Scripture Characters
XV THE FRIENDSHIP OF PETER AND
JOHN PART II
"Then Peter, turning about, seeth the disciple whom
Jesus loved following; which also leaned on his breast at supper, and said,
Lord, which is he that betrayeth thee? Peter seeing him saith to Jesus, Lord,
and what shall this man do? Jesus saith unto him, If I will that he tarry till
I come, what is that to thee? Follow thou me." JOHN xxi. 20-22.
IT is no ordinary friendship that we are tracing, no
common-place acquaintanceship or familiarity, when we make a study of the
intimacy between Peter and John. How the friendship first arose whether from
contiguity and neighbourhood of residence, or similarity of occupation, or
community of taste, or, as we might say, mere accident and casual circumstances
it would be idle to conjecture, and not very profitable, even if it were
possible, to discover; nor need we regret much our inability to determine the
probable nature and degree of their fellowship, before they met with Jesus and
became his followers.
Afterwards, as we have seen, they had enough of
experience in common to knit them together in the closest and most confidential
union. Their common alacrity in consenting together to forsake all for Christ
and to wait upon his ministry, their common sight of his glory on the mount,
and their common participation in his agony in the garden, these formed bonds
of mutual sympathy as strong as they were strange. And a certain subdued
congeniality of temper, amid great diversities, calling forth the same kind of
rebukes on the part of their Master, as well as the same kind of lessons and
encouragements, was fitted to make them intimately and thoroughly one. The real
value of this unity may be seen most evidently, as it appears to us, First, In
what passed between them as their Masters life on earth drew towards its
close; and, Secondly, In the brief but emphatic notice of the separation
awaiting the two friends, with which, after his resurrection, the Lord wound up
his conversation with Peter concerning John.
I. The close of their Masters life brought
Peter and John very much together. As Jesus drew near to the city to eat his
last Passover, these were the two disciples whom he sent on before him to make
the needful preparation: "And he sent Peter and John, saying, Go and prepare us
the Passover that we may eat" (Luke xxii. 8). At the paschal supper itself,
when Jesus, troubled in spirit, made the melancholy announcement that one of
the twelve should betray him, amid the blank astonishment and dismay that sat
on every face, as, looking one to another, they doubted of whom he spake, we
find Peter beckoning, or making a signal, to the disciple whom Jesus loved,
that he should ask the Lord, on whose bosom he was leaning, "Lord, who it?" a
trifling incident in itself, but characteristic, the one hand, of Peters
readiness of resource, for it was quite like him to suggest the expedient that
might end the terrible suspense; and, on the other hand, indicating the footing
on which the two apostles were, and the sort of telegraphic and electric
understanding that subsisted between them: "Now there was leaning on Jesus'
bosom one of his disciples, whom Jesus loved. Simon Peter therefore beckoned to
him, that he should ask who it should be of whom he spake. He then lying on
Jesus' breast saith unto him, Lord, who is it? Jesus answered, He it is to whom
I shall give a sop, when I have dipped it. And when he had dipped the sop, he
gave it to Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon" (John xiii. 23-26).
Let us
imagine such a sympathy as this would imply, between Peter and John. Let us
conceive of the beloved disciple himself reposing on the bosom of his Master,
and drinking in his words of deep sorrow, yet of infinite love as he catches
the eye of his anxious and excited friend. A momentary suspicion flashes
through his mind, as he detects some trembling perhaps some vacillation in the
eager look. Instantly he is aroused; and taking advantage of his position and
of his Master's acknowledged partiality, he hastens to set a bursting heart at
rest, and to relieve Peter of his fears.
From the supper there is an
adjournment to the garden, where together they are found yielding to the
oppressive sorrow of the scene. And immediately thereafter, there follow in
quick succession, like the incidents in a dream, the arrest of Jesus, his
trial, his crucifixion, and his burial. And all throughout this tragedy, Peter
and John are together. If John be indeed the young man of whom Mark speaks
(xiv. 51, 52), who fled, leaving his upper garment, as he was laid hold of in
following Jesus, he soon repented and returned. For there is little doubt that
he was the individual who introduced Peter into the palace of the high priest
(John xviii. 15, 16). We gather this from the style and manner of the
description, compared with this evangelist's usual way of indicating himself.
What interest or influence he had with the high priest's officers, or how he
was known to the high priest himself, does not appear. It is supposed by some,
that Zebedee, his father, was a man of wealth and consideration, and that,
personally, John held a somewhat distinguished rank or position among his
countrymen. But be that as it may, he has evidently the means of entering
himself into the hall where his Master is to be tried, and of procuring
admission for his companion and friend (John xviii. 15, 16).
Ah! Little
did John think when he executed for Peter this commission of common civility
that the issue was to be so disastrous and deplorable. But the trial goes on.
Peter is betrayed into the cowardly sin of denying his Master; and John, who
was instrumental unadvisedly in introducing him to the scene of temptation, has
the deep mortification of witnessing his friend's disgrace. But he catches a
glimpse of what is in the eye of the Lord, as he turns and looks upon Peter.
And he sees, also, the tears ready gushing, as he goes out, from the smitten
penitent's eye. Shall we say that he makes haste to follow him? Or rather, as
we shortly after find John at the foot of the cross, receiving the charge
which, in the midst of all his own agony, the son of Mary committed to him,
"Mother, behold thy son; Son, behold thy mother," shall we say, that after
leading that mother to his own house, and soothing her poignant grief as best
he might, he bethought himself of his fallen friend, and went in search of
Peter, whom he had seen, under the piercing yet melting glance of their common
Master's eye, going out to weep bitterly? Certain it is that we find Peter and
John together on the morning of the resurrection (John xx.1, 2). And they are
together, as it would seem, not casually or suddenly, but by design and on set
purpose. Have they been together all the time, since their Lord was laid in his
silent tomb? And how have they been spending that dismal interval? Christian
friendship! How precious art thou! When the Saviour is in the grave, and Peter,
disconsolate and despairing, is brooding over his base treachery and that last
look of the Holy One, which, beaming with kindness, all the more on that
account cut him to the heart, thou, Divine Consolation! Thou bringest to him
one dearer than a brother; younger in years, but how tender in sympathy! It is
John; who amid the overwhelming sorrow of that hour with the grief of
witnessing the cruel torture of Him who loved him full in his bosom, and upon
his hands the care of her who was now to be his mother, as she had been the
mother of his Lord has yet leisure to remember the claims of brotherly
affection, and to seek out and console his fallen but much loved friend.
We might here give imagination the reins; but we forbear. The sacred
history has wrapt in deep and unbroken gloom the period that intervened between
the burial and the resurrection of the Lord; nor is it for us to break the
silence of these nights and that day, when it might seem as if all creation
were hushed in intense expectancy till it should be seen whether Heaven or Hell
had gained the victory, whether the sacrifice so marvellously offered would
prove fruitless, or would win acceptance and salvation. But the fact that,
during that awful pause, John was with Peter, and that they were found together
on the third morning, is in itself enough it speaks volumes. What might be
their converse, who can guess? "We did trust" they might be sadly saying one
another, "that it was he that should have redeemed Israel." But he is gone, -
it may be for ever; and all seems to be lost. Hope is withered, and, for our
consolation, memory is all that now remains; - memory, John, of that last
endearment at the supper; in Peter, that last offence at the trial. And yet,
friendship blend the two. The bosom on which John leaned; the eye that looked
upon Peter, are now common in the retrospect to both. They mourn, in their sad
bereavement and bitter penitence, together.
And now the morning is
come. The dreary Sabbath is over, and the first day of the week begins to dawn.
The friends are together still, when the strange tidings reach them of the
women having gone to the tomb and found it empty, and having received a message
from angels. Together the two disciples rush, with eager feet, to verify the
news. The youthful John outstrips his partner in the race, and is first at the
empty sepulchre; where he pauses to gaze, and wonder, and mourn. The more
impetuous Peter, arriving breathless at the spot, waits not a moment to
reconnoitre outside, but promptly leads the way within. John as promptly
follows. And in a moment the minds of both are opened to an apprehension of the
marvellous event that has occurred. Together they own the Scriptures fulfilled,
as the light of the glorious doctrine of the resurrection flashes
simultaneously on their understandings; and, wondering at their former
blindness, they encourage one another in the belief that the promised Christ
must indeed rise again from the dead, and that this Jesus, their beloved
Master, is the Christ. The whole scene is as characteristic as it is
interesting and instructive (John xx. 1-10).
Little more remains to be
added on the subject of this friendship between Peter and John. That it was
prolonged into their future lives and ministries, after the Church began to be
formed, is sufficiently apparent from the history in the book of Acts. Thus, we
read of Peter and John going up together to the temple, on the occasion on
which the lame man was healed, "at the gate which is called Beautiful" (Acts
iii. 1-11). Again, we see them cast into prison together, and then brought
before the council to be examined. And we have their joint reply, so nobly
given when they were "commanded not to speak at all nor teach in the name of
Jesus:" "Peter and John answered and said unto them, Whether it be right in the
sight of God to hearken unto you more than unto God, judge ye" (Acts iv. 19).
We find them, also, associated together in a mission to the Church in Samaria
which Philip was instrumental in planting: "Now when the apostles which were at
Jerusalem heard that Samaria had received the word of God, they sent unto them
Peter and John: who, when they were come down, prayed for them that they might
receive the Holy Ghost" (Acts viii. 14, 15). And finally, along with James,
"Cephas and John" are mentioned by Paul as joint pillars in the church at
Jerusalem; and, in that character, giving to him and Barnabas the right hand of
fellowship (Gal ii. 9).
Thus throughout, to the very last, we have
incidental traces, slight in themselves, but significant when taken together,
of the close association and constant personal intimacy of these two holy men.
And we feel justified therefore, on the whole, and upon scriptural grounds, in
the view which we have been giving of this close and blessed friendship between
Peter and John.
II. But we cannot
conclude without adverting, in connection with this subject of the friendship
of these apostles, to a few points brought out in the concluding chapter of
John's Gospel; and especially to what is there recorded as having passed
between Peter and his Master, relative to the fate of John.
The very
writing of this chapter, it would almost seem, is to be regarded as a tribute
of friendship, on the part of John, to the memory of his beloved and now
departed comrade, Peter. It was, as is generally believed, the last task on
earth of the disciple whom Jesus loved, to prepare his Gospel. Moved and
inspired by the Holy Ghost, he gave to this work the latest days of his
lengthened life. And what more congenial occupation could he have had assigned
to him? He had addressed to the Church at large, as well as to individuals,
letters of warning, affectionate and faithful, against the deadly errors of
that time, when men were already beginning to deny, or explain away, all the
reality of the atonement made by Christ, and the renewal wrought by the Spirit.
He had put on record the revelation of all things about to happen on the earth,
down to the era of the Lord's appearing in glory, and the establishment of his
glorious heavenly kingdom. And now, on the near verge of the grave, with his
foot on the very confines of the eternal world, he is summoned to live over
again, in inspired recollection, and in minute detail, those three youthful
years of his personal fellowship with the Lord, which to him are worth
uncounted ages. Blessed toil! Nay, rather rapturous enjoyment! How does he
throw his whole soul into it, and linger over it, feeling as if he never could
have done!
Notice, for instance, the close of the 20th chapter: "And
many other signs truly did Jesus in the presence his disciples, which are not
written in this book: but these are written, that ye might believe that Jesus
is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing ye might have life through
his name" (ver. 30, 31). Plainly, the venerable writer was then laying down his
pen. It is the formal finishing of the book. But he cannot tear himself away;
he cannot bring himself to say, "Farewell." There are more last words to utter;
there is a postscript - an appendix - a supplement to add. He resumes the pen;
he has omitted something of interest and value; he has to rear a monument more
durable than brass, not only to his Master, but to his Master's friend, and his
own.
For who can doubt that it is partly, at least, as a memorial of
Peter that this extra matter in the 21st chapter is given? The whole chapter is
about Peter. And with what exquisite tact and taste, with what tenderness and
what truth, is Peter sketched to us in this affecting picture! We see him
standing beside John on the vessel's side, when, at the command of Jesus, as
yet unrecognised, the net is let down, and the multitude of fishes taken. John
is the first to discern who this seeming stranger is; and his eager whisper to
Simon Peter, "It is the Lord," is characteristic of the disciple whom Jesus
loved. Equally characteristic is it of Peter himself that he is the first to
act on the hint, and impetuously cast himself into the sea, in his haste to
meet the Master whom he had so recently denied.
Ah! The blessedness of
that bitter weeping! How is it turned into joy! But for those gracious,
relenting drops, of which the Lord's eye, as he turned and looked on him,
unlocked the fountain and source within, Peter must have shrunk from
encountering him again. He must have fled, like Judas, to despair and suicide.
But now there is an attraction in the very Saviour whom he has pierced, drawing
Peter towards him. He hastens to embrace him: and well is his haste
recompensed! In the interview that follows, the Lord addresses himself to Peter
alone. All the past is buried in oblivion; forgiveness begets love; much
forgiveness, much love. The fallen apostle is restored; the shepherd's crook is
again put into his hand, the martyr's crown is suspended over his head. And it
is John who tells it all! ( xxi.15-18.)
Is it not fitly reserved for
John to tell it? He, as well as the other evangelists, is to record his
friend's fall; but he alone is to have the satisfaction of recording his
friend's recovery. Was ever monument to friendship more precious? Was ever
friendship more worthy of such a monument? Nor is it, we may well believe,
without emotion, that in winding up his whole history once more, John notices
proof of affectionate interest which Peter gave, when, in the very midst of
such close personal dealing of the Lord with his conscience, and such peculiar
experience as might have engrossed his whole soul, he yet found leisure to
remember his friend. Peter might have been excused had he thought merely of
himself in such a crisis. But that was not his nature. The beloved disciple is
beside him; and, as if remembering and returning the kind service rendered on
the night when during supper John questioned the Lord at Peter's suggestion
"Who is it, Lord?" Peter now, on his part, asks the Lord concerning John, "And
what shall this man do?" What is to become of him? He has been lovely and
pleasant to me in life; are we, in death, to be divided? Thou hast engaged me
to love thee, and thou knowest that I love thee, good cause hast thou given me
to love thee, and none but thee. Thou hast assigned to me my work: and most
welcome work it is, to feed thy lambs, to feed thy sheep. Thou hast warned me
of the death by which I am to glorify God; and though not now so foolhardy as
once I was, and so ready to volunteer myself for martyrdom, I shrink not from
what thou appointest. Thou hast given me that command, including all promises
and all grace, "Follow me;" and, Lord, thou wilt enable me to follow thee even
unto death, and through death to glory. But what of my friend my more than
brother, whom thou, Lord, lovest, who leaned on thy breast at supper? Following
thee, must I be parted from him? We were together when thou didst call us, at
the first, to forsake all and follow thee; and together we left all the world
behind, that we might bear thee company, and wait on thee. We have been
together, he and I, ever since; and on that dreary day when thou wast in the
tomb, and I, a miserable sinner, had seen, as I imagined, the last of thee, and
seen thee in that look of thine that cut me to the heart, what, oh! What would
have become of me, but for his sympathy with me in my unutterable sorrow? And
now, can I be blamed for wanton or impertinent curiosity when I ask thee to
satisfy me as to the future course of that friendship which hitherto has run so
deep? It is not that I hesitate about following thee, it is not that I draw
back even from a cross like thine own; but this man, good Lord, what of him?
One word to alleviate the anxiety of friendship - of such a friendship; and I
am ready - I am thine for ever!'
Can it possibly be an answer of stern
reproof that the Lord, in such circumstances, returns to such an inquiry on the
part of one with whom he has been dealing so closely and so graciously, "If I
will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? Follow thou me?" Nay; we
confidently say it is not, - it cannot be so intended. We cannot believe that
the Lord designs to upbraid Peter, or take otherwise than in good part the
affectionate solitude of his friendly interest in John.
Some, indeed,
would have this to be a rebuke of Peter's unwarrantable curiosity, a check
given to his inquisitive turn of mind, which made him eager to learn the
appointed destiny of a brother, instead of acquiescing in what the Lord had
told him respecting his own. And in this view many edifying practical lessons
may, no doubt, be deduced respecting the sin and folly of prying, or seeking to
pry, into our neighbours' circumstances and affairs, and the propriety of
attending to what more nearly concerns ourselves.
But there is surely
more in this reply of our Lord than a mere censuring of his disciple's
inquisitiveness. No doubt, it must have been sufficiently irritating, if at a
time when his Master was dealing so very graciously, and so very pointedly,
with his own soul, Peter manifested the spirit of a mere busybody in other
men's matters. Still, anything like even the appearance of severity, after so
tender a scene, jars on the feelings which that scene awakens. Peter's question
respecting John may have been dictated by some other and better motive than
idle curiosity; and the answer of the Lord may have been designed to convey,
not only a hint against the indulgence of such a temper, but a weightier and
deeper lesson. It was as a warm friend, and not a frivolous, gossiping
interloper, that Peter was moved, at such a crisis, to think of John so
affectionately, and to inquire so earnestly, "What shall this man do?" And it
was this friendly interest in a brother's fate that the Lord meant, not to
suppress, but to turn into a right and comfortable channel, when he gave the
somewhat abrupt and oracular response, "If I will that he tarry till I come,
what is that to thee? Follow thou me" (xxi. 22).
What is there, then,
in this reply? Upon what, at the time, would the full heart of Peter, eagerly
and intently fasten? The saying, as we are told, gave rise to a vague rumour
that John was not to die: "Then went this saying abroad among the brethren that
that disciple should not die." That disciple himself is anxious to show that
what Jesus said to Peter warranted no such conclusion: "Yet Jesus said not to
him, He shall not die; but, If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that
to thee?" (xxi. 23). What the Lord's reply to Peter did not necessarily mean,
John carefully explains. What it did mean, he does not say. One thing, however,
is clear; it must, at all events, have conveyed to Peter the impression, that
he was to leave John behind him on the earth. Whether his beloved friend was to
die at last or not, he was to be exempt from such a premature and violent death
as his own was to be. John, it seems, is to live on after I am gone, and
in a good old age his days on earth are to close tranquilly, the current of his
life flowing calmly into the ocean of eternity, either through the peaceful
outlet of a natural decease or through the wide-opening portals of the gate
that is to admit the King of glory.' Then be it so. Peter does not envy his
friend, or grudge him any higher favour which the Lord may have destined for
him. He is content, it is nothing to him; he follows Jesus.
What!
Nothing to him who had but now so anxiously put the question, "What of this
man?" Nothing, to be parted so cruelly from his friend whom he must leave
behind, perhaps till his Master's coming again? No; for in that coming he,
following Jesus, has a share. Peter may be snatched away by a bloody death
before his time, John may tarry till Jesus come. But what of that? It is but a
little while, and "he that shall come will come, and will not tarry." Hush
then, Peter, thy earnest questioning concerning thy friend, who is to be spared
when thou art taken. And thou, John, beloved disciple of thy Lord, be
satisfied, if it so please him, to tarry till he come; yes, even when thy weary
head would fain repose itself again on thy Master's bosom. It will be all one
to thy friend and to thee, very soon. Peter has followed Jesus through
martyrdom into his rest; thou tarriest, if he will, till he come. But all will
be well then. Thus the parting of Christian friends may lose its sharpest pang.
They part to meet again, if not sooner, at least when the Lord comes. The dying
believer may be willing to depart; the survivor may be contented to remain, for
the time is short, the world is passing away, and the Lord is at hand.
Am I summoned, like Peter, to follow Jesus into the unseen and
undiscovered country whence no traveller ever returns? Do I leave a beloved
John behind? Still, to depart and to be with Christ is far better - to be
absent from the body and present with the Lord. Precious in the sight of the
Lord is the death of his saints. Nor need the fate of the friend to whom I bid
adieu concern me much. How long he is to tarry on this cold earth when I am
gone is really nothing to me; no, not even should it be appointed to him to
tarry till the Lord come. For oh! Rapturous anticipation! The Lord will come;
and they that are his shall appear with him in glory; and the living, that are
tarrying for him shall be changed; and all shall be for ever with the Lord!
Then, let me be willing to follow Jesus, however cruel may be the death by
which I am to glorify God, and however dear the friend from whom I am
constrained to part. Enough for me to know, that, let my death be ever so
cruel, it is but following Jesus still, following him through his tribulation
into his glory; and let my friend tarry ever so long behind me, it can at the
utmost be no longer than till Jesus come.
Am I called, on the other
hand, like John, to witness the removal of some dear brother or venerable
father in the Lord, and to tarry behind alone? Am I desolate and lonely,
feeling as if life had now no object and this world no charm? Let me first call
to remembrance, that "to me to live is Christ." Whosoever may be taken from me,
the desire of my eyes, the delight of my soul, still all is not a blank to me.
I have something left to live for; "To me to live is Christ." Then, as to those
who fall asleep in Jesus, let me not ignorantly sorrow, even as others that
have no hope. For if I believe that Jesus died and rose again, let me believe
also that them which sleep in Jesus God will bring with him. Long time I may
have to tarry after my best and dearest ones are gone. He whom they have
followed through painful deaths, and whom I still seek to follow in my weary
life, may will that I tarry till he come. Be it so. For he himself says,
"Surely I come quickly: Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus."
SCRIPTURE CHARACTERS BY ROBERT S. CANDLISH, D.D., FREE
ST. GEORGE'S, EDINBURGH.
LONDON: T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW
EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.
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