The Good Confession

I’d like to have you look in John 18, but I would like you, if you would, first of all to turn with me to 1 Timothy chapter 6. Because we’re actually returning in this study to our series in 1 Timothy, as I’ll make clear to you.

We are, at the moment, camped in this section that begins with 1 Timothy 6:11, where Paul gives a charge to this young man, designating him “man of God” and in doing so reminding him of his identity in Christ and of the responsibility that falls to him. He has already encouraged him to make sure that he is fleeing from all of the nonsense that characterizes the false teachers whom he has addressed on a number of occasions throughout his letter. He wants him to pursue righteousness and godliness. He wants him to be fighting the good fight of faith. He wants him to remember that he has been taken hold of and that he himself is to seize that which in eternal life is his immediate possession and also is his ultimate prize. And he reminds him of the fact that he had made—Timothy, that is—a “good confession in the presence of many witnesses.”

And this is where we left off last time, with the question in our minds: Is Paul referring here to the matter of Timothy’s ordination, or is he referring to the matter of his baptism, or perhaps to neither? And we said that the historical incident was obviously not delineated for us, and therefore, we shouldn’t be dogmatic. But what we can be absolutely clear about is that Timothy had taken a stand—an unequivocal stand—for the Lord Jesus Christ. He was by nature a timid individual. Paul has to exhort him when he starts to write his second letter, “God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, [and] of love and of self-[control].”[1] He was a diffident kind of character. When he went amongst the Corinthians, Paul writes to the Corinthians and says, “When Timothy comes, make sure you put him at his ease.”[2] And this diffident, young, fledgling pastor, as it was, had taken a solid stand and had made a “good confession” of his faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.

And then, in the thirteenth verse, Paul goes on to dramatize, as it were, this charge that he gives to him even further. And he says, “In the sight of God, who gives life to everything”—which is a reference there to God the Father. “In the sight of God, who gives life to everything, and of Christ Jesus, who while testifying before Pontius Pilate made the good confession, I charge you to keep this command.”

Now, I found it difficult to hurry through these verses, because they are so packed with material. And I’m not sure but that we need to back up even a phrase or two beyond where we have gone this evening and deal with the matter of God giving life to everything. But there is a whole series of study within this little charge that is given to Timothy. And I determined that since we are where we are in the church’s calendar, that we would go from the point of reference here concerning Pontius Pilate to one of the Gospel records that provide for us the very thing to which Paul is referring as he calls Timothy to make sure that he keeps this good confession without spot and without blame. And so it is from 1 Timothy 6 that we find ourselves in John chapter 18, rather than simply because of the time of year. And what I want to do in the time that is available to us is to look with you for a moment or two about how the Lord Jesus made this good confession before Pontius Pilate. And the section begins with 18:28.

The Religious Leaders’ Hypocrisy

There is much that we might tackle here. I want you to notice the dramatic contrast between the Jews not wanting to enter the palace to avoid ceremonial uncleanness and what they had already been involved in, which was a travesty of justice. You see, their great concern, always, was for the externals. The reason that Pilate has to come out to them is because they couldn’t go in to him. If they went in to him, they would make themselves ceremonially unclean. And it was already the morning hour, and they wanted to be able to take the Passover. They were legitimately keeping the letter of the law. We certainly can’t fault them for that. But what we can fault them for is the worst form of hypocrisy. Because Matthew records for us, in Matthew 26:65 and following, that

the high priest tore his clothes and said [of Jesus], “He has spoken blasphemy! Why do we need any more witnesses? Look, now you have heard the blasphemy. What do you think?”

“He is worthy of death,” they answered.

Then they [spat] in his face and struck him with their fists. Others slapped him and said, “Prophesy to us, Christ. Who hit you?”

These same characters cannot go in to Pilate because they’ll make themselves ceremonially unclean. Big deal. Do you see what a snare religious formalism is? Do you see what a dead-end street phariseeism is, whereby we meticulously observe all kinds of rules and regulations, many of which we have mustered up by our own creation, and yet our hearts may be full of the worst form of wickedness?

And Pilate legitimately says to them in verse 29, “What charges are you bringing against this man?” They have no answer except vagueness. They try and bluster Pilate: “If he were not a criminal … we would[n’t] have handed him over to you.” Pilate plays tit-for-tat. He says, “[Well,] take him yourselves and judge him by your own law.” ’Cause he knows they’re stuck. He knows that they have the right to designate death, but they do not have the power to institute it without the sanction of the Roman authorities. So he says, “What’s the charge?” They said, “If he wasn’t a criminal, we wouldn’t have brought him.” He said, “Well, fine, go try him by yourselves.” But they can’t do that. “‘We[’ve] no right to execute anyone,’ the Jews objected.” Was it a trial they wanted or an execution? It was an execution. The trial was a mockery from the beginning. It was fraudulent. No one was interested in ascertaining the truth about Jesus of Nazareth. They had already seen enough. They had heard enough. He was going to be put to death, one way or another.

And then you have, in verse 32, this wonderful, amazing truth: that the cruelty of man and the exercise of their own volition, doing what they decided to do by their own willful, sinful, unbelieving hearts, were actually fulfilling the very prophecies that God had given concerning the death of his Son. And so then, after this little encounter, Pilate goes back inside the palace, and he summons Jesus, and he begins his investigation.

Pontius Pilate’s Position

Now, let me just say a word about the position of Pilate. It is important that in the creeds, we say the phrase—and I know we do so very rarely here; that is not an omission of which we ought to be proud—but when we say the words of the Apostles’ Creed or the Nicene Creed, we declare our belief in God the Father, the creator of the ends of the earth, and in his Son, the Lord Jesus Christ. And part of what we say of Jesus is that “he suffered under Pontius Pilate.” Why do we say that? It is an expression of the historicity of the life and ministry of Jesus Christ. It is a reminder to us at every point along the journey of life that the Jesus whom we have come to know as Savior, Lord, and Master is not a Jesus who is a fictitious figure, who is a figment of the imagination, but he was a real man at a real point in time, and the time of his walking upon the earth has been chronicled by secular historians who have identified at the same time the existence of this man, Pontius Pilate.

Secular history records that Pontius Pilate was the Roman governor of Judea and Samaria from AD 26 to AD 36. In 1961, archeologists on an expedition in Caesarea uncovered a stone slab which bore Pontius Pilate’s name. And as governor, his official headquarters were in Caesarea, as we might expect. Caesarea is a beautiful place, if you’ve ever been there, on the Mediterranean Sea, and that was where his main operation was. But he had a detachment of troops; his army was on garrison duty in Jerusalem, and he himself was overseeing the operation in Jerusalem. And so it is on account of his position that the Sanhedrin comes to him with the power to condemn a man to death but requiring the sanction of the Roman authorities. And that explains why it is that they are before Pilate in this way. So that’s his position: he was a Roman governor between AD 26 and 36—an historically verifiable truth.

The Jesus whom we have come to know as Savior, Lord, and Master is not a Jesus who is a fictitious figure, who is a figment of the imagination, but he was a real man at a real point in time.

What of his personality? Well, let me just say a number of things. And I’m not going to turn to all the Scripture references. If you take notes, you might want to note them so that you can check and see whether what I’m saying about his personality is actually underpinned by the verse to which I’m tying it.

But when we put together an Identi-Kit picture of Pontius Pilate, first of all, we notice that he was a proud man. He was proud. He was proud of his position, and he didn’t mind anyone knowing. And that’s there in 19:10: “Don’t you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?” He’s saying to Jesus, “Don’t you know who I am? I’m a very powerful person,” he says to Jesus. John is masterful in the way he introduces irony all the way through his Gospel. I mean, can you imagine “the Alpha and the Omega, … the Beginning and the End,”[3] standing before this pompous clown, and the clown says to him, “Don’t you know who I am? Don’t you realize that I have the power to crucify you or to set you free?” Can you imagine the restraint of Jesus? Amazing restraint! If he could have called legions of angels in the garden of Gethsemane,[4] he could have snuffed this joker out in an instant with his breath! When he stepped forward at the arrest, the soldiers “fell to the ground”![5]

He was proud. He was cruel. Luke chapter 13:1: he mixed the blood of some people in with sacrificial elements. He was shrewd—Matthew 27:18. He was self-seeking—Mark 15:15. He was superstitious—Matthew 27:19. And he was attempting the impossible—Matthew 27:24—insofar as he thought that neutrality was an option. Now, if my purpose was to deal with Pilate as an individual, I would stay on those issues, but since it isn’t, I simply give them to you in passing. He is a fascinating study in character and human personality. Some of you who are doing humanities at university or doing psychology or anything along those lines and are given somebody to research, you would do no better than to turn to the information that we have on Pontius Pilate. There’s a good few pages on him.

Jesus’ Good Confession

Now, the issue is the confession that Jesus is making before this individual. And so notice that in verse 33, he begins to examine the Lord Jesus Christ. He summons Jesus, and he says to him, “You—you!—are the king of the Jews? You’re the king of the Jews?” Now, the reason I put it that way, and I’m surprised that English versions don’t, is because in the Greek, he leads with the personal pronoun. He doesn’t ask, “Are you the king of the Jews?” He says, “You?” And there’s almost a sense in which it’s incredulity, or cynicism, or whatever it is, where he finally gets this character before him, and he says, “You? You’re the king of the Jews?”

You see, Pilate was so consumed with his position. He found himself, at least in his own mind, to be in a position of power, of majesty. And he brings before him this character who, with some thought of kingship, is the absolute opposite. From what he’d heard, he might have expected that Jesus would be a dramatic character—that he would have a belligerent tone about him; that he would have a look on his face, you know, with a turned-up lip and a sort of Che Guevara boldness about him; or that he would be marked by pomp and circumstance, that he would have an entourage, and that there would be every indication of his greatness and his majesty. But he comes in, and he looks at this figure, and he says, “You are the king of the Jews?”

See, powerful people are usually impressed only by being introduced to other powerful people. That’s why not many powerful people come to love and follow Jesus Christ. Rich people like being in the company of other rich people. That’s one of the reasons that not many rich people find themselves in the company of the Lord Jesus Christ. The world looks for someone who will come from a palace, perhaps; from a university, if you like; from a position, maybe, of military might or revolutionary influence. But this character from a workbench in a carpenter’s shop in Nazareth? This nondescript-looking individual? “Excuse me—you? You’re the king of the Jews?”

And Jesus says, “Is that your own idea … or did others talk to you about me?” It’s a lovely response. It’s intriguing. It’d take the wind out of his sails a little bit. It would appear simply that Jesus is seeking to determine exactly what it is he’s dealing with. If Pilate had come up with the question on his own, then he would essentially be asking this question: “Are you a political king conspiring against Caesar?” The answer to that, it would have been “Absolutely not. No, I am not.” But if he had come up with the question as a result of the influence of the Sanhedrin, the things that they had been saying, then his question would have been “Are you the messianic King of Israel?” And the answer to that was clearly yes. So it was important, then, for Jesus to turn the tables on him and say, “Well, you want to know if I’m the King? Exactly what do you have in mind? Is this your own idea, or is it a question someone else put you up to? Are you asking me, Am I here to overthrow the Romans and be some earthly political king? The answer to that’s flat-out no. If you’re asking me, Am I the messianic King of Israel? the answer to that is going to be yes.”

Now, in verse 35, it is with a measure of disdain, it would seem, and almost contempt that Pilate, with his feathers ruffled, says, “Am I a Jew?” You see, they’re now interacting with one another. It doesn’t seem to be going very well, do you think? “Are you the king of the Jews?” We answer a question with a question: “Is that your … idea … or did others talk to you about me?” Now we answer two more questions with another question: “Am I a Jew?” So far, we’re not really gaining on the issue.

“‘Am I a Jew?’ Pilate replied.” He’s so sick and tired of this already. He already tried to get out of it in the first place when he went out to the Jews who were there, and he said, “Why don’t you just take this character away? It seems to be your problem. I, for the life of me, can’t work out just what it is you are on about.” Now he has Christ before him, and he’s trying to make headway, and he’s finding that he’s up against the same issue: “It was your people … your chief priests who handed you over to me.”

And then he asks the questions: “What is it you have done?” “What did you do? Jesus, how did you get yourself in this position?” Because remember, his wife had been telling him things about Jesus.[6] He was alert to what was going on in the city. He had moved around. He’d heard the comments of the soldiers. He had friends in the community; they would have told him different things. And as he’s putting all this information together in his mind, and now as he has this character in front of him, he says to him, “What is it that you’ve done?” The reason that he’s asking is Pilate has been granted the responsibility—a responsibility that he doesn’t want—to decide whether what it is that has been done breaks the Roman law and therefore demands that he pass judgment.

And then, in verse 36, Jesus volunteers this information. First of all, he makes it clear that any attempt to understand who he is and what his kingdom is all about in political or territorial terms is bound to end in failure. And that is the significance of the sentence “My kingdom is not of this world.” And my purpose is not to deal with that phrase this evening. I mentioned it on Friday evening in passing as well. It demands serious attention in our day. Because a misunderstanding of that essential sentence has led the church for the last twenty years in this country up an amazing number of side streets. If we would just understand what Jesus is saying here, we would get about the business of the kingdom, which is not political, which is not national, which is not territorial. When you think of the kingdom, think first of the rule of Christ. “Seek … first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness”[7]—his rule and his reign as it comes on a life and as it comes to emerge from that life. It’s better to think in terms of his rule rather than a realm.

Any attempt to understand who Jesus is and what his kingdom is all about in political or territorial terms is bound to end in failure.

He says, “My kingdom doesn’t take its origin from the world. And its primary concern is the spiritual transformation that is brought about in the hearts of individuals. If it were other than this,” says Jesus, “then my servants would have been marshaled as troops, and we would have fought to prevent arrest from the Jews. But now,” he says, “my kingdom is from another place.” His kingship is operative, he’s going to go on and say, in the hearts and lives of all who listen to the truth. We’ll come to that in verse 37. The emphasis by Jesus—the apostolic emphasis throughout all of the New Testament—is spiritual and not political dominion.

So then Pilate says in verse 37, “Well, I take it that what you’re saying is that you are a king, then?” And Jesus answers, “You are right in saying I am a king.” “You’ve got it right, Pilate. You said it. Dead-on. I am a king. My kingship is not the result of revolt. I’m not a king by succession. I was born to be a king. In fact, for this reason I was born.” He was born. He was human. Human. He was a real person. He was not a specter or a ghost. He was not an ethereal figure. He had flesh and blood and hands and feet and toes and knew what it was to be thirsty, tired, lonely, disappointed.

And in this little phrase—and don’t miss little phrases like this—we have the reinforcement of essential truth concerning who Jesus is: “For this reason,” he said, “I was born.” And then, interestingly, he says, “And for this [reason] I came into the world.” Isn’t that an interesting juxtaposition of phraseology? Why would you say, “For this reason I was born,” and then “For this [reason] I came into the world.” Is that tautology? Is he just saying one thing twice? No! In saying, “I was born,” he is declaring his humanity. In saying, “I have come into the world,” he is declaring his divinity. For his birth in Bethlehem was not the beginning of Christ, for he came from the glory of the Father. He was with the Spirit and the Father, coequal and coeternal. His birth was a real birth. He came down a normal canal. His conception was miraculous; his birth was unspectacular. But when the Mary mother held that baby in her arms, she held a child who was born to be King, heralded by the songs of the angels, visited by the shepherds, and adored by the wise men. And now, at the age of thirty-three, approximately, he stands enduring this mockery of an investigation by this pompous Roman governor, and he says, “Listen, I came into the world to testify to the truth, and everyone on the side of truth listens to me.”

Now, Jesus is not referring here to truth as an abstraction in the philosophies of men. He is referring to truth as an absolute in the person of himself. And everyone who owes their spiritual origin to he who is the truth is eager to listen to his voice. That’s why he makes that wonderful statement earlier in John’s Gospel:

I tell you the truth, the man who does not enter the sheep pen by the gate, but climbs [up] by some other way, is a thief and a robber. The man who enters by the gate is the shepherd of [the] sheep. The watchman opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice.[8]

Do you want to know how you’re a member of the flock tonight? Because you listen to his voice. You understand that in terms of a nuclear family, don’t you? Of all the voices that you might hear shouting in a street or on a college campus, there are only one or two voices that will arrest you. And there is only one voice that you might identify as your father’s voice. And the way that you hear that voice will be different from the way anyone else hears the voice. And in listening for it and in responding to it, we declare ourselves to belong.

“Well then,” says Pilate in verse 38, “what is truth?” I must confess, I’ve heard a number of sermons on this phrase where people have told me they’re going preach on just three words: “What is truth?” And then they went in like the man who jumped on his horse and galloped off in all directions. And so I want to beware of it. The question that occurs to me, and perhaps to you, is simply this: When Pilate asks the question, is he a searcher, or is he a cynic? I wish we could hear the tone of his voice. I wish we had it in recording. Because the tone of his voice is going to answer that question. Is he saying, “Oh, I want to know that! What is truth?” Or is he saying, “What is truth? Truth? I’m a politician. Don’t talk to me about truth. I’m surrounded by these soldiers. I do their pay charts. They do the time cards for me. Don’t talk to me about truth. Truth?”

If he had been concerned, I’m not so sure that he wouldn’t have stayed. But he says, “‘What[’s] truth?’ Pilate asked. [And] with this he went out again to the Jews.” In other words, you have the impression of him turning around. Jesus says, “And for this reason I came into the world, and I am the King, and I have established the truth, and those who follow me listen to the truth.” And Pilate says, “Oh yeah, truth! What’s truth? Hang on, I’ll be back in a minute.” Do you think the people are all sitting around tonight asking the question, “What is truth?” Get serious! They’re not. They’re clicking the TV thing. They’re not asking, “Is Christianity true?” They’re not sitting home wondering about that. They might be sitting home wondering if it’s relevant, but they’re not asking whether it’s true. They don’t even care. “There is none that seeks after God; no, not one.”[9] I think Pilate is dismissive.

And that brings us, finally, to the little scene that then takes place when he walks out the door and goes back to the Jews. The investigation is over. You could say that it’s gone fairly well. He was seeking to determine whether Jesus regarded himself as a king, and Jesus said yes, he was a king, but he’s made these statements regarding his kingdom, and Pilate is savvy enough to recognize that it doesn’t seem to be the kind of thing that the Jews have legitimate concern with. And so, in verse 38, “with this he went out again to the Jews and [he] said, ‘I find no basis for a charge against him.’”

Herod’s Curiosity

Now, it is possible—in fact, it is probable—that it is at this point that they ship him off to Herod. Because when you combine the Gospel records, there is the encounter that takes place with Herod, and I’m inclined to think that Herod’s encounter takes place at the end of verse 38. And you’ll find it in Luke chapter 23 at your leisure. Because in Luke 23, it says, “Then Pilate announced to the chief priests and the crowd, ‘I find no basis for a charge against this man.’ But they insisted, ‘He stirs up the people all over Judea by his teaching. He started in Galilee and [he’s] come all the way here.’” Now, that’s exactly what he’s done. You see, he goes out, and he says, “I don’t have a basis for a charge against him.” They reply; John doesn’t cover it; Luke records it, just like different newspapers have different detail. And “on hearing this, Pilate asked if the man was a Galilean. When he learned that Jesus was under Herod’s jurisdiction, he sent him to Herod, who was also in Jerusalem at that time.”[10]

So he gets shipped off to Herod, and I wish I had time to deal with the encounter with Herod. It’s fantastic. Unlike Pilate, Herod is thrilled to see Jesus, “because for a long time he[’d] been wanting to see him,” and “from what he[’d] heard about him, he hoped to see him perform some miracle.”[11] And I’d like to preach on the ninth verse: “He plied him with many questions, but Jesus gave him no answer.” “He plied him with many questions, but Jesus gave him no answer.” Why not? ’Cause Jesus knew his heart. And he knew that Herod’s conscience had been put to sleep.

No, I’ve started now, so you’re going to say, “How in the world does he come up with that?” So I need—sorry—to delay just a moment to give you facts. If you… Just listen to me for a moment. But in Mark chapter 6, in the beheading of John the Baptist, it says of Herod that “when [he] heard John, he was greatly puzzled,” and “yet he liked to listen to him.”[12] So there was a time when Herod liked the preacher, liked the preaching, and liked to listen. But now here he is, and he has Jesus in front of him. And he says, “Oh, this is great! I’ve got Jesus in here now. Fantastic! Maybe he’ll do a miracle. I heard he did a lot of miracles. Maybe he’ll do one for me.” And so he starts to ask him all these questions, and Jesus gave him no answer. You see, he knew Herod’s heart. And as soon as Herod realized that he was not going to get what he was looking for, “then Herod and his soldiers ridiculed and mocked him [and dressed] him in an elegant robe, [and] they sent him back to Pilate. [And] that day, Herod and Pilate became friends—before this they had been enemies.”[13]

There’s somebody here tonight, and you’ve determined that when you’re good and well ready, you have a number of questions that you’re going to ask Jesus—vital, crucial, eternally significant questions. And in your mind, you’re saying, “And he can frankly wait until I’m ready.” I want to tell you, on the authority of God’s Word, that on the day you ask your questions, you may get no answers. Because the Bible clearly teaches that it is possible for us to become so inured to the teaching of the Word of God, so impervious to its instruction, so soaked by its information, that our hearts become like a tin roof on a building, and all that happens is that the rain makes a sound upon it and dances off it but never penetrates it.

The confidence of heaven is in the Scriptures.

And that is why I say to you, loved ones, with such regularity, “Today, if you hear [God’s] voice, do not harden your hearts.”[14] Because if you do, there may come a day when your heart is so hardened that you may long to hear his voice and never hear it; that you think that he will stand and wait for you until you are ready to have your questions answered—he who has come from the realms of glory, and called you by name, and spoken into your lives, and given you godly parents and friends, and introduced you to the Scriptures, and called you to himself. Do you really think you will tell him to wait outside until you’re ready? And what will it take for you to be ready? Your own personal miracle? Who do you think you are? In the posture of Herod: “Oh good! Let’s have Jesus come in. Maybe he’ll do a show for me.” And “he plied him with many questions,” and he “gave him no answer.”

Why? Because the confidence of heaven is in the Scriptures. Luke 16:31, in another context altogether, in the story—dramatic story—of the rich man and Lazarus: “I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my father’s house, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.”[15] He speaks from hell. He says, “Go back and give them a special warning.” And “Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’”[16] In other words, “They have their Bibles. Let them pay attention to the Bible.” “‘[Oh] no, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’” If somebody goes and does something really dramatic, you see, then they will believe! And “he said to [them], ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”[17] And that is the story of Judaism to this point! If they will not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if the Messiah was to rise from the dead.

Well, we’ve got about seven sermons in one here. Let me stop.

Timothy’s Stand and Pilate’s Hands

Go back to John 18:39: “But it[’s] your custom,” says Pilate—having had him shipped back from Herod now, you see. They’re playing ping-pong with the creator of the universe, sending him up the street and then back up the street, and everywhere he goes there’s a slap on the face, there’s spittle on his beard, there’s a gut-wrenching kick in the ribs. And back he comes, and it’s Pilate’s problem all over again. And he sees one last opportunity to weasel out of it.

Customary at Passover for the Roman jurisdiction to release a prisoner—a kind of “Hey, attaboy” for having the Passover in town. So he says, “Do you want me to release ‘the king of the Jews’?”—passionately hoping the answer would be yes. And “they shouted back, ‘[Oh] no, not him! Give us Barabbas!’” Trapped in his superstitious fears, coupled with tinges of a desire for justice and the fear of what will happen to him if he doesn’t go with the crowd, Pilate, still unwilling to pronounce the death sentence, delivers Jesus up to be flogged.

In essence, Pilate wanted to evade the responsibility of making a decision concerning Christ. And in that respect, he’s like some of us. But he was to discover, as we discover, that neutrality is not an option. Pilate’s fundamental dilemma is summarized in Matthew’s record, where Pilate says out loud, but to his own heart, “What shall I do, then, with Jesus who is called Christ?”[18] And although we are continually told that the issues in Peking, Beijing, and London, and Washington, and the state of the Dow, and the matters of the balance of world power, and all of these things that are given to us on a daily basis are the issues of time and are the great concerns of the age—and global warming, and the forests in Oregon, and the president’s concern about this and that—they pale into insignificance before this one fundamental question: “What shall I, then, do with Jesus who is called Christ?”

And remember, it was in the context of a call to a good confession: “Timothy, I want you to make a good confession. And remember, the Lord Jesus, whom you serve, made a good confession before Pontius Pilate.” I think probably what we have there—and we’ll come back to it in 1 Timothy 6—is a little section taken out of a whole baptismal instruction. And therefore, the exhortation is to take a bold stand in relationship to Jesus Christ. I ask you tonight: Are you prepared for that kind of bold commitment to Christ? To stand up and be counted, no matter if the whole world goes the other way? Or do you want to try and do the Pilate trip?

The question that is even more fundamental is not “What would Pilate do with Christ?” but “What will Christ’s words be to Pilate on the day of judgment?” Can you imagine standing before Christ in judgment as Pontius Pilate? Having gazed into his eyes? Having addressed him in this way? Having had the opportunity to bear your heart before him and embrace him as your Savior, and having taken a bowl of water and washed your hands and gone into the deep recesses of the palace so that you couldn’t hear his dreadful screams as, per your direction, they took and beat him to the point where his back was open to the bone and his head was crushed with a crown of thorns?

These are days in which it is imperative that the Lord will raise up some who are not chocolate soldiers to melt in the heat. I ask for no public response on your part, but in your hearts, as you bow with me tonight, will you not commit your life afresh to Christ and tell him that you love him, and that you would be prepared to make a good confession before man, and that you will serve him?

It is a thing most wonderful,
Almost too wonderful to be,
That God’s own Son should come from heaven
And die to save a child like me.[19]

Father, words are inadequate to grapple with the immensity of what is before us here in Holy Scripture.

Oh, the love that drew salvation’s plan!
And the grace that brought it down to man!
And the mighty gulf that you, O God, spanned
At Calvary.[20]

Grant, then, that we might hear the voice of Christ as to those he called in his earthy pilgrimage: “Follow me … and I will make you fishers of men.”[21] “If any man would be my disciple, let him take up his cross every day, deny himself, and follow me.”[22] “Come unto me, all ye [who are weary] and … heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”[23]

Was there ever kinde[r] shepherd,
Half so gentle, half so sweet,
As the Savior who would have us
Come and gather round his feet?[24]

Enable us, Lord, in these days, as individuals and families and as a church family, to be prepared to make a good confession in the presence of many witnesses. For Jesus’ sake we ask it. Amen.

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[1] 2 Timothy 1:7 (NIV 1984).

[2] 1 Corinthians 16:10 (paraphrased).

[3] Revelation 22:13 (NIV 1984).

[4] See Matthew 26:53.

[5] John 18:6 (NIV 1984).

[6] See Matthew 27:19.

[7] Matthew 6:33 (KJV).

[8] John 10:1–3 (NIV 1984).

[9] Romans 3:10–11 (paraphrased).

[10] Luke 23:4–7 (NIV 1984).

[11] Luke 23:8 (NIV 1984).

[12] Mark 6:20 (NIV 1984).

[13] Luke 23:11–12 (NIV 1984).

[14] Psalm 95:7–8; Hebrews 3:7–8, 15; 4:7 (NIV 1984).

[15] Luke 16:27–28 (NIV 1984).

[16] Luke 16:29 (NIV 1984).

[17] Luke 16:30–31 (NIV 1984).

[18] Matthew 27:22 (NIV 1984).

[19] William Walsham How, “It Is a Thing Most Wonderful” (1883).

[20] William R. Newell, “At Calvary” (1895). Lyrics lightly altered.

[21] Matthew 4:19 (NIV 1984).

[22] Luke 9:23 (paraphrased).

[23] Matthew 11:28 (KJV).

[24] Frederick W. Faber, “Come to Jesus” (1854).