Allow me, if I may, to speak for just a moment about my earthly father. He died in 1983 at the age of 62.
He was, in every sense of the word, my best friend. I had a remarkable relationship with him. I can say with all honesty that he and I never had an argument. Well, almost. When I returned from a summer in Lake Tahoe in 1970 with hair covering my ears and far down the back of my neck, we came pretty close to our first confrontation. But it was averted when my mother called her hairdresser over to our house who quickly clipped my long blonde locks!
Never once did I doubt my dad’s love for me. I could tell him anything. I never felt condemned or rejected by him. There was never a time when he was too busy for me. He never failed to attend every athletic event in which I participated. He affirmed me and loved me and never compared me with other boys. He always made me feel special. There was a very special bond of love between us.
But I feared my dad. I know that sounds like a contradiction, but it’s not. I feared him because I knew that he loved me too much to ignore my rebellion and sinfulness and childish immaturity. There were consequences for my actions, but I never questioned his intent or motivation or commitment to me. Discipline and intimacy were perfectly compatible in our relationship.
I also feared him in the sense that I was terrified of hurting him. The thought that my actions might cause him pain or that I might somehow disappoint him by what I said or did was more than I could bear.
I’m not so naïve as to think that everyone has had this sort of relationship with their fathers, and I can only attribute mine to the grace and mercy and kindness of God. But the relationship I had with my dad has greatly affected the relationship I have with my heavenly Father. I’ve never really struggled much to reconcile the fear of God with the reality of his love for me. Intimacy and awe have always felt perfectly compatible when it comes to my heavenly Father. But I’m probably in the minority on this point.
My guess is that many, perhaps even most, of you have a hard time swallowing what Peter says here in v. 17. Look at it closely. Peter unmistakably commands us to “fear” the one whom we call “Father”. No one doubts that the “fear” in v. 17 is the fear of God. See 1 Peter 2:17.
But at first glance these two concepts appear to cancel each other out. If God is my “Father” he is, by definition, the one who protects me and provides for me and loves me and guards me and has adopted me into his family and who invites me to come to him with all my burdens and anxieties and to trust him and love him. But if all that is wrapped up in God being our “Father”, how can Peter then command us to “fear” him?
Let me make the problem even greater by reminding you of what is behind this glorious privilege we have of calling upon God as “Father”.
Jesus always spoke of God as "my Father", both as a formal designation and as personal address in prayer. The lone exception to this rule is his cry of dereliction from the cross: "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" (Mark 15:34). At that moment Jesus regarded his relationship to God as penal and judicial, not paternal.
In the OT, apart from texts in which God is compared with an earthly father, the word is used of him only 15x. Yet, in not one of those cases does anyone refer to God as "my Father" in personal, individual prayer. But that is precisely what Jesus did and what we are told to do.
Abba, the Aramaic term lying back of the Greek pater, was used in Judaism to express the intimacy, security and tenderness in a family relationship. It was the term tiny children used to address their fathers. In the Talmud we read that when a child is weaned it learns to say abba (daddy) and imma (mommy). There is no precedent in all the literature of Jewish prayer for God being addressed as Abba. According to Joachim Jeremias, "to the Jewish mind it would have been disrespectful and therefore inconceivable to address God with this familiar word. For Jesus to venture to take this step was something new and unheard of. He spoke to God like a child to its father, simply, inwardly, confidently. Jesus' use of abba in addressing God reveals the heart of his relationship with God."
The glorious news is that this is precisely the relationship with God that we have through Jesus. It is by means of the Spirit's ministry within us that we cry out: "Abba, Father!"
But what can it possibly mean, then, to say that we are to “fear” him? Answering that is not easy because it is culturally and politically and even psychologically unpopular today to speak of the “fear” of God.
Most people aren’t even aware of how pervasive and important “fearing God” is in Scripture. Of the literally dozens of texts I could cite, there are a few that come immediately to mind. For example, as Abraham was about to slay Isaac, God said: “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him, for now I know that you fear God, seeing you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me” (Gen. 22:12).
When Satan stood before God, the Lord said to him: “Have you considered my servant Job, that there is none like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil?” (Job 1:8). We’re all familiar with the declaration in Proverbs that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge” (Prov. 1:7a).
The New Testament is also familiar with this truth, as Peter, for example, issues this command to his readers: “Honor everyone. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honor the emperor” (1 Peter 2:17).
What, then, does it mean for the believer to “fear” God? The most frequently heard response is that it entails reverence and awe, and that is no doubt true. By this I understand that we must live and speak and think and act with a keen and ever-present awareness that he is holy and we are not, he is powerful and we are weak, he is self-sufficient and we are utterly dependent for every breath on his goodness and grace. This is the sort of “fear” that expresses itself in trembling and amazement and an overwhelming sense of personal frailty and finitude.
This sort of fear is the antithesis of presumption, pride and self-righteousness. Yes, God is our heavenly Father and he sings over us with rapturous delight. But he is also a consuming fire (Heb. 12:28-29), in whose glorious presence both John the Apostle and the twenty-four Elders fall prostrate in humble adoration (Rev. 1:17; 4:9-10).
To fear God means to live conscious of his all-pervasive presence, conscious of our absolute, moment-by-moment dependence on him for light and life, conscious of our comprehensive responsibility to do all he has commanded, fearful of offending him, determined to obey him (Deut. 6:1-2,24; 8:6; Pss. 112:1; 119:63; Malachi 3:5), and committed to loving him (Deut. 10:12,20; 13:4).
When we look to Proverbs we discover that to fear God is to know him (Prov. 1:29; 2:4-5) and to hate evil (Prov. 8:13; 16:6). Fearing God yields confidence (Prov. 14:26) and humility (Prov. 3:7; 22:4), and contentment (Prov. 23:17).
The fear of God, then, is many things. But we now come to what it is not. It is not to be frightened of him in the sense that we live in uncertainty as to whether he might one day turn on us and lay upon us the condemnation that our sin deserves. It is not to be afraid of him in the sense that we live in doubt about his intentions or whether or not he plans on fulfilling the promises of his Word. It is not to be terrorized and paralyzed at the prospect of having our transgressions visited yet again upon us, in spite of the fact that they have been fully and finally visited on our Savior, the Lord Jesus. It is not to live in anxious dread that divine wrath will yet find us out and bring death and eternal destruction to our souls.
Why do I say this? How do I know that to fear God does not mean to be afraid of his judgment or rejection? There are many ways to prove this, but none better than Psalm 130:3-4. It’s the sort of text that is easily overlooked and ignored. Here it is:
“If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, that you may be feared” (Ps. 130:3-4).
On first reading, something seems terribly askew. Would it not have made more sense for the psalmist to have said: “But with you there is justice, that you may be feared”? Is it not the prospect of God exacting payment for our transgressions that evokes fear in the human soul? If God should indeed “mark iniquities” then fear seems the only appropriate response.
But the good news is that with God “there is forgiveness”! That being the case, would not all “fear” be eliminated? One would certainly think so. Yet the psalmist asserts that the result of forgiveness (perhaps even its purpose) is that we might fear God ever more fervently.
Think deeply about what is being said. With God there is forgiveness. From him proceeds the grace that provides a propitiation for our sins. He has taken every step necessary to accomplish our redemption through his Son. According to Psalm 103:10, he no longer deals with us according to our sins or repays us according to our iniquities. Indeed, our sins have been removed from us as far as the east is from the west (Ps. 103:12).
This is why the “fear” of God mentioned in this text cannot be fear of facing condemnation or fear of encountering and experiencing his righteous wrath. Do you see the psalmist’s logic? If what we find with God is forgiveness for our sins, what grounds remain for us to live in terror of his judgment or wrath? If God has wiped clean the slate of our sin and guilt, then clearly he has chosen not to “mark iniquities” and just as clearly all reason for fear is gone. Therefore, if the “fear of God” in this passage were a reference to the dread of impending destruction, forgiveness is emptied of all meaning and value.
But according to what we read in v. 4, forgiveness is the foundation for fear! The unshakeable knowledge that God will never “mark iniquities” (v. 3), which is to say, the assurance that our sins have been forever forgiven, is the reason why we fear God. There’s no escaping the force of the psalmist’s language: fearing God is the necessary fruit of forgiveness! This alone demands that fearing God entail something altogether other than being afraid of judgment.
Forgiveness, as much as any act of God, reveals his incomprehensible greatness and majesty. The infinitely transcendent God of holiness and truth has acted in grace on behalf of hell-deserving sinners. Once the reality of this is fully grasped, the only reasonable response is one of brokenness, humility, and breathtaking awe at such amazing love.
Certainly there is joy in the knowledge of our forgiveness, as well as gratitude and praise. But these are perfectly consistent with holy fear, that bone-shattering realization that it is by divine mercy alone that we are not forever consumed by divine wrath. One can simultaneously “taste” the goodness of the Lord (Ps. 34:8a) and “fear” him (Ps. 34:9a).
So, it’s on the basis of texts like Psalm 130 that we know that to fear God is not the same as being afraid of him.
But wait a minute, Sam! If we are forgiven, then how is it that we will be judged impartially according to our deeds? Isn’t that what Peter says in v. 17? Isn’t that one of the reasons why we should fear God during our earthly sojourn? Yes! But the judgment here is not one to determine whether or not you will enter the kingdom of God but a judgment to determine your rewards and degree of authority in that kingdom.
We must never forget that the “judgment” which God’s children undergo is altogether different from the “judgment” that unbelievers experience. We who by grace are able to call upon God as “Father” will be judged by the same standard but not for the same purpose as non-Christians will be.
Unbelievers ought to “fear” God as they contemplate the eternal judgment that awaits them. Christians, on the other hand, “fear” God at the prospect of standing before the Lord to have his/her deeds scrutinized and recompensed. It is the fear of not pleasing the Lord. It is the fear of one’s works being assessed as “evil” (v. 10) and thus suffering the loss of that reward that would otherwise have come with obedience to the will and ways of God.
Therefore, the “fear” of the Lord is not the fear of condemnation but of less than notable commendation when our deeds are assessed on that day.
But the reality of judgment isn’t the only reason we should fear God, as is clear from what Peter says in vv. 18-21. We should also fear God as we come to recognize and to prize the infinite price that was paid to ransom us from our sins.
We should really translate the opening of v. 18 as, “because you know . . .” or “since you know that you were ransomed by the precious blood of Christ!”
“Redeemed/Ransomed” refers to a well-known custom in Greco-Roman culture. In order for a slave to gain his/her freedom, a politician couldn’t do what Abraham Lincoln did and write the Emancipation Proclamation. Slavery in the ancient world wasn’t based on race, but on economics. Therefore, a slave would typically experience emancipation or receive his/her freedom after money had been deposited by someone in the temple of a god or goddess. This money would then be paid to the slave’s owner thus ending the slave’s captivity. The sum of money paid for the redemption or the ransom was referred to as the “price” and the slave was considered to have been redeemed by the deity.
According to Peter, his readers were in captivity or bondage to “the futile ways inherited from” their “forefathers.” In other words, they were slaves to the sinful, useless, meaningless way of life that alienated them from God.
But a “price” has been paid! They have been set free! They have been ransomed and redeemed! But not because someone took a pile of silver or a bag of gold to a temple and gave it to some pagan god or goddess. They and we have been ransomed because God the Father put forth the precious blood of his Son, Jesus Christ, as the purchase price for our lives.
Why is the “blood” of Christ precious? Before I answer that question, let’s make sure we know what the word “precious” means.
Peter doesn’t mean “precious” as we do when we first set our eyes on a new born baby and say, “Oh, she’s so precious!” Precious does not mean cute or cuddly or sweet or endearing. Here it means priceless! Costly! Of infinite value! The blood of Christ is precious because it is a spiritual treasure of immeasurable proportions.
And why is it of infinite value and of unfathomable worth? For numerous reasons.
First, it is “precious” because of him whose blood it is. It is “precious” blood because it is the blood of the Son of God, the most glorious and grand and righteous and powerful and loving and gentle and good and holy and humble man who ever lived: Jesus!
But second this “blood” is also “precious” because of what it can do!
The blood of the cross can accomplish what all the silver and gold and platinum and diamonds and rubies and all the wealth of the world cannot do. Yes, money is a wonderful thing. It can purchase comfort and physical blessings and nice homes. But it is powerless to ransom captive souls from sin!
The blood of the cross can accomplish what education cannot. Yes, education broadens the mind and enlightens the understanding and captivates the imagination, but it is powerless to convert the soul and renew the spirit and fill the heart with joy in Jesus!
The blood of the cross can accomplish what science cannot. Yes, science can improve the quality of our lives on earth and protect us from infectious diseases and create devices that improve our communication. But it cannot redeem us from sin or impart forgiveness or give us hope in the face of death.
The blood of the cross can accomplish what technology cannot. I’m grateful for technology, for the airline industry that enables us to travel around the world, for the laptop computer on which I do my work and write my books, for the heating systems that keep us warm and the air conditioning systems that keep us cool. But technology cannot regenerate our hearts or bring us into the true knowledge of God.
Praise God for nuclear energy and economic development and the entertainment industry and athletics and the international banking system. But for all their good, they cannot do what the blood of Christ can do. They cannot ransom us from sin. They cannot redeem us from judgment. They cannot give us God. But the blood of Christ shed on Calvary’s tree can!
So do you hear what Peter is saying? “Live your lives in the fear of God because you know you were ransomed not with pathetic little temporary treasures like gold and silver, but with an infinite, eternal treasure, the blood of Jesus. Fear God because you've been ransomed at infinite cost.”
Thus Peter seems to be saying, “Fear conducting yourself as though the ransom were not precious.” The blood of Christ has redeemed you from a useless and meaningless and futile way of life, so don’t live your new life as if they ransom price was anything less than glorious and majestic and priceless.
You see, some people actually use their ransom from sin by the blood of Christ as an excuse for sinning. They say to themselves: “Well, if I’ve been redeemed from sin and never again have to face the possibility of judgment, then I’ll live like I want. I can do anything I please.”
I once heard John Piper illustrate this point in a powerful way. He said it would be like a girl who is kidnapped from her wealthy father. The kidnappers demand a huge ransom and the father liquidates all his assets, selling his house and his possessions right down to his wife's wedding ring. He brings all that he has to the appointed place and sets the ransom down in a field and walks away. Soon the daughter walks out and gets the ransom and takes it back to the kidnappers. Then she puts her arm lovingly around one of kidnappers and as she walks away looks over her shoulder to her father laughing and shouts at him, "Sucker!"
We would all say that the girl committed a fearful and treacherous act.
Peter is warning us against the horrible danger of trying to do that with the ransom of God. He knows that there are people who try to take the ransom of God from sin—the blood of Jesus—and turn it into a means of sinning. The very ransom that verse 18 says was paid to free us from a futile way of life some people try to use to fund that very life of sin.
But there’s still more! Verses 20-21 are a continuation of the thought that began in vv. 17-19. Peter is not yet done telling us why the blood of Christ is so precious to us!
Peter tells us five things in verses 20 and 21 that increase the preciousness of Christ. Each of these is worthy of a sermon all to themselves, but I’d rather you simply let them cascade one upon another and feel the cumulative effect of the precious nature of the blood of Christ.
1. He, that is, Christ Jesus, was foreknown before the foundation of the world (v. 20a).
This in itself proves that foreknowledge means far more than simply knowing about something in advance. This is Peter’s way of saying that the Father loved the Son from eternity past and planned his death and the shedding of his blood before any of us had even taken a breath. The death of Christ was not an afterthought. God wasn’t surprised by sin or caught off guard by our futile way of life. His purpose to redeem his people by the blood of the Son antedates the creation of the universe!
So when you begin to concoct ways to ignore the precious blood of Christ and justify your sinful life, stop and think: the divine plan to rescue you from the very sin you are contemplating committing was conceived in the heart of God before the universe was created!
2. He was made manifest in the last times (v. 20b)
Although the plan was conceived and ordained in eternity past, it was necessary for the Son of God to become human and submit himself to the weakness and ugliness of living life as a frail man exposed to the abuse and mockery and hatred of other men. It wasn’t enough for God to plan our ransom: it required that the eternal Christ take on human flesh and appear among us and make a sacrificial offering for our freedom.
3. He was made manifest for our sake (v. 20c)
He did this for your sake! This is breathtaking! Shattering! We are talking here about the infinitely powerful and wise and holy God of the universe and his one and only divine Son. And we are talking about their purpose from the untraceable distance of infinity and eternity to plan an unthinkable penetration into creation. Why? For our sake, that we might be ransomed from a futile manner of life. If that doesn't prove that God takes your behavior and your future seriously, what can?
4. God raised him from the dead and glorified him (v. 21a)
The precious nature of Christ’s blood is seen in that God raised him from the dead and exalted him to glory at his right hand. The ransom Christ paid was vindicated and demonstrated and declared to be of immeasurable worth in achieving the redemption of sinners when God raised him again to newness of life.
5. Through Christ our belief and faith and hope are now in God (v. 21)
Peter says it twice in v. 21. At the beginning of v. 21 he says that it is “through him” that we are now believers in God and again at the close of v. 21 that the purpose of it all is that our “faith and hope” might be in God.
In other words, Jesus Christ has done the necessary work to connect us with God in faith. He was eternally foreknown, he was manifested in human form, he shed his precious blood, God raised him from the dead, God gave him glory and through all of this we come to hope in God.
Do you see that Peter ends this paragraph right where he began it? He started these exhortations in v. 13 by commanding us to “set our hope fully on the grace that will be brought” to us when Jesus appears. And now he concludes this paragraph in v. 21 by telling us that God has done everything necessary in and through Jesus to make it possible for us to put our faith and hope confidently in God and God alone.
Everything God has done for us in Christ is so that we might put our hope in God and not in sin. Many of you today have put all your hope in what you think the world and the flesh and the devil can do for you. You’ve bought into a lie. You’ve listened to the deceptive message of our society that says, “God isn’t worthy of your confidence. You can’t trust him. You can’t believe what he says. The pleasures I offer you are immediate and they feel really good. Don’t believe that nonsense about Jesus and life eternal. I’ll give you life right now. After all, once you’re dead, you’re dead. So grab for all the gusto you can.”
“Stop trying to satisfy your heart's desire with this world and all its God-belittling ways. And turn to Christ. Focus all your mind's attention and your heart's affection on him who was chosen from eternity, manifested in time, crucified for sinners, raised from the dead, glorified at the right hand of God—all for your sake—all that you might be satisfied in God and not sin” (Piper).
Conclusion:
This entire paragraph began with an exhortation to live in the fear of God. Fear living your life as if God is not sufficient to satisfy your soul. Fear living your life as if the blood of Christ is not precious and able to deliver you from a futile and meaningless existence.