For the Christian, the iron gate of death was opened by the blood of Christ and the empty tomb.
Just like that, James is gone; one of the “sons of thunder” dispatched with alacrity. In Acts 12, we read how quickly and violently, Herod stretches out his traitorous hand and sends James to Jesus.
Yet this was just a teaser. Herod wanted to see how the Jews would react to such malevolence against an early church leader. They responded, but perhaps not as he hoped:
They…were…pleased? (vs. 3)
Now on to the bigger target, Peter. This “super" apostle had been preaching with great fruit for some time now, and Herod clearly wanted that to come to an end. He had heard of the utterly impossible freedom won for the apostles in chapter 5 when “an angel of the Lord opened the prison doors and brought them out…” (vs. 19). Of course, Herod couldn’t possibly believe that this was the Lord’s work. It had to be the incompetence of those who were watching them.
That was not going to happen this time, so he snatches up Peter during the Passover festival. Herod wasn’t going to allow anyone to mess with the celebration to which he gave faux attention because he was instilled with an iron heart.
And so the contest begins – Peter versus Herod; The Church vs. Herod; GOD vs. Herod.
Herod will not allow Peter to slip from his grasp. He sends a message of strength. He’ll wait until after the festival; let the pilgrims slip out of town before another execution. Until then, he sends four squares of soldiers to watch over him.
That sounds excessive, doesn’t it? Peter is just a preacher with a big voice. Herod shouldn’t be worried. It is possible the last time Peter had carried a sword was when Malchus lost his ear for a couple of minutes. Now? He just carries the sword of the Spirit. This hardly calls for iron-fisted centurions to be given grunt duty, being chained to a criminal.
Yet the reality is that Peter is dangerous.
The truth is dangerous.
If you don’t conform to the lies of culture, sin, or the world, then you, too, are dangerous.
Meanwhile, the Church prays earnestly (vs. 5).
The English text uses the word “earnestly." We use the description but rarely understand what it means. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve ever used the word in a casual conversation.
The Greek word conveys an urgency that we don’t typically use. While we often pray with a type of routine that can allow for our thoughts and minds to wander, there’s a difference when we pray specifically for ones we love. This is full-out strenuous, battle-hardened, lying on our faces, prayer. This is the exact same fervency word used for Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane as he sweated blood. This is the Church battling Herod. “So Peter was kept in prison, but earnest prayer for him was made to God by the Church.” (vs. 5)
Earnest describes the type of prayers for Peter, but what exactly was the church praying for? Was it that Peter might be comfortable in his last moments? Was it that the Spirit would keep him strong as he walked to the sword? Could anyone dare hope for the outcome that was to come? Was there a tiny voice in the back of the room brave enough to whisper, “God, can you just bust him out?”
That’s an earnest, fervent, aggressive prayer. God, can you break open an iron gate or two, because right now even a screen door seems impossible? God, you see what’s going on with the Church. It seems like we need him—we just lost James. We can’t lose two of them right away.
This story reaches into the heart of Egypt, lands in Jerusalem, and finds us wherever we are today. This is a story of God hearing. It’s a promise of Exodus. Make no mistake, King Herod is the Pharaonic, iron-hearted representative in the New Testament. The people need to see that God is still active; that God is still bringing people from the chains of death into the freedom of life. God’s plagues/proving acts and the impassible Red Sea were in the faces of those believers of old. Now, once again, this new Pharaoh has arisen to reveal God’s power over the forces of darkness to the people.
This is where it gets interesting, I think. The visual is absolutely astounding. Peter had to be wondering when Herod would do something. He knows, knows, that James is dead. It’s his time. And yet what does he do?
He sleeps.
Peter exhibits no signs of anxiety. He’s going to be executed soon, and he sleeps like Jesus during a storm on a lake.
And then an angel appears once again, a pillar of light in the wilderness of the cell. The scene is amusing. The angel “struck Peter on the side and woke him…” (v. 7). It’s not like he gently shook his shoulder. He knocked him good. Peter rises as the angel tells him to follow. His chains slide off from his hands, and that which tied him to death has now been removed. He puts on his clothes. I can only imagine him staring at the sleeping forms of the guards who were so recently tethered to him.
Then they pass the first and second guard. Unbelievable. Things like this only happen in, well, the Bible.
Then there’s the last, iron gate that they can’t possibly do anything about. Here is Peter’s Red Sea; the impediment to Peter’s personal, angelic-led Exodus. He will never forget this moment, I bet. He will never stop telling this story. He will recall it when God allows him to go the way of James, and Stephen, and all the martyrs of the faith. God opens this iron gate as the way of freedom. The gate opens of it’s own accord, which in the Greek literally means, “automate” (vs. 10). The gate moves by itself. Peter remains passive, and the angel remains passive, all while God is at work to open the door of liberty.
Peter finds himself “outside of Egypt” and aware of what God has done. I don’t know if we can possibly fathom this moment for him. He admits, “Now I am sure that the Lord has sent his angel and rescued me from the hand of Herod and from all that the Jewish people were expecting” (vs. 11).
Everybody, including Peter himself, expects that his arrest will involve death. Yet God has delivered that which seems undeliverable. He’s conquered the plans of Herod and his guards. He has ignited the prayers of the faithful in a way that surpasses their expectations.
Peter was in a cell that felt like a tomb, and an angel showed up to deliver.
Jesus was in a tomb that felt like a cell, and an angel (or two) showed up to deliver.
Here’s where we take heart, I hope. God has called us to pray. The end is not what the world is expecting. For the Christian, the iron gate of death was opened by the blood of Christ and the empty tomb. Our eyes are now opened to the reality of the freedom won for us in the magnificence of his love. Just like the Israelites fleeing Egypt and Peter fleeing prison, we stand here, “rescued.”
This should remind you that Truth is dangerous—you, in Christ, are dangerous. To be in opposition to the cultural pharaohs of today has ramifications. You may be “cancelled.” You may become a pariah to those who consider themselves arbiters of ways to live that are outside of the strictures of God’s hope for us. You may find yourself figuratively chained because the world doesn’t want you to express a love that goes beyond all imagination.
And so we pray, earnestly. Pray for those around you who find themselves in desperate need of the freedom that Christ came to offer. Pray for those who are seemingly hopelessly lost. Pray for those who make your eyebrows furrow in frustration. Pray for those of whom you have no idea what’s going on in their lives. Pray earnestly and trust that Christ has come to set you free.
