Who Is Lord of All? Acts 10:34–43 Sermon | Prescott Anglican Church

He is Lord of all

Text: Acts 10:34-43

In Acts 10:34–43, Peter recognizes that God shows no partiality and that the good news of Jesus is for every nation. Jesus is Lord of all: God’s anointed Son, the one who brings peace, died and rose again, and will judge the living and the dead. Through him, everyone who believes receives forgiveness of sins. The sermon closes with an invitation to stop trying to hold everything together and rest in Christ, whose salvation and peace are God’s work.

Text:

Heavenly Father, we thank you for your Son Jesus Christ, who is our Lord and Savior, and who, through his works and teachings, reveals himself to many, including us. We pray that we would rest in this. We pray for anyone who has not heard this, or who has forgotten it, that they would know it with deep conviction.

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be always acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

Julie’s advice to me before I preached was, essentially, “Don’t ramble.” As you know, I sometimes do when I get excited, or when I’m stressed. I’m telling you this so that you can pray for me as I preach, because I think that’s appropriate.

The storm threw our routine into disarray in so many strange ways. I even ended up falling in the shower, which is mildly embarrassing to admit. The only thing I think I hurt was my pride, which is probably good. That has very little to do with what I’m actually saying, except to say: pray for me as I preach. Thank you.

What I actually want to talk about is hearing good news. I can’t help but think of when we found out we were pregnant with Lucy and Sam. They’re wonderfully different stories, and I think they’re really funny. I think Julie thinks they’re funny, too, so I’m not going to get in trouble.

The first time, as many of you know, we got married later. One of the things we had longed for and looked forward to was getting married and having kids. About six weeks after we got married, Julie came home from church with not one but two pregnancy tests.

I looked at her and said, “Why do you have two pregnancy tests?”

She said, “Well, they were on sale—two for one.” I don’t know if that’s true or not, but it happened.

She took the first test, and it came back positive. It was a faint line. So she took the other one, and that one had a faint line, too. She said, “Well, I don’t know what that means.” I said, “That means you’re pregnant.” She wasn’t sure, so she called a friend, and her friend said, “No, it means you’re pregnant.”

With Sam, she only took one test. I don’t know if she bought two, but she only took one. It came back with the brightest line imaginable. Those of you who know Sam know that’s appropriate, because that kid has been fighting everything since he was about six weeks old—gestation age, that is.

There’s something about good news. It doesn’t really matter what the good news is. It can be finding out you’re pregnant. It can be finding out you got the job you wanted, or that someone likes you, or that someone asked you to marry them and you said yes.

There’s that moment when you think, Is this really happening? Did I really hear that? Is this thing really happening?

That’s where we meet Cornelius this morning. He’s expecting something to happen. He’s expecting good news. He and his friends are probably sitting there with some apprehension, wondering, Is this really happening? They’re about to learn something incredible.

But Peter doesn’t start with that, does he? Peter starts with a confession: “Truly, I understand that God shows no partiality.” In other words, Peter didn’t entirely understand that before.

“God, we’re your chosen people, not those people over there. How could that possibly be?”

But Scripture says again and again that God is not partial. And if we look at the prophecies concerning the Messiah who is going to come, the promise is never only for the Jewish people. Adam and Eve had no sense of this, and yet the serpent-crusher was promised for all of humanity. Noah comes before the call of Abraham, and the bow is pointed back toward heaven for all humanity. A very important part of the Abrahamic covenant is that God would bless the nations through Abraham’s family.

Again and again, we see that God shows no partiality. He calls his people his own, but that’s not even the most important part. All of this leads to the very next verse: “In every nation, anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.”

God’s covenantal love was never meant for just one people. It was meant for all people who would fear him.

Think about what Cornelius might be hearing already: “Oh my gosh, this is the news. This is what he’s trying to tell me. I felt like I was on the outside, but God cares for me, too, because I fear him.”

One commentator asks, “If Cornelius’s honest pagan convictions had been sufficient, why did he seek the synagogue? If the synagogue had been enough, why was Peter here?”

Cornelius might already be wondering, “Okay, this is amazing—but why did you come? I already had a sense that the God of Israel is amazing. But you’re here.”

That’s because Peter is nowhere near finished telling Cornelius something incredible. He’s just beginning.

Christ did not come just for the Jews. It began with God’s covenant people, but now it is going out to Cornelius and beyond. Peter is showing that Christ’s incarnation is for all people.

“The word was sent first to Israel to preach the good news of peace through Jesus Christ.” But he is Lord—Lord of all, not just Israel.

We’re looking now at the incarnation: the incredible truth that the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us. God himself came and dwelt with his people. He came to bring the good news of peace.

Cornelius’s head must be spinning. “There’s something special about Jesus. There’s something incredible going on here.”

In the fall, because of sin, peace was lost. This idea of peace woven throughout the Old Testament is the idea of being united with God and with our neighbor. And when we think about our neighbor, it means seeking their good and welfare. That was lost in the fall. Yet throughout the Old Testament there is a promise that peace—that shalom—would one day be restored.

Peter is saying, “This man Jesus is the one who would restore that peace.” The news is getting better and better.

Then Peter makes a point. We hear the phrase “He is Lord of all” and think, “Yeah, of course. Amen.” The ESV makes this a parenthetical statement. I don’t think that’s the proper way to translate it, but it makes for an interesting rhetorical moment. Peter has said these good things, and then he says, “By the way, whether the nations realize it or not, he is Lord of all.”

Whether the United States realizes it or not, Jesus is Lord of all. Whether North Korea realizes it or not, he is Lord of all. Whether it’s a nation we like or one we don’t like, he is Lord of all.

But Peter is talking to a centurion. Do you remember that? He’s talking to a centurion. And who did Caesar think he was? Lord of all.

So Peter is saying to Cornelius, “You have a choice. Who is Lord of all? Will you bow down to Jesus, the true Lord of all? Or will you continue to honor a man who is only a man, who will die and be buried?” Jesus is Lord of all. He is bigger than even Caesar.

The fact that God, the second person of the Trinity, became incarnate, promised the restoration of shalom, and is Lord of all is, by itself, good news. We could walk away having heard something incredible. But Peter doesn’t stop there. That’s the introduction—the baseline he’s working from for the rest of his sermon.

When I was dating Julie, I had one question. It may not be helpful advice for most of you, but maybe someone will hear it someday and find it helpful. I think it’s the most important question to ask when you’re deciding whether to marry someone: Who is this person?

What is their character? What makes them happy or sad? Do they bend on important things? How do they handle stressful and difficult situations? Who are they?

That’s exactly what Peter is about to tell Cornelius and his friends. They’re wondering, Who is this Jesus? They’ve probably heard stories. It seems that Peter and Cornelius talked as they were walking in. Cornelius has heard about Jesus. He knows Peter was his friend. Who is Jesus? Why is he so important to Peter?

Peter answers:

You yourselves know what happened throughout all Judea, beginning from Galilee after the baptism that John proclaimed: how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power. He went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him. And we are witnesses to all that he did, both in the country of the Jews and in Jerusalem. They put him to death by hanging him on a tree, but God raised him up on the third day and made him appear—not to all the people, but to us who had been chosen by God as witnesses, who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead.

Peter uses three events, or themes, to show Cornelius who Jesus is. For two of them, Peter makes clear that he and the apostles saw these things with their own eyes. They were witnesses.

The first event is the anointing of Christ, and it’s significant for two reasons. First, in that brief sentence we realize that the whole Trinity is active in Christ’s public ministry and in God’s saving work. It’s not just Jesus acting alone. Jesus walks in the Holy Spirit, in obedience to the Father—which we so often fail to do. It is God in Trinity working to save us.

The second reason it’s important is that if Cornelius had heard this story, he may have known what was said to Christ: “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.” If this is true, it’s an incredible claim. It changes everything for Cornelius. He can say, “Yes, he is Lord of all, no matter what the consequence is.”

To show this, Peter talks about the unique works of Christ: how Jesus went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him. “We were witnesses to all that he did, both in the country of the Jews and in Jerusalem.”

We talked about this a little in Bible study. The more I think about it, the more I think this is all Peter says to Cornelius. It’s possible this is Luke’s “CliffsNotes” version: “Go read my other book, Theophilus. You can read all about what Jesus did.” But the more I think about it, the more I think Peter is speaking directly to Cornelius, who is wondering, “I’ve heard all these incredible things about this man Jesus. Who is he?”

We read one account this morning that makes an incredible claim about Jesus: he is the Son of Man who can forgive sins. Why were the Pharisees so upset that he did that? Because only God can forgive sins. If Jesus is forgiving sins, he is claiming to be God himself.

I love C. S. Lewis’s challenge on this. When you read the Gospels, they leave you with a question about who Jesus is and who you think he is. There are only three options: he is a liar, a lunatic, or Lord.

Another way to let this challenge us is to think about Jesus as one prophet among many. Some of you might be thinking, “Oh no, where is he going with this?” Hang on.

Look at Jesus’s moral character. Look at how he acted, how he behaved, what he did. Very few people think Jesus was a bad person. Even the most staunch atheist might say, “Well, yes, Jesus was a great teacher. His teaching is good.”

But then look at the lives of other prophets and the people who started other religions. I had to look this up because I was curious. Even Buddha says, “I’m not a prophet. Please don’t raise me up that high.” Jesus never says that. And when you look at the lives of others, some of you know who I’m talking about. I don’t think they were prophets. Their lives make me look like I have everything together.

That brings us back to the claim about Christ: that he is the Son of God, that he is the Son of Man, and that he has authority to forgive sins. What do his life and works say? Is he a liar? Is he a lunatic? Or is he Lord?

Peter continues. There’s no serious doubt that Christ lived and died. Most historians recognize that Jesus was a historical person and that he died a horrible death. There are secular records of that. But some people stumble over the resurrection.

Peter’s answer is: “We are witnesses to all of that.” And not only that—we ate and drank with him, my friends. You don’t eat or drink with ghosts. You don’t eat or drink with hallucinations. You eat and drink with those who are living, and Christ lives.

If you still doubt it, look at what happened to the apostles. The best case was John: he was boiled, and then he lived a little longer in exile. The rest were killed horrible deaths while insisting that Jesus had been raised from the dead. My friends, no one dies for a lie.

Peter has shown Cornelius and his friends who Jesus is, that he has truly been raised, and that he is Lord.

But Peter’s not done yet.

We were in awe of this in Bible study this week. This whole passage is such a succinct articulation of the Gospel. Peter brings it home with this incredible statement:

He commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one appointed by God to be judge of the living and the dead. To him all the prophets bear witness that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name.

The apostles had the privilege of witnessing, of eating bread and cooked fish, of drinking with Jesus and touching his scars, so that they could testify about who he is. He is the judge—and not only that, he is the judge of the living and the dead. He is the one who came to forgive sins.

Think about this for just a minute. Jesus is the judge of the living and the dead. We hear the word judgment and think, “Oh my gosh, judgment is so bad.”

It’s not bad in this case. It’s good for two reasons. First, because Jesus is personal. Judgment isn’t some impersonal arrangement where you punched your brother in eighth grade and then get punched in the face at a bar. It isn’t some weird balancing out. It is personal judgment.

But it’s even better than that: it’s a reason for hope. My friends, if you want to be depressed, watch the news. The world is wildly unjust. Every once in a while, we get a glimpse of justice and think, “Wow, justice actually happened here—at least it seems like it.” But we know there is injustice. We know there is pain.

And yet God loves the world so much that he will judge it one day through Christ. There will be justice. That sounds scary. What happens then? Peter has the good news: forgiveness of sins through Christ.

But first Peter says, “The prophets proclaimed him.” Cornelius is educated enough by now to start putting the pieces together. He might be thinking: “Wait—could Jesus really be the one? Is he the one who would crush the head of the serpent? Is he the one who would take the arrow of justice? Is he the one who would be a blessing to the nations through Abraham? The Son of David who would sit on the throne? Is he the one who would be born of a virgin, born in Bethlehem, mocked, pierced, and killed with the wicked—the one who would die for the wicked?”

My friends, what Peter wants Cornelius to know, and what Peter and Luke want you to know, is that Jesus is the one the prophets bore witness to from the very beginning of time. He is the one who would crush the head of the serpent. He is the one the arrow of justice is pointed at. He is the blessing from Abraham’s line. He is the one who would sit on David’s throne for all eternity. He is the one born of a virgin, born in Bethlehem, pierced for our transgressions, dying with the wicked and dying for the wicked, and raised from the dead.

Jesus is the one, and it is through Jesus that all sins are forgiven.

As I mentioned at the beginning, the storm made things rough. Our sleep was disrupted, and there’s a pressure I put on myself. I don’t think any of you actually do this. I think it’s me, and maybe this is my confession: I feel like everything has to be perfect.

There’s another part of this. For those of you who don’t know Sam, he’s a very interesting child. I read lots of stories from parents of kids with special needs, and there seems to be this universal pressure we put on ourselves. This morning I read something wonderful from someone I’ve been following. She wrote, “I trust God, but I’m functioning like I’m the one who has to hold everything together.”

That’s not my calling as your priest. It’s not my calling as your pastor, as Julie’s husband, or as Sam’s daddy or Lucy’s dad. It’s not even my calling as a dog owner.

I’m not meant to operate with that level of personal sovereignty. I’m not meant to save you. I’m not meant to save my wife or my kids or my dogs or all the things that keep me up at night.

The Gospel tells us that our salvation, our life, is held by Christ and Christ alone. We are not sovereign over our lives. We are not the ones who restore our lives to ourselves. We are not the ones who restore shalom to ourselves, who restore God’s peace. Only God in Christ can do that.

My friends, wherever you’ve been, whatever brought you here this morning, Christ is inviting you: Come and rest in me. Come and be restored in me, because I am the one who has redeemed you. Come and be forgiven. Come and know that Christ is the one who brings the peace that our first parents lost, the peace that sin destroys.

Christ is calling you. Come and be restored. Come and be forgiven. Come and know that Christ has restored you to God and to your neighbor.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.