JOHN COPIC

Consider the audacity of Peter’s sermon. Standing before thousands, he reaches not for flattery or careful diplomacy, but for the ancient scriptures, and he makes a declaration that would shake the foundations of everything his listeners assumed they understood.

David, he argues, was not writing about himself. How could he be? His tomb was visible, his body long since given to corruption. When Psalm 16 speaks of a Holy One who would not see decay, it reaches past David entirely, pointing toward One whose death could not hold him, whose resurrection would vindicate every promise God had ever made.

This is the breathtaking logic of Peter’s preaching: the resurrection is not a surprise ending. It is the fulfilment of a plan laid before the foundation of the world. What appeared to be Rome’s victory, what seemed like the triumph of jealousy and lawless hands, was in truth the sovereignly ordained moment around which all of history turns.

And here is where it touches us, wherever we stand today. Some in that Pentecost crowd had cried “Crucify him” with genuine hatred in their hearts. Yet mercy was offered freely. Guilt does not disqualify a soul from grace; it simply reveals how desperately grace is needed.

The question Peter’s sermon always asks is the same one that echoes still: knowing what you now know about this Jesus, what will you do?

He who was delivered over because of our wrongdoings, and was raised because of our justification.

Romans 4:25