Giving the Devil His Due – 1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11 (Year A, Seventh Sunday of Easter)

 

Here we are—the seventh Sunday of Easter. Seven weeks of resurrection joy, and now, as the festival draws to a close, we get a warning. Leave it to Peter to tell us.

 

We’ve spent these seven weeks basking in the good news. In Christ’s resurrection, you and I can be forgiven, restored, and reunited with the God we’d drifted from. Through faith, a new spirit can be born within us. Where God once seemed distant and unreachable—like customer service on hold—we can now grow into an honest, living relationship with him. Specifically, we can talk to God. Listen to God. Sense God’s presence. Bring God our needs. Know God as a personal Friend.

 

And not only that—in the resurrection, we have new power for the challenges of daily life. Furthermore, we hold the greatest promise of all: that even death cannot separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. If that doesn’t make you want to shout Alleluia, I don’t know what will.

 

In addition, it’s not just personal. The resurrection has cosmic consequences. In the death and rising of Christ, the seeds of justice and mercy have been permanently sown into the soil of our world. Consequently, the Kingdom of God is growing among us. It may feel slow—like watching your neighbor’s grass grow while yours turns brown—but it’s growing. Like yeast silently working through dough. Like a mustard seed becoming a tree so big the birds move in and start redecorating.

 

When Jesus conquered the grave, it meant not only that death’s power was broken, but that poverty is on its last legs—along with injustice, racism, hunger, and all the other worldly expressions of spiritual death. The walls that divide us—that make enemies of neighbors and strangers of brothers—are crumbling, just like Jericho’s walls, just like the Berlin Wall.

 

Ultimately, one day soon, if we’re patient and steadfast, we’ll see it. A world where God dwells among his children. Where families live in peace. Where no one goes hungry. Where—as the prophet said—the lion lies down with the lamb. (Though personally, I imagine the lamb still sleeps with one eye open.)

 

 

But now—here on this last day of Easter—comes the warning.

 

The little letter of First Peter pulls us aside and says: Stay alert. Be self-controlled. Because your enemy, the devil, is prowling around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour.

 

Now, I know what some of you are thinking. We’re educated people. Thoughtful people. And talk of the devil can feel, well… a little awkward. Like we’ve wandered into a different kind of church.

 

Part of that discomfort comes from scientific rationalism—the worldview that says everything can be explained, measured, and eventually controlled. On the other hand, part of it, honestly, comes from Flip Wilson. Some of you remember his character, the flamboyant Geraldine Jones, whose go-to excuse for every bit of bad behavior was—“The devil made me do it!” The country laughed, took up the phrase, and as a result, the devil became a punchline.

 

And so here on the last Sunday of Easter the Apostle Peter is looking us in the eye and saying: Watch out for the devil.

 

And we sophisticated moderns may smile. However, the people who survived the Holocaust are not smiling. Neither are those who have lived under the boot of racism. Or children who have been abused. Or parents who have watched their kids disappear into the dark world of addiction. Or people who know better than to walk certain streets after dark, because there are those who roam there with no regard for the sanctity of human life.

 

These people—people who have looked directly into the face of evil—are not laughing at all. In fact, they’ve had to grow up spiritually. They’ve had to shed the comfortable philosophies that promise we can understand and manage the forces of darkness all by ourselves. Consequently, they have absolutely no trouble understanding what Peter meant when he wrote: Watch out for the devil.

 

The late Dr. Bill Jones—the great African-American preacher—taught that Christians need to come to grips with the reality of evil. For instance, he said one of the greatest illustrations of evil’s persistence is Judas Iscariot—the one the Bible calls the son of perdition.

 

Now here’s a question worth sitting with: Do you think Jesus didn’t know about the dark side of Judas when he called him? Do you think Jesus was somehow surprised?

 

The Bible makes it clear—Jesus knew exactly what was in the heart of Judas Iscariot. Therefore, why did he call him anyway?

 

Dr. Jones suggested three reasons, and I think they’re worth our time.

 

First: Jesus called Judas to show us that evil is everywhere.

 

There is no place where evil is not. It’s not just in the obvious places—the dark alleys, the corrupt boardrooms, the obvious villains. Rather, evil shows up in the most unexpected company. It showed up right in the middle of the Twelve.

 

Now, if I were the devil—and I want to be clear that I am not—I wouldn’t waste much time on places I already control. Instead, I’d put all my energy into worming my way into the good places. The places that belong to God. That’s where the real mischief is.

 

And Dr. Jones said—with that wonderful mix of laughter and dead seriousness—one of the devil’s favorite destinations is church. He’ll come in on Sunday morning, find himself a good seat—not too close to the front, not too far back—smile warmly at the people around him, shake hands with great enthusiasm. And he’ll sit there, quiet as a deacon, right up until the moment something of God’s work is about to move forward. Then he’ll amble up to the microphone and, in the most reasonable voice you’ve ever heard, carefully explain all the practical reasons we shouldn’t do what Jesus is calling us to do.

 

He loves committee work. Especially anything involving money. You remember that Judas was church treasurer, right? From that position, the devil can quietly strangle almost any idea that smacks of generosity or risk or genuine faith.

 

And if not the finance committee, he’ll join the choir. Oh, the devil loves the choir. From the choir loft, Dr. Jones said, that old devil can turn a perfectly sane congregation into a roiling storm of hurt feelings and bruised egos faster than you can say “but we’ve always done it this way.”

 

And—not to leave anyone out—the devil loves seminary. Gets himself ordained. Climbs into a pulpit. And before long, turns a group of sincere, warm-hearted Christians into the most judgmental, soul-slaying bunch of finger-pointers you’ve ever encountered.

 

Clearly, there is no place evil is not. It’s in the church. In the home. In the high school hallway. Don’t forget—on the night of the Last Supper, where was the devil? Right there at the table. Eating the bread. Drinking the wine. Passing the plate. So we need to learn to identify evil, discern its presence—even in things we consider respectable and good—and have the courage to stand up against it.

 

Second: Jesus called Judas to show us that not everyone will follow good leadership.

 

For three years, Judas walked with Jesus. Heard every parable. Witnessed every miracle. Nevertheless, none of it took root. That should be both sobering and strangely comforting to us.

 

We may receive genuine, Spirit-led direction for our church or our personal lives, and somebody will push back. Sometimes the discouraging voice comes from outside. Sometimes—and this is the harder one—it comes from inside our own families. From people we love. Because of this, we have to choose whose voice we’ll follow. Not every voice that sounds reasonable is speaking for God.

 

Third: Jesus called Judas to show us that good is more powerful than evil.

 

On May 18th, 1980, Mount St. Helens erupted. Whole forests were flattened. A thick blanket of dark ash smothered the land for miles. People described it as a landscape straight out of a nightmare.

 

And yet, within weeks, small wildflowers began pushing up through the still-smoldering soot.

 

Life is stronger than death. Good is more potent than evil. Ultimately, one of the most important things you and I can believe about God is this: the final chapter of every evil episode has not yet been written.

 

In short, the last word on the evils of life —or any cross we carry—will be written by the hand of the One who conquered death and who loves you with all his heart. So plant your feet firmly on God’s side of the story, and become a partner with him! Help God overcome evil with good!

And here as Easter draws to a close, we are challenged to take our resurrection faith to our homes and our schools and our relationships. Never take our resurrection faith lightly.

For there are people all around us who know the tears and heartaches and despair the devil creates. People need people like you – Christ-followers who understand the reality of evil…

…but have the courage to stand up and testify to the goodness of the God of Easter!

Christ is risen!

 

Alleluia!