Despite the fact that Jesus barely speaks to Pilate, the governor ends the interview convinced that he is innocent. Jesus silence is greater than the many and varied words of the chief priests. In this there is a valuable lesson to be learned about the importance of our demeanor as we do the work of the kingdom. Words are important, but how we carry ourselves when we speak, as well as when we are silent, has much bearing on the efficacy of our testimony.

As Christians we are always in possession of truth. But how we present that truth often determines its success or failure. Do not be mistaken, we are not discussing evangelistic, or apologeical “tactics.” Jesus was not simply a “smooth operator.” Jesus demeanor before Pilate was the result of something more. It was not the result of something he had learned, but rather the result of his knowledge affecting the way he lived.

The priests heaped upon him scores of false accusations. Were we in the same the position, our natural tendency would be to defend ourselves. Few of us face such situations in a legal setting, but we are confronted with distortions of the truth in various settings in our lives, including our work in the Church. In such circumstances we are required to give an account of what we believe to be true, but our account should be shaped by our absolute confidence in the ability of God to workout his plan regardless of the success or failure of our defense.

The biggest stumbling block to being able to imitate Jesus’ comes from our desire to be vindicated as the holder of truth. Were he merely a man, Jesus vindication of his person would have rested solely on his ability to fend off the attacks of the priests. But because he knew the Father’s will, he knew his death would not be the final word on the proceedings. His knowledge guided is actions, which in turn witnessed to who he was.

As his followers, we have access to the comfort of his knowledge. We may not know the Father’s plan as did he, but we have his promises that it will be worked out completely and for our good. And these promises have been validated by his actions. We know what he has said and done, therefore our witness to these things should not only be in word but also in deed. All that we say, along with all that we do not say, should be validated by how we say it. And how we say it should be shaped by our absolute confidence in the outworking of his plan.

Jesus is our King, and he proves it by his actions. As we read this passage we have a tendency focus on the idea of the Jews killing their king; and while the heinous crime of regicide is a part of the story, there is something greater going on.

Even as he is answering Pilate’s question he is fulfilling the duty of a monarch and protecting his people. A king was required to be a soldier. This meant that he had to at times put his life in danger in order to defend his people. No monarch did this like Jesus. There is an attraction, beauty, to the idea of a king riding off to battle. This beauty exists because of its semblance to the divine, to Jesus great confrontation with our antagonists during his passion.As he stood before Pilate Jesus was fighting our battle. The blood shed in our defense would be his. But while he was attacked in the conventional sense, with soldiers, and government, and spears, and taunts, he fought much differently. He fought by dying. Because he was sinless, the weapons of this world had no effect on him. They would have destroyed us, and ushered us into unimaginable suffering; but he stood before us, protecting us, as our king, and delivered us in his victory.

As great and wonderful as this news is, it does not mean our lives are without suffering. We have trials we are facing even now. But, what he did means we will not suffer our natural fate, and what our enemies sought to inflict on us. The victory has been won. The enemy has been irreversibly routed, and is now being driven to his eternal destination — hell. Our king has given us the great honor of participating in his victory. But just as he won the war, the remaining mopping-up actions must be carried out passively. These actions, the trials of the circumstances of our lives, can be hard, but it is when they seem hardest that we must look back to the victory at Calvary, and comfort ourselves that the conclusion is not in doubt. Indeed, even as we sometimes perceive that we now do the fighting, we can never forget that our King once doing his duty, always does his duty, even now doing it in our lives.

The Old Testament tells us that any sacrifice must be bound. This is why Jesus is bound in today’s passage. Like the lambs being brought to the slaughter at Passover, he is being lead to his death as the great sacrifice for our sin.

There are two ways in which we must view his bonds. The first involves our expectation of and willingness to endure what he did. Few Christians in the West face the prospect of being bound for their faith. Just the same, seeing the sacrifice he made for us, we must be willing to sacrifice our freedom and autonomy for his sake. This may mean devoting time and energy to things we would not want to on our own. Knowing that his life served to purchase ours, we must be willing to give our own to witness to what he has done. The story of his sacrifice coupled with the example of our own is a powerful testimony.

On the other hand, even when we face the prospect of actual persecution for our faith, we do so differently than he did because our sacrifices will never include the punishment of his. We are told that when Paul and Silas were imprisoned they sang hymns of praise to God. This has been the reaction of many saints through the centuries. They have been able to do this because of what Jesus did. Because he endured separation from God and hell, we know we never will. What he faced in laying down his life was completely different than what we face in laying down ours. Indeed, our hopes and expectations are confirmed in death.

This is why Christians should be fearless when facing death. We do not fear being bound as the world does, for we know that our freedom is secure. Consequently we should be willing to be lead wherever God should see fit to take us. For we know that the world can do nothing to deprive us of our hope, and that our willingness be bound may help lead others to freedom.

As soon as the rooster crowed Peter realized what he had done. Jesus words came to him almost immediately, and he understood the full depths to which he had descended. Ironically, going back to his proclamation of his faith in the garden, this is the first thing Peter has done right all night. When he realized he had sinned he wept.

Some speculate that since Peter may have been the source of Mark’s Gospel, this account of the events concentrates more on his sin than on his sorrow; the great apostle not wanting his sorrow to be magnified because no amount of sorrow would be worthy of so great a sin. Just the same we can see that sin requires immediate action.

While our sorrow cannot be penance for sin, we cannot allow ourselves to be unaffected by what we have done. Too often we want the bad feelings that result from sin to pass quickly so that we can go on living how we want to live. And, the tears we do shed are generally as much the result self-pity as they are despair over having offended our benevolent Father and sending his Son to the Cross. Like Peter, when we repent we must repent for the sin we have committed against Jesus. We must picture him being beaten a spat upon, and never forget that if it was not for us he would never have been on trial.

Our sin is not about us, it is about Jesus. We should not immerse ourselves in self-effacing grief as a result of it, but we should take time when we repent to ponder anew the wonders of what he did in relation to who we are. We should be humbled when we remember the depths to which we can descend. This humility should never be quickly glanced over. Rather, time should be taken to remind ourselves of our condition. When we do this we will see that there is nothing in us in which we can take joy. But in doing so God is setting us up for a more profound joy; a joy born of the knowledge of what he has done in sacrificing his Son for men like us.

There is no sin too great that it cannot be forgiven and the sinner restored. The sin we see in today’s passage is amongst the most infamous ever committed, ranking with David and Bathsheba, and Judas’ betrayal. It is without a doubt the greatest sin committed by a believer in the New Testament, and therein lies its great worth: as great as the sin was, he who committed was a saint.

Purposeful sin is amongst the most devastating things we can experience. Motives aside, the moment we realize what we have done is amongst the worst moments in life. But as bad as Peter’s sin was, and as bad as ours can seem, we can see from his interaction with Peter, that God can use that sin to demonstrate the exceedingly great power of his grace.

If Peter can be a great saint, then anybody can be a great saint. Jesus told Peter on multiple occasions that Satan wanted him badly. But even at this moment in which it seemed Satan was very close to having what he desired, God was at work. Peter would sin, but God would do something with that sin.

This does not mean that we “keep sinning that grace may abound.” We know from the Bible that this is ridiculous. Rather, we can use this verse as a source of comfort when we or someone we know falls into sin.

We must constantly pray that God would keep us from temptation. But when we or an acquaintance stumble, we must be mindful of the power God has to correct and change. In spite of saying, “I do not know this man,” Jesus would tell Peter in just a few days that he would be the “rock” upon which he would build his Church. This power had nothing to do with Peter, but was entirely premised on the greatness of the work Jesus was doing while Peter was denying him. We must preach such a powerful testimony to the world, but we must also preach it to ourselves. Despondency over sin is one of the devil’s greatest weapons. It can only be deflected with knowledge of the power of God to restore, the same power he manifested in Peter.