Bible, Theology & Philosophy

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No rapture hope for Peter

The last recorded words of the Lord Jesus Christ in the Gospel of John look forward to His second coming: “If I will that he [John] remain till I come, what is that to you [Peter]?” (NKJV, John 21:23).

In spite of Peter’s denial of Jesus in the courtyard of the high priest (cf. John 18:15, 25, 26), our Lord graciously restored him to the position of leadership he had temporarily abandoned (John 21:1-19). But He also solemnly affirmed that Peter would die—probably by crucifixion: “ ‘Most assuredly, I say to you, when you were younger, you girded yourself and walked where you wished; but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird you and carry you where you do not wish.’ This He spoke, signifying by what death he [Peter] would glorify God” (John 21:18-19).

If Peter had the slightest hope of being raptured to heaven without dying, that hope was now removed (cf. 2 Pet. 1:14—“knowing that shortly I must put off my tent, just as our Lord Jesus Christ showed me”). But he asked Jesus about the destiny of his close friend and fellow-apostle, John: “But Lord, what about this man?” (John 21:21).

Jesus’ answer must have amazed Peter and many other believers: “If I will that he remain till I come, what is that to you?” (v. 22). What did Jesus mean by this statement? Did he mean that John would never die, but would experience the rapture? That is what many thought: “Then this saying went out among the brethren that this disciple [John] would not die. Yet Jesus did not say to him that he would not die, but, ‘If I will that he remain till I come, what is that to you?’” (v. 23).

Some 60 years later, the aged apostle John, probably the last survivor of the original twelve, exiled to the Isle of Patmos, penned these words at the end of the book of Revelation: “He [Jesus, cf. Rev. 1:1] who testifies to these things says, ‘Surely I am coming quickly.’ Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus!” (Rev. 22:20). John was probably praying for Jesus to take him alive to heaven—to be glorified and raptured without dying.

People find reasons to like what they like and to hate what they hate—or, more frequently, who they like or hate. In the one case, flaws are easily forgotten and dismissed while virtues are magnified. In the other, the virtues are forgotten or dismissed while the flaws are magnified. In the one case, we canonize our heroes. In the other case, we demonize our enemies.

Human nature, however, is complex. We rarely do justice to people by canonizing or demonizing them. In fact, to do either is to dehumanize them and to blind ourselves to the real effects of both depravity and grace in their lives.

Scripture certainly depicts people in all their complexity. It shows us the flaws even of heroes like Abraham, David, and Peter. It also allows us to see grace at work in the life of a Manasseh or a Nebuchadnezzar. A Christian attitude toward people will surely adopt a similar perspective.

These observations have been occupying my thoughts lately. The process began with reflection upon one of my predecessors at Central Seminary, Richard V. Clearwaters. “Doc” (as he is still known here) is one of those figures who has been both canonized and demonized. He has been a hero to some and a villain to others.

My early acquaintance with Doc came mainly through historical study. The more interesting aspects of Doc’s life tend to be those in which people got hurt—and people who have been hurt often demonize whomever they think has hurt them. The historical record contains plenty of confirmation that Doc was a skillful ecclesiastical politician. He not only knew how to get things done, but also how to get people to do what he wanted them to do, whether they liked it or not.

The army of an evil duke storms the castle gates of an ancient kingdom. With murderous zeal the raiders pillage and torch the city. Amidst the mayhem, the infant son of the kind and noble king is captured and transported to the duke’s castle where the boy is enslaved to the sadistic warden of the dungeon.

From his earliest memories the captive prince is abused. As time passes he knows only the life of a tortured slave whose days are spent toiling in the dank confines of the dungeon. He is denied proper food, shelter and clothing. He is never permitted to bathe. He sleeps on a thin pile of vermin-infested straw, his ankle shackled to a post.

The prisoners he attends verbally abuse him. The warden routinely flogs him and with sadistic glee poisons the boy’s mind to believe that all his troubles are directly traceable to the dominion of the king. Under these horrific conditions the prince’s soul shrivels and becomes a dark haunt breeding many vices.

Early one winter morning, the boy is startled awake by shouts of panic. The king has mounted a successful attack against the traitorous duke’s castle. After the duke’s army is subdued, all the boys of a certain age-range are lined up against a castle wall. The prince, with no idea who he really is, stands in the frigid air shaking, virtually naked, and filled with loathing for the conquering king. The boy is covered from head to toe in grime. His long hair is matted and snarled. His nails are grotesquely long, his lips cracked, his feet bleeding. He nurses infected wounds. He is emaciated and unspeakably repulsive.

Working his way down the line of boys, an armored knight eventually arrives at the prince. The knight grabs the boy’s grimy wrist and carefully inspects his forearm where is revealed a distinctive birth mark. With thunderous voice, the knight turns and announces: “Here he is, your Highness!” To the boy’s utter astonishment, the king’s soldiers immediately drop to one knee, bowing their heads toward him in homage. The regal king who watches the proceedings intently from atop his steed dismounts and swiftly approaches. The boy cowers against the wall, instinctively bracing for the worst. But to his further bewilderment, the king he so despises does not raise his hand to strike, but stands before him with open arms. Tears fill the strong man’s searching eyes. A look of tender compassion graces his rugged face such as the boy has never witnessed. Suddenly, the king embraces the boy and with a strong hand pulls the prince’s head to his chest and speaks lovingly into his ear: “I have at last found you, my dear lost son. Welcome home.”

Republished with permission from Dr. Reluctant. In this series, Dr.