Pilate then called together the chief priests and the rulers and the people, and said to them, “You brought me this man as one who was misleading the people. And after examining him before you, behold, I did not find this man guilty of any of your charges against him. Neither did Herod, for he sent him back to us. Look, nothing deserving death has been done by him. I will therefore punish and release him.” But they all cried out together, “Away with this man, and release to us Barabbas”— a man who had been thrown into prison for an insurrection started in the city and for murder. Pilate addressed them once more, desiring to release Jesus, but they kept shouting, “Crucify, crucify him!” A third time he said to them, “Why? What evil has he done? I have found in him no guilt deserving death. I will therefore punish and release him.” But they were urgent, demanding with loud cries that he should be crucified. And their voices prevailed. So Pilate decided that their demand should be granted. (Luke 23:13-24)

Pilate was not a worshiper of God. Yet when Jesus became an issue he could no longer avoid, Pilate had to look directly into the face of truth. And what he saw, again and again, was innocence, as he repeated three times, “I find no guilt in this man.” Logic, evidence, and even his own conscience pointed to one conclusion: Jesus had done nothing worthy of death.

Still, the crowd would not relent, and the cries to crucify Him echoed through the air. And in the end, “their voices prevailed.” Not justice. Not truth. Not the integrity of a Roman governor in a seat of power. Just the pressure of a crowd prevailing.

Pilate’s failure is one we’re tempted to repeat in subtle ways. When standing for truth becomes costly – when it risks our reputation, our influence, or our comfort – how often do we remain silent or step aside? Though Pilate had no covenant relationship with God, his position still demanded a standard of righteousness. Authority always carries responsibility. And when Pilate yielded to the mob, he wasn’t just handing over an innocent man – he was surrendering to fear.

Charles Spurgeon once said, “He who kneels before God can stand before any man.” But Pilate didn’t kneel. He stood in front of Truth incarnate and crumbled under the weight of the crowd’s lofty chant. His heart may have been momentarily stirred, but ultimately his spine failed him. And with that, he walked away complicit in the greatest injustice the world has ever known.

As followers of Christ, we are not called to blend into the crowd, but to reflect the character of our King. Jesus stood silent in the face of false accusation, not because He lacked strength, but because He knew His silence fulfilled the Father’s will. He bore injustice to make us just. But now that we are made right with God, we must be willing to stand for what is right – even when it costs us something.

You may never face a literal crowd crying out against you. But you will face moments when the easy path is to ignore injustice, to overlook a lie, to choose silence when truth is begging to be spoken. In those moments, remember Pilate – and choose differently.

If you’ve been in Pilate’s shoes before, where your spine has failed you – take heart: there is grace. Let that grace move you to a new resolve of choosing to stand for truth. Let us be people of courage, grounded in prayer, fearless in the face of pressure – because we kneel before the throne of God.

When Pilate heard this, he asked whether the man was a Galilean. And when he learned that he belonged to Herod’s jurisdiction, he sent him over to Herod, who was himself in Jerusalem at that time. When Herod saw Jesus, he was very glad, for he had long desired to see him, because he had heard about him, and he was hoping to see some sign done by him. So he questioned him at some length, but he made no answer. The chief priests and the scribes stood by, vehemently accusing him. And Herod with his soldiers treated him with contempt and mocked him. Then, arraying him in splendid clothing, he sent him back to Pilate. And Herod and Pilate became friends with each other that very day, for before this they had been at enmity with each other. (Luke 23:6-12)

In this section, we read of a courtroom type drama that wasn’t about justice at all. Jesus stood before rulers and religious elites, not to receive a fair trial, but to be passed off, mocked, and mishandled. Each person in this passage had the opportunity to respond rightly to the Son of God – yet each chose selfishness instead.

Pilate didn’t seek justice, he sought convenience. When he realized Jesus was from Galilee, he immediately saw a way to get this uncomfortable situation off his plate. By sending Jesus to Herod, Pilate thought he could wash his hands of the matter with no investigation and no courage to stand for truth. It was just an opportunity to shift responsibility and avoid dealing with the weight of the decision.

Herod didn’t seek justice, he sought entertainment. When Jesus was brought before him, Herod was glad – not because he longed to hear truth, but because he hoped for a show. Some miracle, some sign, basically something flashy. But Jesus refused to perform and He had nothing to prove to a man who had no intention of listening.

The chief priests and scribes didn’t seek justice, they sought their own agenda. They only cared about eliminating the threat to their power and influence; the influence and status among the people that they had worked so hard to build, and Jesus disrupted that. So instead of humbling themselves and acknowledging the Messiah, they stirred up false accusations and manipulated the system to preserve their own status.

And the soldiers? They didn’t seek justice either. They joined in the mockery. Jesus, innocent and silent, became their punchline. They dressed Him in royal robes, not to honor Him, but to humiliate Him. It was sport. It was just another way to pass the time and feel superior.

And in a twisted irony, we read that “Herod and Pilate became friends with each other that very day, for before this they had been at enmity with each other.” How did their friendship begin? Through the selfish handling of Jesus. Their unity was not built on truth or justice – it was built on sin.

Jesus brings people together. For some, He is the Cornerstone upon which a community of grace and truth is built with sinners saved by mercy, are sharpening one another and growing together in faith. But for others, He is a threat or an inconvenience, and their shared mishandling of Him becomes the glue that binds them in sin.

So we must ask ourselves: What do we desire when we see Jesus?

When we come to church, are we coming to worship the Living God – or to be entertained by the worship team and the pastor’s witty humor during a sermon? When we interact with fellow believers, do we sharpen one another and walk in accountability – or do we stroke one another’s egos and build relationships around comfort and self-preservation?

I pray that we would not be like Pilate, Herod, or the chief priests, and soldiers; seeking to use Jesus for our own selfish means. May we instead be people who truly seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God (Micah 6:8), and may our hearts be set not on self, but on the One who stood silently, innocently, and sacrificially – for us.

Then the whole company of them arose and brought him before Pilate. And they began to accuse him, saying, “We found this man misleading our nation and forbidding us to give tribute to Caesar, and saying that he himself is Christ, a king.” And Pilate asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” And he answered him, “You have said so.” Then Pilate said to the chief priests and the crowds, “I find no guilt in this man.” (Luke 23:1-4)

Jesus stood before Pilate, innocent yet accused. The religious leaders had stirred up false charges, twisting His words and motives to paint Him as a political threat. They claimed He incited rebellion and denied taxes to Caesar – neither of which was true. Yet in the face of their lies, Jesus didn’t fight back. When questioned directly, He simply responded, “You have said so.”

Jesus didn’t launch into long-winded defense monologues, no scrambling to clear His name, no dramatic pleas for justice, no blame-shifting or arguments – just quiet strength and truth. Jesus’ response is deeply countercultural, and deeply instructive for us.

When we’re falsely accused, misrepresented, or misunderstood, our natural reaction is to explain, defend, or justify. We want to correct the record, protect our reputation, and convince others of our innocence. Often, we use many words in these situations – not always to clarify, but sometimes to deflect or shift the blame. But Jesus, the only truly innocent man, modeled a different way. He stood in truth and entrusted Himself to the One who judges justly (1 Peter 2:23). He knew the outcome was not in Pilate’s hands, nor in the hands of the angry crowd. It was in the hands of His Father, and for Him, that was enough.

This doesn’t mean we’ll never face painful or unfair situations; Jesus was falsely accused and crucified. But it does mean that we can release the pressure to constantly defend ourselves. God is our defender - He sees, He knows, and He is working all things for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28).

When we resist the urge to over-explain or vindicate ourselves and instead walk in quiet confidence, we mirror Christ’s trust in the Father’s sovereignty. Sometimes the most powerful response is not a long defense, but a simple word of truth – spoken in peace, not in panic.

Our reputation is not in our hands, it’s in God’s. And when we surrender the outcome to Him, we find freedom from fear and striving. Jesus knew where His story was headed – even if others didn’t. Yet He knew the cross wasn’t the end but the path to redemption and glory.

When we’re falsely accused or misunderstood, may we not strive to prove and defend ourselves, but instead to walk quietly in the confidence we have in God, remembering that He is our defender.

When day came, the assembly of the elders of the people gathered together, both chief priests and scribes. And they led him away to their council, and they said, “If you are the Christ, tell us.” But he said to them, “If I tell you, you will not believe, and if I ask you, you will not answer. But from now on the Son of Man shall be seated at the right hand of the power of God.” So they all said, “Are you the Son of God, then?” And he said to them, “You say that I am.” Then they said, “What further testimony do we need? We have heard it ourselves from his own lips.” (Luke 22:66-71)

After a long night of betrayal, arrest, and denial, Jesus stood before the council of elders, chief priests, and scribes. These were the most powerful religious leaders of the day – men trained in the Law, scholars of the Scriptures, the very people who should have been first to recognize the Messiah. And yet, when Truth stood before them in the flesh, they refused to believe.

They asked, “Are you the Son of God, then?” And Jesus answered plainly, confirming their question: “You say that I am.” It was a direct affirmation of His divinity. They had heard it from His own lips. This wasn’t a rumor, a secondhand claim, or an interpretation – it was Jesus Himself, identifying as the Son of God, the long-awaited Messiah.

And still, they rejected Him.

Why? Because they weren’t asking to receive truth—they were asking to trap Him. They approached the Son of God not with open hearts, but with hardened agendas. They weren’t seeking truth, they were seeking justification to kill Him. And when He told them the truth, they took it as confirmation bias to fit their agenda and twisted the truth into a charge to crucify Him over.

This passage holds a sobering warning for us today: If we approach God with an agenda, rather than a humble desire to know and obey the truth, we may miss what He’s saying altogether and find ourselves opposing God.

It’s easy to read Scripture looking for support for what we already believe. It’s tempting to pray in hopes that we get the answer we want, instead of submitting to the answer God gives. But truth doesn’t bend to our pride or preferences. It takes humility to accept truth that challenges us, corrects us, or calls us to change.

The religious leaders of Jesus’ day knew the Scriptures, but they didn’t know God. They clung to their control and self-image, unwilling to surrender to the One standing right in front of them - God. Their pride blinded them to the truth they had been waiting for.

Let’s not fall into the same trap. When you open God’s Word, let it be with a heart ready to receive – not edit. When you ask God for direction, have a heart truly wanting His will, not your own will dressed up in religious language. When He speaks, whether through Scripture, the Spirit, or wise counsel – take Him at His Word.

May we have hearts who seek God in truth, being stripped of our pride, our assumptions, and our agendas – able to listen and receive with humility. Let us not be those who hear and twist, but those who hear, receive, and obey.

Then they seized him and led him away, bringing him into the high priest’s house, and Peter was following at a distance. And when they had kindled a fire in the middle of the courtyard and sat down together, Peter sat down among them. Then a servant girl, seeing him as he sat in the light and looking closely at him, said, “This man also was with him.” But he denied it, saying, “Woman, I do not know him.” And a little later someone else saw him and said, “You also are one of them.” But Peter said, “Man, I am not.” And after an interval of about an hour still another insisted, saying, “Certainly this man also was with him, for he too is a Galilean.” But Peter said, “Man, I do not know what you are talking about.” And immediately, while he was still speaking, the rooster crowed. And the Lord turned and looked at Peter. And Peter remembered the saying of the Lord, how he had said to him, “Before the rooster crows today, you will deny me three times.” And he went out and wept bitterly. (Luke 22:54-62)

Before this moment of repeated denial, Peter had been bold, confident, and even defiant in his loyalty to Jesus, as he declared, “Lord, I am ready to go with you both to prison and to death,” (Luke 22:33). But boldness without surrender is fragile. In the pressure of the courtyard, under the uncertain view of strangers, Peter crumbled. Not once, not twice, but three times he denied even knowing Jesus. And just as the rooster crowed, fulfilling the Lord’s prophetic words – Jesus turned and looked at him.

Can you imagine that moment?

Jesus’ look wouldn’t have been a glare of condemnation or rage. It wouldn’t have even been a look of disgust or rejection. I imagine in Jesus’ eyes was a look of grief – not for Himself, but for Peter. Because Jesus knew Peter’s pain was only beginning. He knew the weight of shame Peter would carry, the bitter sorrow of realizing he had denied the Messiah – the very Savior of his soul. And yet, even in that look, there was still love. A silent reminder that Jesus’ mission was not over – and neither was Peter’s story.

If we get caught up in what people think of us and fear how our identity in Christ will affect us here and now, we can falter in our faith and deny the very One who died to save us. That is a bitter place to be, but Peter’s story reminds us that our failures here are not final with God.

Yes, Peter wept bitterly. Grief is part of repentance. But Jesus had already spoken life into Peter’s future: “When you have turned again, strengthen your brothers” (Luke 22:32). Jesus knew Peter would fall, but He also knew Peter would rise again – and he did. After Jesus’ resurrection, Peter was restored, commissioned, and became a pillar of the early Church. Peter’s denial didn’t define him – his repentance and obedience did.

And eventually, this same man who once shrank back from being associated with Jesus boldly preached the gospel to thousands. Church tradition tells us Peter died crucified upside down, unwilling to die in the same manner as his Lord. The man who once feared for his life to the point of denial, finished his race having found his identity entirely in Christ and willingly died as His humble follower.

We all stumble. We all have our moments of fear, weakness, or compromise. But it’s not about how we started – it’s about how we finish. Will we allow our sin to drive us away in shame? Or will we let godly sorrow lead us to repentance and reconciliation?

When the Lord looks into the depths of your soul after you’ve sinned, see the grief in His eyes—not because He’s shocked, but because He longs for reconciliation and restoration. Share in that grief, and let it soften your heart to repentance. Return to Him, and let your story continue in His grace.

While he was still speaking, there came a crowd, and the man called Judas, one of the twelve, was leading them. He drew near to Jesus to kiss him, but Jesus said to him, “Judas, would you betray the Son of Man with a kiss?” And when those who were around him saw what would follow, they said, “Lord, shall we strike with the sword?” And one of them struck the servant of the high priest and cut off his right ear. But Jesus said, “No more of this!” And he touched his ear and healed him. Then Jesus said to the chief priests and officers of the temple and elders, who had come out against him, “Have you come out as against a robber, with swords and clubs? When I was with you day after day in the temple, you did not lay hands on me. But this is your hour, and the power of darkness.” (Luke 22:47-53)

In the chaos of betrayal by Judas, Peter, being zealous and reactive, drew his sword and struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his right ear. It was an impulsive and dangerous act, and even though he asked Jesus if he should do it, he didn’t wait for a response before he acted on his impulse. Not only was it an act of violence, it could have sealed Peter’s fate with a death penalty because he had attacked a servant of the high priest – one of the most powerful religious figures in Israel. This situation could have meant not only Jesus’ arrest, but Peter’s death too.

But Jesus did something astonishing in the middle of that dark moment: He stopped the violence, spoke peace over the scene, and then healed the servant’s ear, right then and there. No bandages, no scarring, no evidence that it had ever happened. The servant’s ear was completely restored – and Peter’s guilt, though very real, was suddenly without a consequence he’d have to pay.

What a beautiful foreshadowing of the cross.

Jesus didn’t just heal the ear – He also removed the evidence of the disciple’s wrongdoing. Jesus covered Peter’s failure before it could condemn him to death. That’s what Jesus came to do for us all on the cross. He bore our guilt and shame, and by His wounds, we are healed (Isaiah 53:5). Because of His sacrifice, God doesn’t just forgive our sin – He removes the record of it. He makes it like it never happened.

Sometimes we carry guilt for what we’ve done – the mistakes we’ve made, outbursts of anger that we regret, decisions we wish we could undo. And yet Jesus steps into the mess we’ve created, not to shame us, but to heal it. To touch what’s broken and fully restore it.

Yet notice that Jesus also confronted the injustice around Him. He rebuked the crowd for coming with swords and clubs, like He were a violent criminal. He called out their darkness – “But this is your hour, and the power of darkness.” Jesus didn’t go blind into His suffering. He saw it clearly, knew it was unjust, and yet submitted – not because He was weak, but because He trusted the Father’s plan. Remember, Jesus had just resolved in prayer to yield fully to the Father’s will, and now, He was walking it out with unwavering grace, peace, and obedience.

And when darkness surrounds us, when injustice seems to be winning, we can follow Jesus’ example of trusting the Father and submitting to His will; not because it’s easy, but because He is faithful. And in the middle of chaos, whether caused by others or by our own failures—remember that Jesus still heals, still restores, and still covers our sin by His grace and mercy.

Jesus not only healed the servant’s ear then, He desires to heal your soul now. Trust God and let Him heal you completely.

And he came out and went, as was his custom, to the Mount of Olives, and the disciples followed him. And when he came to the place, he said to them, “Pray that you may not enter into temptation.” And he withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, and knelt down and prayed, saying, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him. And being in agony he prayed more earnestly; and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground. And when he rose from prayer, he came to the disciples and found them sleeping for sorrow, and he said to them, “Why are you sleeping? Rise and pray that you may not enter into temptation.” (Luke 22:39-46)

In the most agonizing moments of His life, Jesus did not run from God – He ran to Him. As the weight of the cross drew nearer, Jesus went to the Mount of Olives to pray, as was His custom. This wasn’t new, prayer was a big part of Jesus’ lifestyle – it was His safe place, His renewal of strength, His lifeline to the Father. And in this moment of overwhelming sorrow, He modeled what to do when temptation and suffering feel unbearable: pray.

Jesus had every reason to feel tempted. The cross was not only physical torture – it was separation, public humiliation, and the crushing weight of all sin and God’s wrath. Jesus knew what was coming, and He possibly could have remembered Satan’s offer in the wilderness. That earlier temptation – “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me” (Matthew 4:9) – an offer meant to tempt avoidance of the cross. A temptation of an easier way – a way out.

But instead of entering into that temptation, Jesus entered into prayer.

He cried out, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” This is the essence of prayer: not to avoid all pain or get what we want, but to bring every fear, every weakness, and every desire to God – and then submit to His will in full trust and surrender.

Jesus’ instructions to His disciples are just as urgent for us: “Pray that you may not enter into temptation.” Temptation is not sin—but without prayer, we are far more likely to fall into sin. Whether it’s the temptation to give up, lash out, run away, or seek comfort outside of God’s will, our greatest protection is not our willpower – it’s our connection with the Father.

Fervent and genuine prayer doesn’t always change our circumstances, but it does change us. Prayer strengthens our resolve, reminds us of truth, re-centers our perspective, and fills us with grace to obey, even when it’s hard.

So, when you feel overwhelmed, pray.

When you feel tempted, pray.

When you don’t know what to do, pray.

Jesus has shown us the way and prayer is not a last resort – it’s the path to victory. Our connection to the Father, and strengthening our resolve to do His will, is the pathway to victory over every temptation. May we always make prayer our first response, not just in moments of crisis, but in every moment of life. Let us not enter into temptation, but be led into deeper communion with God through prayer and overcome just as Jesus did.

And he said to them, “When I sent you out with no moneybag or knapsack or sandals, did you lack anything?” They said, “Nothing.” He said to them, “But now let the one who has a moneybag take it, and likewise a knapsack. And let the one who has no sword sell his cloak and buy one. For I tell you that this Scripture must be fulfilled in me: ‘And he was numbered with the transgressors.’ For what is written about me has its fulfillment.” And they said, “Look, Lord, here are two swords.” And he said to them, “It is enough.” (Luke 22:35-38)

In these final hours before the cross, Jesus prepared His disciples for a change. Once, He sent them out with nothing—and miraculously, they lacked nothing. God’s provision was supernatural, constant, and clear. But now, He tells them to take their belongings, even to buy a sword. What changed?

Nothing changed about God’s care and provision, but the method would shift. Jesus was about to be numbered with the transgressors, fulfilling Isaiah’s prophecy. The cross was near, and the world would treat the disciples the way it had treated Him. Persecution would inevitably come. The season of miraculous provision had not ended, but God was now about to provide through practical means – through obedient preparation, through wisdom, and sometimes through hardship.

Jesus was not contradicting His earlier instructions; He was purposefully inviting them to trust again – this time in a different way. God’s provision is not a formula or some kind of magic. Sometimes He multiplies loaves and fishes; other times, He tells us to bring a bag and a sword. Either way, the call is the same: obedience.

When God calls you into something uncertain, don’t let fear or anxiety rule your steps. Don’t hesitate because you don’t understand how it will all work, just do what He says. If He says “go,” then go. If He says “stay,” then stay. Trust that God always sees the whole picture, even when we don’t.

Jesus modeled this perfectly, knowing full well the pain ahead, and He still obeyed the Father’s will of willingly being counted among sinners to save us. Jesus didn’t trust in comfort or clarity, He trusted in the Father – even unto death.

This is a call to follow in the footsteps of our Savior. Whether God leads you by miraculous supply or by practical preparation, let go of the worry that tries to grip your heart. Say “yes” to His will. Lay down the need to understand every detail, and walk forward with open hands. Where God is guiding you, He will provide for every need, in every season, and in every calling.

Take time to thank God for His provision and ask for forgiveness when you have tried to control outcomes or let fear guide you instead, and then ask the Father to teach you to trust Him like Jesus did, being obedient to do whatever He calls you to, and walking in the confidence that trusting in His provision brings. And may we all learn to walk in our calling as Jesus did, saying, “Father, not my will, but yours, be done.”