While he clung to Peter and John, all the people, utterly astounded, ran together to them in the portico called Solomon’s. And when Peter saw it he addressed the people. -Acts 3:11-12a (ESV)
In Acts chapter 3, Peter stands in the temple courts with a healed man beside him and a stunned crowd in front of him. They are amazed, but Peter will not let their amazement linger. Wonder, if left alone, fades. So he takes the initiative.
And his words land hard.
“You handed him over.”
“You disowned him.”
“You killed the author of life.”
This is anything but gentle language. Honestly, it sounds more like Isaiah standing in Jerusalem calling the people “rebels,” or Jeremiah accusing the temple goers of trusting in sacred space while practicing injustice.
Peter isn’t inventing a new tone – he’s stepping into an old one. This is how prophets spoke when covenant had been violated. Clearly and directly, without flinching or blinking. And rather bluntly.
And yet in v.17, Peter calls them “Brothers.” That matters!
Prophetic confrontation in Scripture is never delivered from a distant heart. We see Isaiah weeping, and we feel Jeremiah’s aching. These men loved their people despite their disobedience, despite having to proclaim God’s judgment upon them.
Peter does the same. His accusation is not meant to exile these Jewish onlookers from God’s story, but to awaken them inside of it.
Then comes the surprising turn:
“I know that you acted in ignorance.”
An olive branch?
Peter doesn’t deny the seriousness of what happened. The words “you killed the author of life” are still hanging in the air. But he names ignorance, not as an escape hatch, but as a doorway. In the Scriptures, ignorance does not erase guilt, but it does make repentance possible. It creates space for mercy to move.
This is where Peter sounds most like the prophets. Over and over, God confronts Israel and then says, “Come, let us reason together.” Judgment is spoken so that return can happen. Exposure is meant to lead to healing and restoration.
But Peter goes even further. He says that what they did, as terrible as it was, did not undo God’s promises. The suffering of the Messiah had already been spoken of by the prophets. Their failure by no means canceled the story! Somehow, God carried the story through all of it.
That realization changes everything. If God is still faithful after this, then the door is not shut! You and I should find this truth so comforting!
So Peter calls them to repent… not to shrink back, but to turn away from their sin and unbelief. He speaks of sins being wiped out, of times of refreshing, of restoration still to come. These are not words for people written off. These are words for people being invited back!
Then comes the line that would have been almost unbelievable to hear: “You are heirs of the prophets and of the covenant God made with your fathers.”
He does not say, “You were heirs until you went and blew it.”
He does not say, “You could have been heirs, if only….”
He says, “YOU ARE.”
Even after rejecting Jesus. Even after misunderstanding their own Messiah. Even after standing on the wrong side of history’s most important moment. They still are heirs.
This is the widening of mercy.
The prophets had always held this tension: Israel judged, yet Israel loved; Israel exposed, yet Israel pursued. Peter inherits that tension and sharpens it around Jesus. The same crowd that is confronted with their sin is also told that God sent His servant to them first.
First.
Mercy does not come from a distance; it draws near to those burdened by what they cannot undo.
Peter’s speech teaches us that truth-telling and hope belong together… that naming sin is not the opposite of grace, but often the path into it… and that God’s covenant faithfulness runs deeper than human failure. AMEN and AMEN!
So… the crowd came expecting an explanation for a miracle. But they received something larger – an invitation to re-enter their own story, this time with eyes open.
We may fail sometimes, but God refuses to let failure be the final word.
Former Blackout Artist 