Passage 📖: Matthew 26:57–75

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👋 Introduction to Today’s Lesson

Have you ever been lied about?

Not just misunderstood — but deliberately misrepresented?

Have you ever watched someone twist your words…

while everyone else just stood by and let it happen?

That’s the kind of moment we’re stepping into.

Jesus isn’t surrounded by strangers.

He’s surrounded by people who knew the Scriptures…

but had no room for the Savior.

This isn’t justice — it’s theatre.

A midnight trial.

With rigged charges.

And a pre-decided verdict.

And while that’s happening inside…

One of Jesus’ closest friends is outside — falling apart.

This is a story about courage… and collapse.

About integrity on trial… and grace in failure.

It’s a reminder that when everything is stripped away,

who we really are — and who we trust — gets revealed.

Let’s Dive In. 

Last week, we entered the Garden — and watched as Jesus was betrayed not by enemies, but by a friend. Judas didn’t raise a sword. He kissed Him. A symbol of affection… twisted into betrayal. And yet Jesus didn’t flinch. He didn’t lash out. He called Judas “friend” — even in the moment of betrayal. Peter, meanwhile, panicked. He drew a sword, ready to fight. But Jesus stopped him, saying: “Those who live by the sword will die by it.” (v. 52) In that moment, Jesus showed us the radical power of restraint. He could’ve called down angels — but chose the cross instead. Because love, not force, is the power that defines His Kingdom. And finally — as Jesus is arrested — the disciples scatter. Just as He said they would. The lesson? Even when we fall short… Even when we deny or abandon Him… He remains faithful. And His love reaches for us — even in our worst moment.

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Those who had arrested Jesus took him to Caiaphas ("kai-AH-fuhs") the high priest, where the teachers of the law and the elders had assembled. But Peter followed him at a distance, right up to the courtyard of the high priest. He entered and sat down with the guards to see the outcome. The chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin were looking for false evidence against Jesus so that they could put him to death. But they did not find any, though many false witnesses came forward. Finally two came forward and declared, “This fellow said, ‘I am able to destroy the temple of God and rebuild it in three days.’” Then the high priest stood up and said to Jesus, “Are you not going to answer?

What is this testimony that these men are bringing against you?” But Jesus remained silent. The high priest said to him, “I charge you under oath by the living God: Tell us if you are the Messiah, the Son of God.” “You have said so,” Jesus replied. “But I say to all of you: From now on you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming on the clouds of heaven.” Then the high priest tore his clothes and said, “He has spoken blasphemy! Why do we need any more witnesses? Look, now you have heard the blasphemy. What do you think?” “He is worthy of death,” they answered.

Then they spit in his face and struck him with their fists. Others slapped him and said, “Prophesy to us, Messiah. Who hit you?” Now Peter was sitting out in the courtyard, and a servant girl came to him. “You also were with Jesus of Galilee,” she said. But he denied it before them all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. Then he went out to the gateway, where another servant girl saw him and said to the people there, “This fellow was with Jesus of Nazareth.” He denied it again, with an oath: “I don’t know the man!”

After a little while, those standing there went up to Peter and said, “Surely you are one of them; your accent gives you away.” Then he began to call down curses, and he swore to them, “I don’t know the man!” Immediately a rooster crowed. Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken: “Before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.” And he went outside and wept bitterly.

After Jesus is arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane, He is taken to the house of Caiaphas, the high priest (v. 57). This residence likely served as both a private home and an official council chamber. The location would have been somewhere in Jerusalem, not far from the Temple, where the religious leaders had gathered in secret under cover of night.

This isn’t a formal daytime trial.

It’s an emergency nighttime hearing, held hastily and illegally, to secure grounds for condemning Jesus before morning.

Jesus is brought before:

Peter, we’re told in the next section (v. 58), follows at a distance and sneaks into the courtyard to watch what unfolds.

This trial takes place late at night, possibly between 1–3 AM. The urgency of the moment is clear:

This is not justice.

It’s a coordinated attempt to preserve their power by silencing a threat.

The Sanhedrin couldn’t agree on any charge until two witnesses twisted Jesus’ words about the Temple (v. 61). Even then, the accusation was weak. It exposed not Jesus — but their desperation.

For most of the trial, Jesus says nothing. He fulfills the prophecy of Isaiah 53:7:

“He was oppressed and afflicted, yet He did not open His mouth…”

His silence isn’t weakness.

It’s strength under pressure — He’s refusing to play their game.

When Caiaphas ("kai-AH-fuhs") finally confronts Him directly — “Are you the Christ, the Son of God?” — Jesus answers clearly:

“You have said so. But I tell you… you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power and coming on the clouds of heaven.” (v. 64)

This is a direct reference to Psalm 110:1 and Daniel 7:13 — messianic and divine claims.

It’s not vague. It’s bold. And the high priest reacts by tearing his clothes and declaring Jesus guilty of blasphemy.

Having “condemned” Him, they spit on Him, beat Him, and mock His identity:

“Prophesy to us, Christ! Who struck you?” (v. 68)

It’s a moment of total humiliation.

The Creator is slapped by His creation.

But even in silence — He’s still the King.

While Jesus is falsely accused inside, Peter is outside — in the courtyard.

Just hours earlier, Peter had sworn he’d never fall away (v. 35). But now, when asked if he’s with Jesus, he denies it. Three times.

And then — the rooster crows.

Peter remembers Jesus’ words… and breaks down, weeping.

It’s a gut-wrenching moment of failure, shame, and heartbreak — and a crucial part of the passion story.

This passage gives us two courtroom scenes side by side:

It’s a moment of contrast:

But it’s also a moment of grace.

Because Jesus already knew Peter would fall… and still chose him.

What we witness in this scene isn’t just a moment of injustice — it’s a moment of fulfillment.

Jesus had already warned His disciples:

“If they insulted Me, they’ll insult you.

If they rejected Me, they’ll reject you.” (Matthew 10:24–25, paraphrased)

And now it’s happening.

Inside, Jesus is falsely accused, spat on, mocked.

Outside, Peter is questioned, cornered, and afraid.

This is the cost of discipleship.

To follow Jesus is to walk where He walked.

And sometimes — that means enduring what He endured.

But Jesus also said:

“Do not fear those who can kill the body but cannot kill the soul.” (Matthew 10:28)

“When they drag you before courts… don’t be anxious. The Spirit will give you the words.” (Matthew 10:19–20)

He wasn’t just teaching theory.

He was living it.

He stood silent before liars.

He absorbed violence without retaliation.

He held His ground in truth, love, and humility — so we’d know how to stand when our time comes.

So don’t be surprised when opposition comes.

He told us it would.

And more than that —

He showed us how to face it.

At the Last Supper, Jesus offers Peter the bread and the cup — symbols of a new covenant, a sacred bond.

He feeds him.

He communes with him.

He seals the covenant with Peter… knowing full well that Peter would break it before sunrise.

Just moments later, Jesus tells him:

“This very night… you will deny Me three times.” (Matthew 26:34)

It’s hard to imagine.

It would be like proposing to someone — entering a lifelong covenant — while fully aware that they will one day betray your love.

And choosing to marry them anyway.

That’s what Jesus does.

He enters covenant with Peter, not because of Peter’s strength — but because of His own love.

And He does the same for us.

Before you were ever born, God saw it all:

The moments you’d deny Him.

The seasons you’d walk away.

The nights you’d break His heart.

And still — He chose the cross.

Still — He offered the cup.

Still — He made room for you at the table.

Grace doesn’t show up after your failure to clean up the mess.

It comes before — to tell you your failure won’t be the end.

Like Peter, we are met by grace ahead of our worst moments.

And that grace?

It’s still available today.

Unshaken by your denial.

Unchanged by your mistakes.

Unstoppable in its pursuit of your heart.

Sometimes judgment doesn’t look like fire from heaven.

It looks like a courtroom built on lies.

Like leaders who trade truth for convenience.

Like institutions that protect power instead of people.

That’s the scene in Matthew 26.

It’s not just about Jesus being falsely condemned.

It’s about centuries of prophetic warnings finally coming to a head.

Jesus had already said it plainly:

“You build tombs for the prophets… but you are the ones who murder them.”

He warns,

“All the righteous blood shed on earth… will come upon this generation.” — Matthew 23

This trial was the climax.

The system meant to uphold righteousness… turned against the Righteous One.

And in that courtroom — They claimed to uphold God’s law — yet violated nearly all of it:

They ultimately built a religious machine that became fully opposed to the very God it claimed to serve.

This wasn’t a surprise. It was a culmination.

This wasn’t the first time God waited patiently for corruption to run its course.

He once told Abraham:

“The sin of the Amorites has not yet reached its full measure…”

— Genesis 15:16

But when it did — judgment came.

And now, the same pattern is unfolding again.

The religious leaders — once guardians of the truth — have become hostile to it.

The cup of injustice is full…

And the consequences are already in motion.

By the end of that generation, the Temple would fall.

Jerusalem would burn.

And the invitation of the Kingdom would be handed to outsiders — not because God had given up on His people,

but because His people had rejected their God.

This moment explains why the Gospel turns outward:

To Gentiles.

To strangers.

To anyone who will say yes.

But this moment isn’t just history.

It’s a mirror.

Because injustice didn’t die with the Sanhedrin.

It lives on — anywhere power is protected more than people.

Anywhere systems silence truth to preserve control.

So what do we do?

Don’t read this story and think only of them.

Read it and examine us.

Our churches.

Our leadership.

Our hearts.

Where have we silenced truth to avoid disruption?

Where have we honored the institution… but ignored the innocent?

Because innocent people still walk into our courts and communities…

Only to be met with slander.

And still suffer for speaking the truth.

And Jesus still asks the same question today:

Will you stand with Me —

Even when it costs you everything?

Blessings,

Michael