Whenever I hear the story about Peter denying Christ three times in the courtyard, I recall all the years when I did my best to spread the gospel of nihilism in the classroom.
I was a college philosophy instructor and stood before a captive audience of freshman students, and so had the perfect situation to evangelize what I now think of as the bad news. Namely, that life is essentially meaningless, there is no one at the helm of the universe, and after we die we just turn into a pile of dust.
Philosophy teachers are supposed to remain neutral when explaining hot-button topics like the existence of God, the creation of the universe and the validity of certain religious claims. Looking back, though, I suspect my students knew exactly where I stood.
After all, a wink here, an extra word of emphasis there, a sigh at precisely the right moment — and students quickly figure out what the instructor really believes.
After one term ended, a shy student handed me a leather-bound book called “Mere Christianity” by C.S. Lewis. “You might like the arguments,” she said quietly.
I stashed the book away on a shelf — and it was probably a decade later that I decided to take it down and look through it.
What prompted me to do that? Hard to say, but before long I did indeed become intrigued with the arguments Lewis presented about Christ. Three possibilities existed, he said: Either Jesus was a liar, or he was crazy — or he was divine, just as he claimed to be.
It doesn’t take a genius to conclude Jesus was a good man and, thus, no liar. After all, he took pity on lepers, fed the hungry crowds and emphasized forgiveness. In the Gospels he stands out as a shining example of kindness and mercy.
Was he crazy? Even those who put him to death didn’t accuse him of that. In fact, they were after him because they knew he was a powerful figure who could attract many followers. And if you read the Gospels carefully, you see from the way he interacted with people, the parables he told, and the examples he set that he was certainly sound of mind.
And so Lewis concludes that Christ was exactly who he claimed to be — the Son of God.
The book shook me to the core. I definitely sided with Lewis, who, like me, had once been a strong disciple of atheism. The book certainly wasn’t the only reason I abandoned my disbelief, but it provided the spark.
I returned to the Gospels with fresh eyes. No wonder Pontius Pilate was so uneasy when Jesus stood before him. After all, Pilate was well aware that Jesus had been called God’s son. And Pilate’s own wife warned him to have nothing to do with Jesus because of a dream she’d had. Unwilling to withstand the crowd’s demands, Pilate washed his hands of the blood of “this just man.”
After Peter’s repeated denials in the courtyard, Jesus turned and looked at him. Many think the expression in those eyes would have been angry, but I would say not. As someone who denounced Christ for so many years, I can attest that those eyes were filled with sadness — and mercy.
Christ stands ready to forgive anything. Even denial. Even mocking. Even promoting an anti-Christian view of the world.
And maybe even the pathetic attempts of one philosophy teacher long ago to discredit and dethrone him.
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