Why do we marvel? Meditations on Acts 3

That sense of marveling is common when we encounter things we don’t expect, and sometimes when we see things we can’t believe. Like the last painting you saw with ridiculously beautiful colors, or the gymnast you saw do things with her body that you didn’t think possible. I recall sitting with family recently, as we watched some of the best ice skaters in the world do their routines—and I marveled that someone could launch themselves in the air with such grace, and land with the fluidity of an artist’s brush stroke. Remarkable things often make us marvel, because we can hardly believe what we have seen or heard. While we may not want to believe it at the moment, whether it’s the portrait of a great artist, or the grace of a dancer, or the speed and strength of an athlete, our marveling is often a reflection of ourselves.

When I see a power lifter throw ridiculous amounts of weight over his head, I am incredulous, because I know I can’t do that… and because I can’t do that, I assume others can’t do it, either. When an artist paints a lovely landscape, I marvel, because I know I can’t do that, either… and it seems incredible that someone else can. I marvel, because my eyes are normally on myself, worshipping myself, and esteeming myself as an idol. And when my eyes get torn away from myself, the ridiculousness of my idolatry is obvious—why in the world would I ever think that I, in my sinful weakness, should be a measure of anything? Why would I be surprised to find things in God’s creation far more sublime than I? Only because I have forgotten the magnificence and glory of God, who truly is the measure of all things.

In the reading from Acts, Peter and John encounter a beggar, lame from birth. His lot in life was to be placed at the entrance of the Temple, and beg for money so that he might eat that day. Lots of people knew him—they passed him often on their way to the Temple. Peter paused as he went through that gate, and looked at him. Noticing that the beggar was not paying much attention, he called to him, and insisted that the beggar pause and look at him. In that moment, Peter used the power given Him by Christ through the Holy Spirit, to heal him. It was an astonishing moment, and the people who had passed by this beggar all the years of his miserable life, now saw him leaping and dancing and praising God for his restoration. I bet you and I would marvel, too, and for the same reason—with our eyes firmly on ourselves, we know we don’t have power to do such things, and our delusions of self idolatry are stripped bare. Something greater than ourselves is at work before our eyes.

And that’s what Peter and John have to explain to the marveling people. First they ask why they are marveling in the first place—a rhetorical question, designed to shake them out of themselves, and to get them to pay attention to the real actor at work in their midst. Next, they correct the crowd’s mistaken assumption, that somehow either of them has this power within themselves—Peter and John do not present themselves as new idols to the people, as if to take the place of their self idolatry. Rather, Peter guides them to Jesus, who is the One at work in the Apostles—Peter never points to himself, or glorifies himself, but only and always sets forth Christ. Instead of giving the people another worthless idol, he directs their eyes to the Crucified and Risen Christ, who is God Almighty—the One for Whom nothing is difficult, nothing out of reach.

While the healing of the lame man was certainly a great work of God in the presence of the people, such healing of the flesh is small potatoes in the sight of God. The sinful flesh we all dwell in is destined for the grave, and whether He heals us of today’s infirmity or not, we’re still doing to die. The real work He wants to show us, is how He conquered death and the grave, and cures that evil poison which courses through our veins. He wants to show us His own Beloved Son, who took on our flesh, and in our place suffered the curse of sin for all people, of all time, and all places. Through His death and resurrection, He has turned the tables on the evil one, cast down Satan our accurser out of heaven, and reconciled us to our Holy God. Jesus has done the real work that God wants us to see and believe, because He knows that as we look at ourselves, we can only despair in the face of death. On our own, of our own power, we cannot escape the grave, nor the hell which lies beyond it. But through Jesus and His magnificent sacrifice, we have peace with God, and the Kingdom of Heaven awaits us beyond that same grave. By faith in the Son of God, the grave is no longer a portal to hell, but simply a passage from death to life, together with Jesus forever. Death and the grave have lost their sting—they are no longer to be feared. Jesus has defeated them, just as He defeated the evil one.

Does Jesus work wonders among the people, even today? Indeed! In every age of the Church, we have seen miraculous works of God. Through the power of prayer, the sick have been healed, and those on death’s door restored to life. Through the annals of Church History, the stories of the saints (which are only the tip of the iceberg,) and the experiences of Christians everywhere, we know that our God is alive, and works wonders of all sorts and kinds. But the great wonder that He is always guiding us toward, is His work of forgiveness, eternal life, and salvation, accomplished through Jesus Christ. That resurrection of dead sinners by grace through faith in the Son of God, is the greatest work we could be witness to—our God, triumphant over death and hell, saving us forever.

And why should we marvel? We know our Lord Jesus Christ to be alive, and at work amongst His people. He is alive, and thus we live, forevermore in Him. Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed—Alleluia!