Luke 22.21-38
for disappointing christians
(Luke 22.21-38)
Jason Procopio
We’ve been going through the gospel of Luke together for two and half years, hearing about Jesus’s incredible ministry as told to Luke by people who were there and who saw it all firsthand.
So it can be a little disheartening to get close to the end, and to see that at least by human standards, Jesus of Nazareth had one of the least successful ministries of all time. Seriously: of how many religious leaders can it be said that in the course of about forty-eight hours, his closest followers abandoned him and those who’d been singing his praises would be clamoring for his death?
You can already see the early rumblings of this “failed” ministry in today’s text.
In last week’s text, Luke 22.7-20, Jesus gives his disciples the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. It’s an incredible beautiful moment.
And directly after that, on the heels of that incredible means of grace Jesus gives his disciples, we see not just one, but a series of actions and reactions from the disciples who are sitting at the table with Jesus. And their reaction to his institution of the Lord’s Supper is about the most disappointing reaction I can imagine as a pastor.
The disciples are there with him, sharing this incredibly important and meaningful moment with Jesus, and immediately after—not even a few minutes later, but right away—they start coming out with the strangest and most inappropriate questions you can fathom. This encourages me greatly as a pastor. Because if Jesus—the Son of God himself—had this kind of reaction when he taught, then clearly it’s not all my fault.
Let’s go back a little bit to remind us of the context. Jesus is at his final meal with his disciples, and they are celebrating this incredibly meaningful feast of the Passover together. They’re reclining at the table, and we read in Luke 22.19:
19 And he took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” 20 And likewise the cup after they had eaten, saying, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.
We saw this last week. He gave them the bread as a symbol of his body, which would be literally broken for them in just a few hours; and he gave them the cup as a symbol of his blood, which would be shed for them. He told them that this meal is a sign of the new covenant he is establishing with them—he would soon present himself as the perfect sacrifice for his people; he would provide for them the fulfillment of the covenant.
It was an absolutely beautiful moment.
And then things take a turn, very quickly. The first turn comes from the reality that one of the people sitting at this table with Jesus was the one who would betray him in a very short time.
Betrayal (v. 21-23)
So you see that at the end of v. 20, there are no end-quotes. Jesus says, This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood, and apparently without pause, he says (v. 21):
21 But behold, the hand of him who betrays me is with me on the table. 22 For the Son of Man goes as it has been determined, but woe to that man by whom he is betrayed!” 23 And they began to question one another, which of them it could be who was going to do this.
Apparently Jesus himself wanted to highlight the first “disappointment” of this moment, saying that as beautiful as this moment was, it was bittersweet. Judas, who had already met with the religious leaders to betray Jesus, and who would do just that in a few hours, was sitting there with them.
It’s sobering to realize that this is Judas’s first (and last) Communion.
We could wonder why Jesus would have let Judas participate in this Communion, knowing what he was about to do. But we should remember that no one is worthy to come to this table with Christ. None of the disciples should have been given this gift.
And Judas’s presence there with Jesus and the other disciples only accentuates the painful fact that Christ’s betrayal was to come from within—from someone with whom he is close, whom he loved.
When Jesus says, “Woe to that man by whom [the Son of Man] is betrayed”, it’s a lament: he knows not only what’s about to happen to himself, but what will happen to Judas afterward. It’s a profoundly sad moment, and it is that moment that kicks off all the others.
The next disappointment we see here is the ego of the disciples.
Ego (v. 24-30)
24 A dispute also arose among them, as to which of them was to be regarded as the greatest.
So try to imagine this scene. They are celebrating the Passover together—the most sacred Jewish feast. As we saw last week, the Passover was a feast to remember the faithfulness of God toward his people.
In the middle of the Passover feast, Jesus gives them this incredible picture of the bread and the cup, which represent the sacrifice he was about to give for his people: his broken body, and his shed blood. This is the fulfillment of the Passover—God continues to show his faithfulness to his people in sending them a Savior.
And just on the heels of that, these idiots are trying to one-up each other. Maybe they were recalling the times when Jesus sent them out to preach the gospel and heal, and they start comparing notes. Or maybe they’re just comparing their relative strengths and weaknesses—surely some of them were more naturally gifted than others.
Whatever the actual content of their discussion, apparently their one-upmanship had risen to the level of an actual dispute.
I hear Jack do this with his little buddies all the time.
“Did you see how high I kicked the ball? It was ten feet over your head!”
“Yeah, but when I did it, it was fifty feet over your head! I’m the best!”
“No, I’m the best!”
“No, I’M the best!”
Now with Jack and his friends, that’s understandable, because they’re seven. That’s what kids do.
But these are grown men. They have been following Jesus around for three years. They’ve seen him act, they’ve heard him teach, they’ve benefitted from his sanctifying presence. And they’re still being derailed by ego.
So reading this, I would expect Jesus to act like I usually do when I hear Jack doing that with his friends: I scold him, because arrogance is unbecoming, and because it’s embarrassing to have your kid talk like that.
But Jesus doesn’t do that. He doesn’t get angry; he doesn’t scold. He takes the time to course-correct. He actually affirms their desire to be great, but says that if you want to be great, here’s how you go about it.
V. 25:
25 And he said to them, “The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them, and those in authority over them are called benefactors. 26 But not so with you. Rather, let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and the leader as one who serves. 27 For who is the greater, one who reclines at table or one who serves? Is it not the one who reclines at table? But I am among you as the one who serves.
So Jesus does two things here that are just brilliant.
First of all, he shows them what true greatness is—it’s not posturing and domineering like every bad human leader ever. It’s service. It’s putting yourself below the ones you are supposed to lead. And it’s brilliant because no one naturally hesitates to follow someone who serves others well.
The second brilliant thing he does is remind his disciples that he is the ultimately great one they all want to be. He says true greatness shows itself in service; and then reminds them of what they should have remembered all along—that I am among you as the one who serves.
They’re arguing about who’s the greatest—and the answer is, as always, Jesus. They have never seen Jesus do anything but serve those he leads, which makes this dispute utterly ridiculous.
And yet, not only does he teach them rather than scold them; he shows them an unbelievable amount of gentleness and grace.
V. 28:
28 “You are those who have stayed with me in my trials, 29 and I assign to you, as my Father assigned to me, a kingdom, 30 that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom and sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel.
In other words, he doesn’t condemn them for their ego. He doesn’t condemn them for their pride. In some sense, he knows they’re still children in their thinking.
Rather than condemn them, he gives them a kingdom—a place at his table, a role in his kingdom. And a substantial role at that: the role of being judges of his people, alongside him.
And the way he says it is absolutely fascinating—he affirms the fact that they have stayed with him in his trials…despite the fact that in just a few hours, one of them would betray him, another would deny him, and the rest (all but one) would abandon him. He treats them as he knows they will one day become, not as they actually are today.
Just as he does for us all.
On to the third disappointment: the naïve overconfidence of Peter.
Naïve self-sufficiency (v. 31-34)
31 “Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat, 32 but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers.”
So this starts off in a fascinating way. Peter doesn’t say anything; Jesus rather addresses him. And he says something that once again reminds us of what we saw a couple weeks ago, when we talked about Satan and Judas.
If you ask Christians who reigns over our world at this very moment, today, a lot of them would say, “Satan.” When pressed on this, they’ll say, “Just look at the state of this world. Clearly Satan’s the one pulling the strings.”
If that sounds surprising to you, it shouldn’t be; someone said something very like this to me just a couple weeks ago, and it’s far more common than we think.
But in verse 31, we see that whatever power Satan does have is in fact very limited.
Jesus tells Peter, “Satan demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat.” In verse 31, both time the word you is used, it’s plural—Satan demanded to have all the disciples.
If any of us heard God say that to us, we would reflexively gulp—the idea that Satan himself has personally singled us out for attack is a terrifying one.
But we should remember this. Just like in the case of Job, before Satan could do anything to the disciples, he had to ask for permission. He had to get the green light from God; he demanded to have them. He couldn’t just take them.
Now in v. 32, the you goes from plural to singular—Jesus tells Peter, I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers.
There’s a lot of grace in what Jesus says here, but Peter apparently doesn’t hear it—nor does he hear the exhortation to take care of his brothers. (Not yet, anyway.)
Jesus tells Peter, When you turn again, strengthen your brothers.
And what Peter hears is, You’ll turn away from me, and you’ll have to turn back.
And apparently he’s a little insulted at the idea that Satan could do anything to make him turn away. Not because he thinks Satan isn’t strong, but because he’s quite confident in his own abilities to resist him.
V. 33:
33 Peter said to him, “Lord, I am ready to go with you both to prison and to death.”
This shouldn’t surprise us—Peter is the loudest disciple. He’s the one who always has an idea, the first one to get up and get moving on whatever task is at hand. He’s the brave one. He’s Luke Skywalker in The Empire Strikes Back: not quite finished with his training yet, but still confident he can take on Darth Vader and rescue his friends, even though he’s not remotely up to it. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about and haven’t seen The Empire Strikes Back, shame on you. Go see it.)
There is no doubt in Peter’s mind that whatever these fools do, he’s not going to turn. He’ll be right by Jesus’s side, fighting with him.
But Jesus gives him a reality check—things are about to get a lot worse than you think, and you will not resist the temptation to fear.
V. 34:
34 Jesus said, “I tell you, Peter, the rooster will not crow this day, until you deny three times that you know me.”
Peter may not have believed him at this point, but he would soon.
The last disappointment we see is a lot simpler, and I can’t think of any better way to describe it: the disciples just don’t get it.
Incomprehension (v. 35-37)
35 And he said to them, “When I sent you out with no moneybag or knapsack or sandals, did you lack anything?” They said, “Nothing.” 36 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. 37 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.” 38 And they said, “Look, Lord, here are two swords.” And he said to them, “It is enough.”
On two other occasions in this gospel (9.3, 10.4), Jesus sent out his disciples to preach the gospel, and to bring no provisions with them. He told them to do this because he sent them out with all of the power and resources he had given them, and their proclamation of the gospel would be so bold and empowered that their hearers would provide everything they needed.
But now, with his arrest, trial and death imminent, the nature of his ministry was about to fundamentally change.
We talked in our home group a couple weeks ago about why the religious authorities didn’t just hire someone to kill Jesus in the street. Jesus wasn’t followed around by the Secret Service; an assassin with a knife could easily do the job. So why go through all the rigamarole of arresting him, and getting the Romans involved, and setting up a public trial?
And at least part of the answer is that they wanted to make a public spectacle of Jesus. They wanted to show the people that the power and authority of the religious leaders and of Rome herself were against this man. They wanted to convince them that this Jesus was not the good man they thought he was, because good men are not condemned and crucified.
It was going to work brilliantly. Jesus knew that in just a few hours, the crowds which had accepted him were about to turn against him.
So from here on out, going out in the name of Jesus was going to be a dangerous endeavor.
He tells them to take their money, to take a bag with them, and to buy a sword. We shouldn’t take this to mean that they should arm up and literally get ready to fight back (cf. John 18.10-11), but rather, that they should be ready to go through a profoundly difficult period of time. This was going to get worse than any of them were expecting, because, as he said in v. 37, quoting Isaiah, he was about to be numbered with the transgressors.
Surely the disciples picked up on his reference, but they just didn’t get it. They clearly didn’t understand just how bad it was going to get. And to prove it, they get hung up on one particular detail.
“Sword? Hey, we’ve got two swords! Don’t worry, we’re ready.”
Many commentators have noted that when Jesus says, “It is enough,” he’s giving the ancient Israel equivalent of an eye-roll: “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The weight of this meal could not be overstated. They’ve celebrated the Passover, this most important of Jewish feasts; he has given them the sacrament of Communion, foreshadowing (in pretty unsubtle terms) his own death for them.
He’s telling them that their lives are about to fundamentally change forever, that he’s literally about to be killed, that everyone who has seen him as a teacher sent from God is going to count him as a common criminal, worthy of death…
And this is how they respond.
With betrayal… With a fight about who’s the best among them… With spectacular overconfidence… And with incomprehension, and attention to a stupid detail that wasn’t the point at all. It’s not so much that it’s sinful; it’s just that they are so focused on the wrong thing that they find themselves waylaid by completely insignificant details.
“We’ve got it! We’ve got two swords, not just one! We’re good!”
And Jesus says, “Okay, that’s enough.”
Hope
Now can we just acknowledge that this does not bode well for us?
Think about it. These guys were hand-picked by Jesus himself. They had been literally living with the incarnate Son of God for three years. They’d had thousands of conversations with him. They knew what he smelled like. They knew what he looked like when he cried. They knew what he sounded like when he laughed. They knew what he liked to eat. They’d seen him preparing meals, and talked with him while they walked from place to place, and seen how he reacted to insult and to praise. They’d seen him mourn the death of a friend, and celebrate at a wedding. They’d heard every teaching we have recorded in these gospels, and many more, in his own voice.
These guys knew Jesus in a way that you and I have a hard time imagining.
So reading this passage can be pretty unsettling, because if these men would act this way after all that time spent getting to know the Son of God, then what hope could there possibly be for us?
We’ll know the answer to that question if we pay attention to what we see here, and which we’ve seen in the previous texts.
In v. 37, Jesus cites Isaiah 53—the chapter in which we see Isaiah’s prophecy of the suffering servant, who was crushed by the will of the Lord, wounded for our transgressions. He’d said long ago that it would happen this way.
In v. 22, Jesus reminds the disciples that the Son of Man goes [to his death] as it has been determined...
As strange as it may seem, all of this—from the betrayal of Judas and the actions of Satan to the most ridiculous, immature and prideful sins of the disciples here—is exactly what God had planned.
And God’s plan was working itself out so that Jesus would be numbered among the transgressors—why?—in order that he might bear the sins of his people and make intercession for them (as he said in Isaiah 53.12), and as he had just finished showing them minutes before:
This is my body, which is given for you… This cup is the new covenant in my blood…
On the cross Jesus Christ took on himself all the sins of all his people—even such silly, immature and prideful sins as the disciples display here.
And that’s what he was getting at in v. 28-30, when he says, “I assign to you, as my Father assigned to me, a kingdom, that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom.” No matter what the disciples actually were at this point in time, Jesus acts toward them according to what they will be.
Out of this frankly shameful and thick-headed group of men, Christ founded his church. Peter, who shows a shocking lack of self-awareness here, and who would deny even knowing Jesus in just a few hours, would, in just a little over a month, stand up on a roof and preach a sermon after which 3,000 people would come to faith in Christ. All but one of these men would go, and bring the gospel to the nations, and plant churches, and be the motor through which God’s Spirit would make known his glory to the ends of the earth.
That is our hope. And it is just as sure, and just as steady as theirs.
Because in addition to all of that, for all the knowledge the disciples had of Christ at this point in the story, for all the depth of their friendship with him, we can still know Christ better today than they did at that moment.
At that moment, they could see Jesus and hear him and be in the room with him. But afterward, after his death and resurrection and ascension, Jesus would send the Holy Spirit to his disciples, and to all of his children—including us.
So we don’t just get to know Christ; the presence of Christ lives in us through his Holy Spirit.
Out of this really shameful group of men, Christ founded his church.
And like this really shameful group of men, Christ has sent his Spirit to live in us.
So although we too are a group of shameful men and women, we have a great hope.
If we’re reading this text today, it’s very possible that we are freaked out right now, because we totally identify with these guys.
Have we betrayed him?
Yes. We do it every day. We sin against him—we forget him, we run to idols, we mock him with our lives—every day.
And yet, he still invites us to his table—and unlike Judas, who would die around the same time as Jesus, we get to keep coming back to the table. There is no “woe to that man by whom he is betrayed” for us, because that’s done. He’s already gone to the cross.
And because of that, he invites us—no matter the betrayal—to repent of our sin and return to him.
Are we prideful?
Did you guys see that Kanye West released his first Christian album on Saturday? I felt like I needed to address this because at least some of you will be wondering what to do with it.
I spent some time with Kanye yesterday; the album is called Jesus Is King. I was very skeptical about this: anyone who’s followed him for any amount of time knows that a lot of what he says can come off sounding a bit off the wall.
But I have to say: the album is pretty good. Not just musically—we wouldn’t expect anything less from him—but even in terms of the content.
Let’s be clear: it’s not perfect. Even Kanye himself said, “I’m not a theologian; I’m a recent convert.” By his own admission, the content of the album reflects the faith of a brand-new Christian who is still ignorant of much of the Bible. This is not what we would call gospel-centered music. It’s very superficial, light on doctrine and heavy on churchy jargon. And some of the old persona he’s spent so much time building over the years is still present.
But in the album, he goes much further than many contemporary Christian artists in being ultra-explicit that for all his faults, he wants Christ to be the Lord of his life. So in that respect, it’s refreshing to hear.
What was just as interesting to me was an interview he gave with Beats 1 at the same time the album dropped. It was a long interview (some of which I’ve already seen misquoted by Christians who want to write him off), but there was one moment in particular that was interesting. It was the moment when his famous pride reared its ugly head again.
He said God is “using him to show off,” taking an artist like him and converting him so radically before the eyes of the millions who watch to him. The kicker came when he said (and I quote): “I am unquestionably, undoubtedly, the greatest human artist of all time. There's not even a question anymore at this point. It's just a fact.”
Now just to be clear: that’s a terrible thing for a Christian to say. No doubt about about it. It’s the kind of statement that makes you put air-quotes around the word, as in, Kanye West says he’s a “Christian” now.
But I didn’t read that quote so that we could say, Whew! Thank goodness! Kanye’s faith is clearly phony, we can all go back to our lives now.
I read that quote to show that what Jesus said in v. 25-30, he said to guys who were acting exactly like Kanye. What he said in that interview is the quintessential modern version of the disciples, arguing over who among them is the greatest.
And how did Jesus respond?
Not by calling them out on their pride, but by telling them he was giving them a kingdom.
He taught them with gentleness and grace.
He reminded them of his life, which showed that the greatest is the one who serves.
In the gospel, God shows us again and again how small we really are, and why that is good news.
He shows us that we are not as good as we think we are—so we are, by our nature, under his judgment.
He shows us that we could not save ourselves—so he sent us a Savior, to be our sacrifice.
He shows us that even after he sent a Savior, we did not want him—so he sent us his Spirit, to change our hearts and draw us to him and to make us like him.
Every step of the way, he is the factor for change in our lives, not ourselves.
And these prideful disciples would understand that, just a short time after. These men who were fighting for first place would soon give their lives—literally—for the One they served.
I have to say, I was skeptical about Kanye West. And no one knows what will come of his faith over the long term. But if there’s hope for the disciples, there’s hope for him too. And there’s hope for us.
Are we naïvely overconfident (and thus susceptible to temptation)?
Absolutely.
And if you’re not sure that’s true, here’s a real simple test: ask yourself if you pray enough. Our prayers show us just how confident in ourselves we really are, because if we really knew that we can do nothing on our own, we’d be praying all the time. We’d find ourselves constantly placing ourselves in God’s hand and asking him, with great sincerity, Lead me not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
But for a good many of us, our prayer life is probably limited to a quick five minutes while we’re brushing our teeth or while we’re in the métro, and then it’s mostly giving the Lord a laundry list of stuff we’d like him to do today.
We are wildly overconfident in our own abilities to do what we need to do on our own.
And so, in his grace, God allows us to fail. He gives us trials. He takes from us the abilities we use as crutches, and shows us that we really, truly cannot do this without him. And by his Spirit, rather than crushing us under the weight of our own inability, he encourages us to know that while we can do nothing on our own, he can give us the strength to stay faithful in any situation.
Are we waylaid by meaningless details, all the while missing the big picture?
Of course we are.
Here’s a very simple example. You’re reading your Bible, you come across a detail that is a bit perplexing, and you spend so much time trying to figure out the perplexing thing that you completely miss the point the larger passage was trying to make.
If someone asked you what you read in, say, 1 Peter 3, you’d think of verse 19, where it says that Christ “proclaimed to the spirits in prison”. You’d remember that because you spent so much time trying to figure out what that meant. But if anyone asked you what Peter was trying to say in that chapter, you’d totally forget that Peter was actually talking about how Christ allows us to persevere in suffering.
We get so focused on details that we forget the point.
Or here’s another example, on a larger scale.
How many of you, after becoming a Christian, have spent hours toiling over the question, Now that I am a Christian, what is the will of God for my life? Where does he want me to live? What job does he want me to do? Who does he want me to marry?
Now of course, it’s not that the Bible says nothing about these things; it’s just that these things—where we live or what our profession is or who we marry—aren’t the main thing.
And that’s good news, because God, in his grace, tells us the main thing. It’s not as if he has one perfect plan for our lives and leaves us to fend for ourselves and figure it out, and if we don’t—oh no, we’re missing out on God’s will.
No—he’s told us his will for our lives.
1 Thessalonians 4.3-7:
3 For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality; 4 that each one of you know how to control his own body in holiness and honor, 5 not in the passion of lust like the Gentiles who do not know God; 6 that no one transgress and wrong his brother… 7 For God has not called us for impurity, but in holiness.
1 Thessalonians 5.16-18:
16 Rejoice always, 17 pray without ceasing, 18 give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
1 Peter 2.15:
15 For this is the will of God, that by doing good you should put to silence the ignorance of foolish people. 16 Live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God.
In his grace, God has told us what is essential, to keep us from being detoured by insignificant details: that in Christ, we are his people, so he calls us to live as his people, in conformity to our brother Jesus Christ.
Brothers and sisters, here’s the point of all this.
The disciples’ story is our story; the disciples’ folly is our folly; and the disciples’ hope is our hope.
So don’t be discouraged. Learn from the disciples’ mistakes, and stay faithful. Grow in the new nature Christ has given you. Pray without ceasing, and remember he provides for your every need. Don’t be distracted by insignificant details, but remember what is essential.
We can do it—or rather, he will do it in us. If he did it for these jokers, he can, and will, do it for us.
