Psalm 138 1 Peter 5:1-11 John 18:12-27
Why does God allow us to fail?
Thomas Cranmer has been called the most cautious, even indecisive of Reformers. His critics accuse him of years of hypocrisy during the reigns of Henry VIII, Edward VI, and Mary I, (not to forget the nine day reign of Lady Jane Grey) some claiming that he was opportunistic or driven by political survival rather than steadfast conviction.
Historian Jasper Ridley, in his biography Thomas Cranmer, emphasized Cranmer’s vacillation and tendency to conform to the monarch’s wishes, particularly under Henry VIII. Indeed, his total capitulation regarding his convictions concerning the Six Articles is particularly hard to understand. Ridley describes him as someone who frequently compromised his principles to maintain his position and influence. This interpretation views Cranmer as a cowardly figure, suggesting that he lacked the resolve shown by other reformers of his time, especially during moments when he recanted under pressure.
Similarly, Diarmaid MacCulloch, in his comprehensive biography Thomas Cranmer: A Life, explores Cranmer’s complicated character and acknowledges his moments of timidity, especially under Mary I when he recanted his Protestant beliefs before ultimately reaffirming them at and during his final trial and execution. However, MacCulloch’s analysis is more nuanced, examining the tensions Cranmer faced as a man of his time, caught between faith, political obligation, and survival. The criticisms generally stem from moments like Cranmer’s vacillation on key doctrinal matters or his failure to assert his beliefs against royal authority.
However, Thomas Cranmer must be understood against the background of his belief in the supremacy of the monarchy. Rightly or wrongly, Cranmer held a strong theological conviction in the divine authority of kings, which shaped his actions and decisions throughout his career. His commitment to royal supremacy was both religious and political, and it fundamentally guided his approach to reform and obedience within the Church of England. Cranmer believed that the king was divinely appointed to govern both the church and state, a belief reinforced by the political climate following Henry VIII’s break with Rome.
I realise that this is along introduction to this talk, but in the light of Cranmer’s failures, and Peter’s failure in our Gospel passage for today, I would like us to consider this question: Why does God allow his servants to fail? With all the pain and anguish that goes along with failure…why does he allow it? Has he not promised to place his Spirit within us and to cause us to walk in his statutes and to keep his commandments and to do them? (Ezekiel 36:27) Has he not repeatedly promised strength and boldness to his followers?
In our Gospel passage, we have been given front row seats to watch the failure of a man others would later call one of the Pillars of the Early Church. John’s record of Peter’s denials begin with our Lord’s willing surrender to his captors. If I am correct in assuming that the falling over backwards of the soldiers was a show of divine power, then I believe it is feasible that Jesus was once again providing his disciples with an acted parable in which he demonstrated that his arrest was completely voluntary. He could have appealed to his Father who would have immediately sent him more than twelve legions of angels. (Matthew 26:53) But without the arrest, the Scriptures would not be fulfilled, the cup given to Jesus would not have been drained, and his substitutionary death would not have happened.
So, the lesson for the disciples and, indeed for us, is that even though God is all powerful to help us in times of distress, there are times when his aid is withheld or restrained to fulfil a higher purpose…a purpose, mark you, that may very well be hidden from us at the time. Sadly, it certainly seems obvious from their different reactions that the purpose of his arrest, trial, and execution was totally lost on the disciples.
After the arrest, Jesus was first taken to a man by the name of Annas, one of the most influential and powerful Jewish leaders at the time. He had held the high priesthood from AD 6 to AD 15 when he was deposed by the Roman governor Valerius Gratus who wanted to control religious leadership in Judea to maintain stability. The Romans often replaced high priests to curb the concentration of power within any single person and to ensure loyalty among the Jewish elite. However, even after being deposed, Annas retained substantial influence over Jewish religious and political life, largely due to his role as the patriarch of a powerful family. Several of Annas’ relatives, including five of his sons and his son-in-law Caiaphas, later held the position of the high priesthood, indicating that the Romans may have viewed the family as a stabilizing force despite rotating individuals through the high priest role.
Caiaphas, who served as High Priest from about AD 18 to AD 36, was married to Annas’ daughter. As Annas’ son-in-law, Caiaphas continued the family’s influence over Jewish religious matters, with Annas likely exerting significant control behind the scenes. Like many leaders up to the present day, Annas simply could not give up control. However, this arrangement served the Romans well because Caiaphas was seen as politically cooperative and adept at maintaining order, particularly during times of high tension, like the period of Jesus’ ministry and trial. Annas’ enduring influence, even without the official title, is evident from the account we have before us, which portray him as a key figure in the events leading up to the crucifixion of Jesus.
It is interesting that John reintroduced Caiaphas here as the member of the Sanhedrin who had advised his peers that it would be expedient that one man should die for the people, rather than have the whole nation perish. (John 11:50) This replication once again draws our attention to the fact that although things seemed to be going horribly wrong, God was still very much in control, fulfilling what he had promised previously in the Scriptures.
Now, the Mishnah (a redaction of the earlier Oral Law in writing, completed in around AD 200) tells us that trials in capital cases must be held during the day and concluded during the day. It also implies that courts should not convene on the eve of the Sabbath or a holy day because of the need for careful deliberation that might extend into the next day. It also outlines that a verdict of guilt in a capital case cannot be reached on the same day as the trial. If the court finds the defendant guilty, it must wait until the next day to issue the death penalty. This requirement allows time for reconsideration and emphasizes the value of caution in capital cases. Acquittals, however, were permitted on the same day.
But not only did the Sanhedrin go against their own rules, they also knowingly brought in false witnesses, had Jesus beaten during the trial, and had him delivered to a pagan authority, claiming that they only had one king, namely Caesar.
Interestingly, John interrupted his record of the trial of Jesus with two accounts of Peter’s actions. It is possible that he wanted to show that there were actually two contrasting trials taking place here. In one, Jesus’ main concern was not to preserve his life, but to give up his life as a sacrifice for us. But in the other, unlike Jesus, but like Thomas Cranmer, it seems Peter’s main concern was to preserve his life even if that meant retracting his promises and his convictions.
However, as we read through Peter’s denials, we must see them in the light of Jesus’ predictions. In Luke’s account, Jesus said to the disciples collectively and then to Peter individually, (I will emphasize the plural and singular usages of the word ‘you’ as I quote): “Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you (plural, i.e. all the disciples), that he might sift you (plural) like wheat, but I have prayed for you (singular, i.e. Peter) that your (singular) faith may not fail. And when you (singular) have turned again, strengthen your (singular) brothers.”
So, here I believe that we have at least two reasons why God allows us to fail.
The first reason God may allow us to experience failure is to deepen our empathy and equip us to help others who are struggling. When we face failure ourselves, we gain firsthand understanding of the frustration, disappointment, and growth that come with it. This experience builds compassion and humility, reminding us of our own limitations and the support we needed in those moments. With this awareness, we can approach others with kindness, patience, and practical guidance, offering them the same encouragement we once needed. In this way, Peter’s failures transformed him into a source of strength that enabled him to strengthen and support the other disciples…and, no doubt, to encourage everyone who reads his story.
But another reason is that Peter’s pride and his presumptuous personality stood in the way of God’s intentions for him. Filled with bravado, Peter paraded his pious resolve above that of his fellow disciples, even going so far as to argue with and correct Jesus. Countering Jesus’ prediction that all his followers would fall away the night he was betrayed, Peter proclaimed that even though they all fall away, he would not. (Mark 14:29) So, it seems Peter needed to fall face first in the mud of his own making and grovel in it for a while so that he might be transformed into a caring and understanding leader of other mud grovellers…that he might be more like the Good Shepherd who feeds his lambs gently. As such, Peter’s lesson is a lesson in humility.
When we return to the trial, we are immediately confronted with yet another glaring contrast – this time between Jesus and his accusers. When Jesus spoke in his own defence, one of Annas’ officers hit him. Now, we must presume that Jesus was still bound as he was bound by the soldiers in verse 12 and again sent bound from Annas to Caiaphas in verse 24. In other Words, the officer hit a defenceless tied-up prisoner. So, it soon becomes obvious that it is the righteous being tried by the wicked. Whereas Jesus’s actions were all done lawfully, openly, and above board, his accusers endeavoured to do all things unlawfully, underhandedly, and secretly.
From Annas Jesus was sent to be tried by the Sanhedrin, which would include the man the Romans had installed as High Priest. The Sanhedrin was the supreme court of Israel, so it is unfortunate that they were assembled under false pretences. Remember, they had already declared Jesus their adversary and had already decided to kill him. The outcome of this kangaroo court had been determined long before that night. So, this trial was little more than a sham and a farce.
Which, of course, is no surprise here for John’s readers, but what does come as a surprise is that when we return to the scene in the courtyard, Peter is still there! Despite having been released by Jesus in the garden, in spite of having been warned that he would deny Jesus, in spite of having just done so, Peter still draws in closer to those who had been with the group who arrested Jesus…those who had been witnesses of his failed attempt to rescue Jesus. In his foolish dismissal of his first denial, Peter set himself up for the second and the third denials and ultimately the greatest failure of his life.
By pridefully pushing beyond the boundaries set for him by Jesus, Peter left himself wide open for his final humiliation and total capitulation as, in fear for his life, he denied his deepest convictions and his dearest friend. Luke’s record of this event is probably one of the most poignant passages in all of world literature. As the rooster crowed, “the Lord turned and looked at Peter. And Peter remembered the saying of the Lord, how he had said to him, ‘Before the cock crows today, you will deny me three times.’ And (Peter) went out and wept bitterly.”
But this event was one that no doubt contributed to making Peter the man he later became…one of the pillars of the Early Church.
Now, like Peter, Archbishop Cranmer failed. He denied his deepest convictions in an attempt to uphold his strange faith in the divine right of royalty and to save his own life. But to be fair, this was a terrifying time to be alive as many people all around were losing their heads and being burned at the stake. After a long imprisonment and many interrogations by Bloody Queen Mary’s churchmen, on the 21st of March 1556, Cranmer was brought out of prison to speak before a packed and excited crowd assembled in what is today the University Church of St Mary the Virgin at Oxford. But his speech did not follow the previously agreed text. Rather than denying the truth, he denied, and I quote, “all such bills and papers which I have written or signed with my hand since my degradation”. All his recantations, in other words.
Despite the joyful as well as angry commotion in the church, Cranmer continued to shout above the din, refusing the Pope’s authority and rejecting the medieval doctrine of transubstantiation. At this point he was pulled from his platform and dragged through the streets of Oxford and taken to the place where Hugh Latimer and Nicholas Ridley had been martyred only a few months earlier, on October 16, 1555. As the flames began to engulf him, Cranmer held his right hand directly in the flame, fulfilling his promise made in the church that the hand which had written contrary to his heart…the hand that had signed the many recantations…would be punished first. He only removed it once to wipe his face.
Although Thomas Cranmer had denied his basic convictions before, he stood his ground when it mattered most and, as such, he stands as a martyr to the truth. He may have been a frail and feeble man, but he denied his denials as a witness to all.
Now, I must admit that it is men like Cranmer and Peter that encourage me most. I find great comfort in knowing that greater men than me have fallen face first in the muck and have yet been rescued and restored by the Lord to not only continue on the road of life, but to serve as examples to weak lambs like me.
So, I believe that God allows us to fail to remind us that we are fallible and fallen human beings so that we might learn to humbly and dependently rely on his strength, not ours. He uses our failures as tools in the life-long process of sanctification and of conforming us to the image of his Son so that we might be more compassionate and considerate shepherds of his sheep. But God also uses our failures to encourage others who desperately need to know that face-first-in-the-dirt experiences are not uncommon…and that they are not alone in their humiliation and that the humiliation is the crucible in which they are being purified to shine more brightly the light of Jesus.
Shall we pray?
© Johannes W H van der Bijl 2024
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