“Simeon Peter, a servant and apostle of Jesus Christ, to those who have obtained a faith of equal standing with ours by the righteousness of our God and Savior Jesus Christ” (v1).
Peter doesn’t crank out Scripture like his buddy Paul. Between Paul and Dr. Luke, they’ve got most of the NT covered (15 books and possibly also Hebrews). There are three documents that have his fingerprints. Pete has written one other letter with his name on it. Most smart dudes believe “Mark” is his biography of Jesus written through Barnabas’ nephew. This is his third. At some point just before his death, Pete dusts off his pen one more time. This time he’ll write with no other help (outside of the Holy Spirit, of course). He revealed the help he got from Silas in the first edition of his divinely inspired franchise (1Pet 5:12). What’s the reason for this followup? A speed read of 2 Peter tells you that some false teachers have infiltrated the churches who received his previous correspondence. They must be stopped now. They must be shut down and kicked out immediately. That’s why Pete needs to write right now.
Some folks make a big stink that Pete refers to himself as “Simeon Peter” this time around. It’s not exactly the first time it’s happened. Luke is one of the most accurate historians around and he calls him by that name back in his sequel (Acts 15:14). And don’t miss the importance of that scene in Acts. This is a meeting of the early church’s leadership team as they try to sort out what to do about Jesus’ conversion of more and more non-Jews. Chances are this would be the heavy hitters of the faith. And Pete was fresh off trips to Samaria and Caesarea Maritima where he saw with his own eyes Gentiles converted to faith in Christ.
Just in case you’re not entirely sure of this dude’s identity, the author gives you a quick glance at his resume. “A servant and apostle of Jesus Christ” (v1). Pete makes it clear who’s his boss. He serves the resurrected Rabbi. He writes with both humility (“servant”) and authority (“apostle”). As a matter of fact, he has the guts to claim he’s an “apostle.” This is the Greek word apostolos. It describes someone who has the same authority and privileges as the one who sent them. In the Greco-Roman world, when you talked to someone’s apostle, it was just like you were talking with the person they worked for. This is no casual claim. Not something you’d just throw around to impress folks at a party. He’s letting us know that he’s not just any Peter. He’s THAT Peter. Peter the fisherman. Peter the disciple. Peter the leader of the Twelve. Peter, the one turned his back on his Savior not once, but three times. Peter, the one the risen Jesus restored during a walk on the beach. Peter the preacher who saw God convert 3,000 people at the end of his first ever sermon. Yeah, THAT Peter. Pete THE Apostle.
Now that we have the introduction of the author confirmed, who’s on the receiving end? Who’s Pete writing to? “To those who have obtained a faith of equal standing with ours by the righteousness of our God and Savior Jesus Christ” (v1). The apostle writes to folks who are equal in their standing before God. He let them know about his apostolic ID, but he wants them to know that he’s no spiritual superstar. Did he walk with Jesus? Sure. Has Jesus given him authority? No question about it. But Pete needs a Savior just like everybody else. He makes it clear that just because he’s a capital “A” Apostle, he’s just as desperate as they are. For any of us in authority, this is a powerful reminder to not get cocky. Stop copping an attitude. Don’t look down on other believers. You need a Savior just like everybody else.
From a very practical sense, Pete wrote to these same folks in his first letter (2Pet 3:1). The address on the previous note listed the recipients as Jewish Christians “in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia” (1Pet 1:1). For those of us without a detailed knowledge of first century geography, that’s the northern part of modern day Turkey. In that first epistle, he encouraged them to hang onto Jesus in the midst of some nasty persecution and abuse. First time around, they were on the attack from the outside. This time, it’s from the inside. Some spiritual hucksters have infiltrated their ranks (2Pet 2:1).
Pete reminds them that they “have obtained a faith” (v1). The apostle uses a rather funky verb here. It’s the verb lagchano, which means to receive or be chosen specifically to get something. In Luke’s Gospel, the priest Zechariah “was chosen by lot (lagchano) to enter the temple of the Lord” (Lk 1:9). The former fisherman wants his readers to know that they had absolutely nothing do in gaining their faith. They were chosen to receive it. They were selected to receive it. They were handpicked to receive it. Their faith is a direct result of God’s grace. We only have our faith in our possession because God handed it to us. Actually, other translations (NASB, NIV, NRS) use the word “received.” The NLT reads that this is a “faith given to us by Jesus Christ.”
In football, the quarterback throws to his open receiver. The truly great QBs are able to thread the needle with tremendous accuracy. They’re able to drop a touch pass into the hands of the most stone-fingered wide out. In this case, Jesus is able to get the ball of faith into our hands despite the fact that we’re covered by the lockdown cornerback of our own sin and rebellion. He got us the ball even though we never made it off the line of scrimmage. Forget Montana. Brady? Not even close. Don’t even bring up Manning. Jesus’ ability to ensure the reception of our faith makes these Pro Bowlers look like peewees.
The apostle lets us know the process of just how this faith landed in our hot little hands. It’s “ours by the righteousness of our God and Savior Jesus Christ” (v1). God demands perfection. “You shall be holy, for I am holy” (Lev 11:44-45; 1Pet 1:16). There’s just one tiny problem. You and I are jacked up from the moment we’re born. We have a sin nature. We can’t do it. Not even for five minutes. So we desperately need outside intervention. That’s where Jesus comes in. He willingly takes our steaming pile of sin and gives us His perfect righteousness. “For our sake He (God) made Him (Jesus) to be sin who knew no sin, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God” (2Cor 5:21). Luther called it the Great Exchange. Our filth for Jesus’ perfection. Mark Driscoll sums it up this way. Jesus lived the perfect life that I failed to live. He died the death for my sin that I should have died. He rose to a glorious new life that I don’t deserve. When I trust in what Jesus has done for me (that I could NEVER do for myself!), He hands me His righteousness.
Pete writes with incredible humility. He’s a servant. He’s willing to humble himself for our benefit and the glory of God. He’s an apostle. He has put his agenda to the side in order to be one of the handpicked reps of Jesus. He understands that his faith is no better than anyone else. He’s just a beggar that’s figured out where to get the bread. And that bread is the Living Bread that we can only receive from Jesus.
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