Introduction
Last week, we heard Peter confess Jesus as “the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” Jesus blessed him, named him the rock upon which the church would be built, and entrusted him with the keys of the kingdom.
This week, Peter is called a hindrance (see the Narrative Context section for my thoughts on this word choice).
It is tempting to read these scenes as if they happen in one breath: Peter gets it right, and then Peter immediately gets it spectacularly wrong. But Matthew’s opening words invite us to slow the story down: “From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples…”
This may not be Peter instantly forgetting what Jesus has just told him. It may be Peter beginning to inhabit the authority Jesus has given him. As Jesus continues speaking about Jerusalem, suffering, and death, Peter becomes increasingly aware of the danger ahead.
Peter loves Jesus. Peter wants to protect him. And Peter has just been told that he possesses real authority.
That combination of love, fear, and authority, is where the danger begins.
Narrative Context
Matthew begins this passage with a significant transition: “From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples…”
Matthew previously used nearly the same construction at the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry: “From that time Jesus began to proclaim, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near’” (Matthew 4:17).
In Matthew 4, Jesus begins proclaiming the kingdom. In Matthew 16, Jesus begins showing his disciples where that proclamation will lead.
Mark’s version sounds more like the continuation of the same conversation: “Then he began to teach them…” Matthew’s “from that time on” creates more narrative space. It signals the beginning of a new and ongoing stage in Jesus’ ministry. Jesus does not merely make one prediction about his death. From this point forward, he begins preparing the disciples for what awaits him in Jerusalem.
We should therefore be careful about imagining Peter’s confession, commissioning, and rebuke as occurring within a few breathless moments. Matthew places the scenes next to one another because they interpret one another, but his transition may suggest the passing of at least some time. Jesus has begun teaching the disciples repeatedly that he must go to Jerusalem, suffer, be killed, and be raised.
Peter has had time to hear what Jesus is saying. He may also have had time to recognize its implications.
There is nothing foolish about Peter’s concern. Jesus has already attracted dangerous opposition. In Matthew 12:14, the Pharisees conspire about “how to destroy him.” Jesus now proposes walking directly toward Jerusalem, the center of religious and political power, while openly predicting his rejection and death.
Peter does not need special insight to recognize the danger. Jesus is telling him plainly.
And Peter also would not have possessed an expectation that the Messiah must suffer and die. First-century Jewish hopes concerning the Messiah were diverse, but a crucified Messiah was not a common category. Peter’s confession is not deficient because he failed to include crucifixion in a theological formula he should already have known.
Peter knows that Jesus is the Messiah. He also knows that Jesus is his teacher, friend, and Lord. He has left everything to follow him. Now Jesus is saying that he intends to enter the place where the danger is greatest.
Peter wants to stop him.
His reaction may also be connected to the authority he has just received. Jesus has given Peter the keys of the kingdom and the authority to bind and loose. Peter may believe that protecting Jesus is the first faithful use of that authority.
So Peter takes Jesus aside and rebukes him: “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.”
The language sounds presumptuous, but it may come from genuine courage. Perhaps the other disciples are frightened but unwilling to confront Jesus. Peter, now recognized as a leader, accepts responsibility for saying what they are all thinking.
He is not trying to betray Jesus. He is trying to save him.
Yet this is precisely where authority becomes dangerous. Peter’s love for Jesus begins to convince him that he knows better than Jesus where Jesus should go. The disciple moves from following Jesus to managing him.
The keys have barely been placed in Peter’s hands, and he is already tempted to use them to lock the door to Jerusalem (bind and loose).
Jesus responds: “Get behind me, Satan! You are a hindrance to me.”
The NRSVUE reads “You are a hindrance to me,” replacing the NRSV’s more concrete “You are a stumbling block to me.” This is one NRSVUE revision I find myself lamenting. “Hindrance” conveys the basic meaning of the Greek σκάνδαλον (something that trips, traps, or obstructs) but it obscures some of Matthew’s wonderful wordplay. Peter is the rock upon which Jesus will build the church. But even a good rock becomes a stumbling block when it is placed in the middle of the road.
Jesus does not take Peter’s authority away. Jesus does not revoke the promise, reclaim the keys, or choose another disciple. But Peter must learn what Christian authority is for.
It is not authority over Jesus. It is authority exercised behind Jesus.
“Get behind me” may therefore contain an invitation within the rebuke. Jesus is not simply saying, “Go away.” He is telling Peter to return to the position of a disciple. Peter belongs behind Jesus. Not standing in front of him, attempting to redirect his path, but following wherever Jesus leads.
When Protection Becomes Possession
Peter’s failing is not a lack of devotion, but an excess of devotion shaped by fear.
Peter would do almost anything for Jesus. He has left his former life, crossed turbulent seas, traveled among crowds, faced opposition, attempted to walk on water, and confessed Jesus publicly as the Messiah. Now he is prepared to use his voice and his authority to protect him.
But Peter’s desire to protect Jesus begins to turn into an attempt to possess Jesus.
Peter wants to preserve the Jesus he knows: the teacher who walks beside him, the healer who restores the sick, the Messiah whose presence has reordered his entire life. He cannot imagine this movement continuing without Jesus physically leading it. He cannot imagine receiving the keys because Jesus will actually need him to use them.
Peter may have accepted authority as an honor. Now he begins to discover that it is a responsibility.
Jesus cannot remain safely beside him forever. The disciples will have to lead, teach, forgive, bind, loose, baptize, and make disciples without Jesus’ physical presence. They will have to become what Jesus has been preparing them to become.
That may help us hear Jesus’ words differently: “Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”
The disciples seem to already be willing to risk their lives protecting Jesus. Later, in Gethsemane, one of Jesus’ companions will draw a sword. Their deeper challenge is not whether they will die for Jesus. It is whether they will live without controlling what happens to him.
Peter must deny the impulse to make the mission conform to his own fear. He must release the life he imagined, the life in which Jesus remains beside him and the movement continues as it has. A life where Peter never has to discover what those keys are truly for.
Peter wants to save Jesus so that nothing has to change.
Jesus tells him that discipleship will require letting go.
This does not make Peter faithless. It makes him human. Anyone who has watched someone they love walk toward danger, suffering, illness, or death understands something of Peter’s desperation. Love naturally reaches out and says, “This must never happen to you.”
Sometimes that intervention is necessary. Jesus is not teaching us to permit preventable suffering, tolerate abuse, or refuse help to those in danger.
But sometimes our desire to protect another person is also a desire to protect ourselves from the pain of losing them. We begin making decisions for them, silencing what they are telling us, or using whatever authority we possess to hold them close. Protection quietly becomes control.
Peter must learn that loving Jesus does not mean controlling Jesus. He must trust Jesus enough to let him go where Peter cannot yet follow or understand.
Preaching Possibility
The Danger of Faithful Authority
The go-to sermon for this text is often, “How did Peter get Jesus so wrong?” But Peter’s reaction is deeply understandable. It is a normal, human response, one shaped by love, fear, and the ways of this world. That does not necessarily make it the faithful Christian response.
Instead, we might ask, “How can faithful people misuse authority, even when they believe they are acting out of love?”
Peter is not corrupt. He is not seeking wealth, prestige, or domination. He is trying to protect someone he loves. But now that Peter has been given authority, he possesses the power to turn that loving impulse into an attempt to control Jesus and redirect his mission.
That is what makes the passage so unsettling. It’s not that authority automatically empowers our selfish desires. It’s that it can amplify our best intentions until care becomes control, protection becomes possession, and faithfulness becomes the conviction that we know what is best for everyone else, even Jesus.
We usually imagine the abuse of authority beginning with bad intentions. But authority can also become dangerous when good intentions go unquestioned. A pastor wants to protect the congregation. A parent wants to protect a child. A leader wants to protect an institution. A longtime member wants to protect a beloved ministry. Because the motive is love, we assume the action must be faithful.
But love can become possessive. Protection can become control. Stewardship can become preservation. Leadership can become the conviction that we know where everyone else, including Jesus, ought to go.
Peter’s problem is not that he loves Jesus too little. It is that he allows his love and fear to place him in front of Jesus.
Yet Jesus does not remove Peter from leadership. He does not take back the keys, withdraw the blessing, or search for a more reliable rock. He reorients Peter’s leadership: “Get behind me.”
There is grace within that command. Jesus does not say, “Go away from me.” He returns Peter to the place of a disciple. Peter may have stepped into Jesus’ path, but Jesus calls him to step behind him once again. Peter’s misuse of authority does not become the end of his calling.
That is the posture of all Christian authority. The church does not possess the keys so that it can lock Jesus safely inside the structures it knows. The church receives authority so that it can follow Jesus into places we would not choose for ourselves.
And perhaps Peter does not need to protect Jesus or preserve the church as desperately as he imagines. Jesus did not tell Peter, “You will build my church.” He said, “I will build my church.” Peter has been entrusted with real authority, but the future of Christ’s ministry does not finally depend upon Peter’s ability to understand everything, prevent every loss, or make every correct decision.
Neither does it depend upon ours.
Christian leaders are therefore free to hold authority with humility. We can listen when Christ’s call disrupts our plans. We can receive correction without believing our ministry is over. We can loosen our grip on the people, institutions, and ministries we love, trusting that they belong first to Christ. And when we discover that we have stepped in front of Jesus, we can hear his command not only as rebuke but also as renewed invitation: “Get behind me.”
The rock remains the rock, not because Peter never becomes a stumbling block, but because Jesus continues to call him back into place. The church is not built upon Peter’s perfection. It is built by Christ, who keeps calling imperfect disciples to follow.
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Micah Krey 
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