Good morning. Please turn in your Bibles to Luke 22, and put a bookmark in John 21.
Raise your hand if you have a junk drawer in your kitchen. What do you have in the junk drawer? Lids to containers you can’t find? The little hex wrench that came with a piece of furniture? Batteries. Oh yes. Batteries.
Now, raise your hand if you have a junk closet? A junk room? A junk corner of the garage? A junk shed?
Odds are you probably have piles of tools or furniture or lawn equipment that was once sparkly and new, but is now rusted or scratched, missing parts and knobs and handles. It’s on your list to fix. But you’ve got to find the right piece or talk to someone who knows. But you never get to it. And so it just sits there. Eventually, it’s just time to get rid of it.
That’s usually what happens to broken things. We purge them from our lives. They are no longer of any use to us. We throw them out. We put them in a yard sale. Or we put them in a drawer or lock them in a closet or shove them into a corner so that they don’t disrupt the decorating vibe we’re going for in the rest of the house.
Now, I don’t want you raising your hand for this one. But in your heart of hearts, how many of you feel like that is what your family and friends have done to you in your seasons of brokenness?
And again, I don’t want you raising your hand. But how many of you, in your heart of hearts, are afraid that that is what the family of God—the church—would do with you if they ever found out about your brokenness?
How many of you, in your heart of hearts, are terrified that that is what Jesus has already done with you because of your brokenness?
As we continue our series called “Blessed, Broken, Given,” we continue our journey through the gospel of Luke, looking at each time Jesus handled bread in the gospel of Luke. The first time is when Jesus fed the five thousand, he blessed the bread, broke the bread, and gave the bread.
This morning, we are going to look at the last night Jesus was with His disciples before He was crucified. But I don’t want to just look at the scene we call the Lord’s supper. I want to look at what happened immediately after that.
Luke 22, beginning in verse 19:
19 And he took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” 20 And likewise the cup after they had eaten, saying, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.[
The occasion here is Passover, the feast which commemorates God’s rescue of Israel from Egypt and God’s judgment of evil. In short, Passover is when God dealt with sin and evil. God delivered His people by providing a covering of blood over their sins. That makes this passage the perfect place to talk about what Jesus does with our own brokenness.
The problem is, the disciples didn’t want to talk about their brokenness. It’s almost comical that at this point, after Jesus has said, this is my body, broken for you; after, according to John’s gospel, Jesus, the Messiah, the Son of God, bent down and washed the feet of each disciple that was in that room, including Judas’s, verse 24 says,
24 A dispute also arose among them, as to which of them was to be regarded as the greatest.
Are you kidding me? Jesus has JUST NOW SAID, “One of you sitting at the table, sharing in my broken body, is going to betray me.” Can you imagine? These guys are falling over each other to try to prove to Jesus that it couldn’t be them, because they are the greatest of his followers.
That’s when Jesus turns to Peter and says, (verse 31)
31 “Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you,[d] that he might sift you like wheat, 32 but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers.”
There’s three ways we talk about brokenness today, and we see the first one here.
First, we are broken because we are frail.
Something that isn’t immediately obvious in this passage, unless you know Greek, is that Jesus isn’t just talking about Simon Peter when He says that Satan has demanded permission to have you, that he might sift you like wheat.” In this verse, the “you” is plural. If Jesus spoke Southern, he would have said y’all.
Clarence Jordan was a New Testament Greek scholar from Americus, Georgia, who died in 1969. His life’s work was to translate the gospels and the book of Acts into Southern vernacular. Here’s how he translated Luke 22:31 in The Cotton Patch Version of Luke:
Simon! Simon! look here! Satan begged to run all of y’all through the combine like heads of wheat.
Jesus knows us better than we know ourselves. While we are all comparing our resumes to see which of us is the best Christian, Jesus is keenly aware of our limitations and our weaknesses. He knew that within hours, all of these disciples who were arguing amongst themselves about who was the greatest would run away from the garden in all directions. One of them would betray Him. One of them would deny Him.
Second, we are broken because we have a foe
Maybe you’re thinking like Peter was—how could this happen? Peter’s like, “No way, Lord. I’m ready to go with you to prison and death.”
Listen. Not only does Jesus understand human nature, but He also understands the spiritual battle that is going on behind the scenes. He doesn’t say, “Simon, look—things are about to get crazy. You guys are tired, emotionally drained, and there’s a really good chance that y’all are gonna freak out when you see the soldiers coming into the Garden of Gethsemane. No. Jesus says, “Behold—Satan demanded to have you.”
There is a personal enemy that desires you. There is a spiritual force of evil that wants to steal, kill, destroy, tempt, devour, hinder, outwit, afflict, harass and deceive you.
He doesn’t care how he breaks you. He just wants to take you
It can be through failure or success.
It can be through shattered dreams or fulfilled desires.
It can be through shame so deep you don’t feel like you can approach God, or pride so great that you don’t feel like you need to.
But make no mistake. There is an enemy of the soul. His name is Satan. He hates your guts, and he is begging for permission to sift you like wheat.
Do you know how wheat was sifted in Jesus’ day? It was shaken violently, and in the process all the dirt and impurities that clung to the wheat even through the threshing process would be separated, and what would be left was the good, usable grain.
Some of you know what it means to be shaken violently. This week I read an amazing book by a female Bible teacher named Lysa Terkeurst, called It’s Not Supposed to Be This Way. And in it, Lysa writes about the day she found out her husband was having an affair.
In the same year that she was adjusting to living by herself while she and her husband were separated, she received a breast cancer diagnosis.
What was remarkable about this book is that she was writing about these events as they were unfolding. This wasn’t something she was reflecting back on years after the event. Listen to how she describes things in one chapter. While you are listening, keep in mind this definition of being sifted. She writes,
I think it’s important to note at this point in the book that I don’t know when or how my circumstances are going to be restored…
During this part of the journey, Art doesn’t live with me. There’s not one part of me that likes this or wants this. But this is reality.
I come home many nights to a very quiet house. Our kids are grown and they visit often, but then, when family get togethers end, everyone leaves. Including Art. I can’t describe the pain of watching him walk down our front sidewalk and then drive away. Our house used to be crazy-loud and full of activity but is now as still as an evacuated town. The thrashing winds of the storm are gone, but the consequences make it impossible to return to something that feels normal. We make brief visits to normal, but there’s a lot of emotional debris to which we must tend. Little by little, we make progress in the two-steps-forward-one-step-back kind of way. But when the lights go out, I’m alone.
A soul-shaking silence and disappointment about my current situation is what goes to bed with me in the dark. And it’s what’s there with me in the middle of the night when I’ve had another nightmare. And this reality is still there each time my eyes open to the next new day. And the next. And the next.
And in your most private moments you want to scream words you don’t use around your Bible friends at the unfairness of it all. You, too, have memories that still hurt. Realities that make you swallow back tears. Heartache that pumps sorrow through your veins. Sufferings that seem forever long. And you’re disappointed that today you aren’t living the promises of God you’ve begged to come to pass. You’re tired of this disappointment lingering a little too long and being a bit too hard.
When things stay hard for a long time, every day feels more like walking on a tightrope than on a solid and secure road into the future.
Can I say a word to my brothers here? And maybe there’s some women who have thought about greener pastures or giving your affections to a man that doesn’t belong to you. But I want to speak a word to my brothers, who maybe have let a little innocent flirting go too far. Or have thought about how someone else makes you feel the way your wife used to make you feel.
Stop. Run away. Get out. Talk to someone. Talk to me. I promise I will not judge you. But I will do everything I can to prevent you from making your wife and your children experience the pain that Lysa writes about in this book. Because lots of us are like Simon Peter. “No, Lord, I’m super Christian. I’m the best of all the disciples. I’m ready to go with you to prison and death.”
We underestimate the enemy of our souls, and we never think about how its not just us that are going to be sifted and shaken and turned upside down because of our selfish, stupid choices.
Your wife, your children will be sifted, too. And it won’t be their fault. It will be yours.
Which brings us to the third way we are brokenness. We are broken because of our failure.
Look again at verse 32. I pointed out to you that the “you’s” in verse 31 are plural. Jesus says, Satan wants all of y’all- to sift y’all like wheat.
But in verse 32, the you is singular. Jesus is talking just to Peter:
32 but I have prayed for you, [Peter] that your faith may not fail. And when you [Peter] have turned again, strengthen your brothers.”
Notice Jesus does not say, “I won’t let this happen to you.” Instead, he says, “I have prayed for you, that your faith will not fail.”
Didn’t Jesus know already that Peter’s faith was going to fail? Of course He did. He says so in the very next verse:
34 Jesus[f] said, “I tell you, Peter, the rooster will not crow this day, until you deny three times that you know me.”
And we all know what happens over the course of the next few hours. They go to the garden. Jesus says, “Watch and pray.” Jesus goes about a stone’s throw away. He prays, his agony so intense that he sweats blood. He comes back, and the man who an hour before had said “Lord, I’ll go with you to prison and death” was leaned up against an olive tree, fast asleep.
Then Judas comes. He kisses Jesus. The soldiers advance. Peter strikes out with his sword and cuts of the ear of the servant Malchus. Jesus stoops down, picks up the ear, and puts it back on the dude’s head.
Jesus is led away. And to his credit, at this point Peter is still following, from a distance. Peter is warming himself at a fire in the courtyard. A young girl—a servant—sees Peter and says, “This man was with him.”
“Nope. Never met him” says Peter.
Another sees Peter.”You’re one of them,” he says.
Naw, man. That ain’t me.
Verse 59 says that a whole hour passes. Peter has an entire hour to think about what he would say if he had one more chance. He has to have thought about Jesus’ last words to him. Surely, he thinks to himself, “Twice. I’ve only denied him twice, He said three times. The rooster hasn’t crowed yet. There’s still time. I can make this right. I can still be super Christian. He can still count on me. It won’t happen again. It won’t happen again. This time I’ll be strong. This time I’ll…”
And a voice cuts through the smoke from the other side of the fire:
“Certainly this man also was with him, for he too is a Galileean”
And Peter uses his third chance to say, “Man, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
And the rooster crowed. And (here’s a detail only recorded in Luke’s gospel) verse 61:
And the Lord turned and looked at Peter.
What must it have been like to get that look from Jesus. There was hurt on both sides of that look. There was deep, soul crushing sadness on both sides of that look.
On Jesus’ end, I believe that look said, “Oh, Peter. I wish you had believed me. When I told you this was coming, oh, how I wish you had trusted Me. If only you had seen this coming, then you wouldn’t have been so devastated when it came. I am so sorry that you are so broken.”
And Peter? Verse 62 says, “He went out and wept bitterly.” Maybe he was thinking—the junk drawer. That’s all I’m good for. The trash heap. “Even if everyone else falls away, I will never fall away.” What a pathetic joke. What am I good for now? The yard sale. The recycling bin. A dark corner of the garage where no one will see how broken I am.”
When we come up short, when we miss the mark, when we fail what is required of us in a given situation or relationship, we come face to face with our brokenness.
What can Jesus do with our brokenness? In order to answer that, let’s look at what Jesus has already done with our brokenness.
It’s easy for us to forget that before the rooster crowed, before the fire in the courtyard, before the sleeping in the garden, before the bravado of Peter’s empty promise, there was Jesus. Standing at the head of the table. Taking the loaf, tearing it in two, saying, “This is my body, broken for you.”
It was the night of Passover. The night when Jews remembered their deliverance from Egyptian slavery. When they remembered the blood of the lamb that was painted on the doorpost of every Hebrew house in Egypt. And when the destroying angel went through the streets of Egypt, when He saw the blood on the doorpost, he would Pass Over that house, because the people inside were
Under.
The Blood.
Of the Lamb.
When Jesus stood at the head of that table, He knew Judas was going to betray him. He knew Peter was going to deny him. He knew Lysa Terkeurst’s husband was going to cheat on her. He knew the struggles you were going to have with alcohol, with depression, with pornography, with gossip, with racism. He knew.
And he didn’t say “This is my body, but it is only broken for people who have never felt broken themselves.” He didn’t say, “This is my blood, but it is only shed for people who have it all together.”
Jesus knew every struggle that every one of us has ever had and ever will have, and still he said, “This is My body, broken for you.”
When we deal with the brokenness of our sin, we can experience the blessing of forgiveness.
We don’t find it when we try to jockey for position, convincing each other that we are all that. We don’t find it when we pretend Jesus doesn’t really know us. We find it when our savior looks at us from across a courtyard, and we come face to face with all of our yuck and all of our junk and all of the times we have denied our Lord.
In verse 61, the Bible says that “Peter remembered the saying of the Lord, how he had said to him, “Before the rooster crows today, you will deny me three times.”
But maybe after some time, Peter remembered what else Jesus said to him that night.
I think he remembered Jesus saying, “This is my body, given for you.”
Then, I think he remembered Jesus saying, “I have prayed for you, that your faith will not fail,”
And when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers.”
When you have turned again? Wait a minute. Jesus wasn’t surprised by my failure! Jesus knew it would happen. But He also knew that I could turn back. And when I did, I could strengthen my brothers. My test could be a testimony. My story could be for His glory! Could it be possible?
Maybe that’s why a few weeks later, Peter would jump out of the boat and swim to Jesus on the shore of the sea of Galilee. Turn to John 21. I’d like to show you what Jesus does with our brokenness.
You know the story. In John’s gospel, Peter and the disciples have gone to Galilee, and one day Peter decides to go fishing, and the other guys say, “Sounds good. Let’s go.”
They fish all night, and they catch nothing. (Side note, and maybe this is a sermon for another day, but isn’t it interesting that when there is unresolved conflict or unconfronted sin, it affects your productivity). Jesus appears on the shore. They don’t recognize Him. He calls out, “Hey children, have you caught any fish?”
These rugged fishermen, who probably HATE to be called children, call back “NO.”
Jesus tells them to throw the net on the other side of the boat.
These professional fishermen, who probably HATE to be given advice about how to fish, nevertheless obey Jesus. And the waters of the sea are suddenly churning with the fins of 153 fish. Which is an oddly specific number. John says to Peter, It’s the Lord!” And Peter jumps out of the boat and swims to Jesus.
Verse 9 says that Jesus had made a charcoal fire on the beach. Think about the last time Peter smelled the aroma of a charcoal fire. It was the night he denied Jesus three times. Now, Jesus gives him three chances to confess his love for Jesus:
15 When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Feed my lambs.” 16 He said to him a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Tend my sheep.” 17 He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. . .
19 … And after saying this he said to him, “Follow me.”
Jesus restores what is broken to service.
I want to teach you two words that you may have never heard before: Grog and Kitsumi. I know—they sound like characters from a superhero movie. But they are actually two words that are familiar to anyone who knows anything about pottery.
Let’s take the first one: Grog. I learned about this one, again, from Lysa Terkeurst’s book. She was sharing with some friends about how she felt like her life was like just a bunch of shattered pieces of pottery. And her friend, whose mother was an artist who made pottery, taught her about grog. She writes:
She told me that wise potters not only know how to form beautiful things from clay, but they also know how important it is to add some of the dust from previously broken pieces of pottery to the new clay. This type of dust is called “grog.” To get this grog, the broken pieces must be shattered to dust just right. If the dust is shattered too finely, then it won’t add any structure to the new clay. And if it’s not shattered enough, the grog will be too coarse and make the potter’s hands bleed.
But when shattered just right, the grog dust added to the new clay will enable the potter to form the clay into a larger and stronger vessel than ever before. And it can go through fires much hotter as well. Plus, when glazed these pieces end up having a much more beautiful, artistic look to them than they would have otherwise.
We sing a song about how Jesus is the potter and we are the clay. I want you to think for a minute about how Jesus uses the dust and shattered pieces from previous mistakes and failures to strengthen the person He is making you to be.
Can you look at the shattered remnants of past mistakes, previous relationships, dark seasons of your life, and see how the Lord, in His kindness, has added that to the mix of who you are today, and made you stronger and more beautiful because of them?
Jesus uses what has broken you to make you stronger.
The second word is kintsugi. Kintsugi is a Japanese word meaning “golden joinery” If you were paying attention to the countdown video, you saw a Japanese craftsman using this technique to create a beautiful work of art from broken pieces. Kintsugi is the art of joining broken pieces of pottery with a liquid resin made from powdered gold. The result is a bowl or vase that is more beautiful, more complex, and more valuable than the original piece. The new piece with golden seams became so popular among Japanese art collectors in the fifteenth century that some were even accused of purposely breaking pottery in order to repair it with gold.
That sounds like grace. Grace that takes what is broken and puts it back together in such a way that it is more beautiful and more valuable than it was before.
Jesus redeems what is broken and makes it beautiful.
When grace comes rushing in, it does not leave us broken in our sin. It heals and restores and cleanses and forgives. It makes us new in a way that is more beautiful than we could have imagined.
Grace is the gold that holds the broken pieces together.
Let Him take your broken life today. Whether you’re broken by your own failure or by the fallenness of this world, place your broken life in Jesus’s hands.
Let us pray together.
