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These words attributed to Peter, "There is salvation in no one else," raise a difficult issue. If one misunderstands, it could lead to the idea that the only way to know God is through Christ. This would be offensive to our many friends of other religions throughout the world. True, one can correctly infer from Peter's words that there is something unique about Jesus, something which makes the experience of a relationship with Jesus not only special, but according to those of us who lay claim to that relationship, something above and beyond that known to others outside this faith. But surely, it would be heartless to insist that some little boy who grows up on the streets of Bombay believing that cows are divine, or a tiny girl destined to die of starvation in a remote African village cannot be "saved." More likely, Peter is talking here about a quality of relationship with God and a unique perception of the nature of God.

Then what truth does lie behind these words? Quite possibly Peter was interpreting something Jesus taught him, words we find in John 14: "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." (Can we set aside, for the moment, a current issue regarding the use of the male pronoun for God, granting that the issue is important?) Jesus did not say, "No one comes to God." He used the word "Father." That's a word Jesus chose in an effort to teach the idea of a close personal relationship. Religion in general has viewed God as a vast entity of indescribable proportions, unlimited, unknowable to mere mortals. Jesus' interpretation of the nature of God is unique. He taught of a God who is also intimately, lovingly present to us. He used a wonderful story which we find in Luke to define the concept of "Father."

We know the story of The Lost Boy. It concerns a young fellow who persuaded his dad to give him an apparently large sum of money as an advance on his inheritance. The dad was wise enough to know that when young people reach a certain age, the juices start to flow and they're ready to break free and go out into the world beyond home. Apparently, Dad didn't argue or insist. He let the boy learn some lessons many people have to learn the hard way. Of course, it wasn't long before the boy had spent his money having a great time. He gambled, overspent, and generally fell in with a bad crowd, and before long his money was gone. Jobs were hard to find and the boy ended up on a farm feeding pigs. This prompted some real soul searching. Life at his dad's place, even for the employees, was a lot better than it was here. In retrospect, Dad treated his people very well. So the boy decided to head home "with his tail between his legs," so to speak. Naturally, he couldn't expect to have his former position, but at least Dad would probably give him a better job than he had now. Perhaps he could become one of the field hands and work his way up.

Home the boy went. Remember the story? The young fellow started up the lane, only to have his dad see him from far off and run to meet his son. The old man waved off the carefully prepared apology. He immediately embraced the boy, then ordered an impromptu holiday, gave the kid a ring and shoes as symbols of sonship, and invited everyone to a homecoming party. What a remarkable and totally surprising reception for that boy!

In modern times, an author wrote a story guessing what happened in the days to follow. In it, the boy happened to walk by his dad's room one day and seeing an envelope with his name on it, opened the letter (which had been written but never mailed). The letter declared to the son his dad's faith in the boy, telling him that he would always be loved and if ever the day came when he wanted to come home, he would be welcomed.

Moved deeply by this, the boy sat down and wrote his dad a letter to leave on the desk. It went something like this: "Dear Dad, I just read your letter to me. It almost broke my heart. There's something I have wanted to say to you. I was almost afraid to come home. And when I started up the lane, I want you to know what moved me to the depths of my being and persuaded me that I will never let you down again was, not the party, nor the holiday, nor the ring on my finger, nor the new shoes. It was the fact that when you saw me you started to run."

We know who those people were in Jesus' story. The father was God. The boy? He was you and me. Jesus was depicting the nature of God in a human little story, a God of long suffering kindness, of intimate generosity with wealth and judgment. A God who holds forth to us some exalted standards, yet who understands the human condition. A God who waits for the moment we decide to return, and who, when we do start up the lane, runs to meet us.

Surely this is what Jesus taught: It is through Jesus alone that we discover a relationship with that kind of God. It's likely that Peter had learned this lesson firsthand. Take note that the very Peter who spoke the words of our text was the same man who betrayed Jesus just a few days earlier. Had we read a few verses further here, we would have read this: "Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and JohnÉ." So, standing before the very people who had sent him scurrying away in fear not long before, we now find Peter staring them down, bearing witness without fear, to the Lord who taught him to know God as Father. Peter had found his way home.

Now, what exactly could Peter have meant by those words "salvation" and "saved"? In some Christian circles these words are familiar enough and presumably understood. On the other hand, many of us in mainstream Protestantism have been uncomfortable with such language for a long time, even though it's perfectly usable biblical language. Perhaps each of us would define "salvation" uniquely, depending on our life situation. John Wesley would have included in it a desire "to flee the wrath to come." This, of course, would presume a belief in hell, or some form of unpleasant afterlife. Christians are divided on that matter and we won't try to settle it here.

Certainly, when one looks inward, we discover an assortment of personal struggles from which we earnestly wish to be set free. A powerful statement of this is to be found in the movie Priest, which depicts two priests serving together in a parish in Ireland. The older man has violated the vow of celibacy; the younger priest is gay and develops a relationship with a young man in the parish. So both priests have broken vows and are tormented, each in his own way, with the consequences. The two have widely different ideas of the role of a priest, the young man pre-occupied with sin and judgment, the older man with concern for the suffering people in the parish. But a bond of respect and father and son love grows between them as each struggles with his private torments. In one unforgettable scene, the young priest, prevented from saving a teen-aged girl from a predatory, molesting father by his vow of confidentiality, cries out his anguish in the direction of a crucifix on the wall of his room. He desperately condemns Jesus for doing nothing while letting a child suffer terribly because of a vow which in this situation makes no sense at all. But then the camera focuses in on the face of the crucified Jesus, the torment mirrored there of one who feels every moment of pain suffered both by the priest and by the young girl. Both priests depict the rest of the world in microcosm: a combination of betrayal and hypocrisy on one hand, yet courage and high-minded faithfulness and sacrifice on the other. Let none of us cast the first stone. All of us are caught up in this human condition, assaulted by temptation, sometimes standing tall amid the inner and outer storms that beset us, at other times compromising, failing, giving in. A careful reading of the New Testament reveals that this is certainly true of its main characters except Jesus. Surely "salvation" refers to access given us to forgiveness and new strength and hope for tomorrow.

There's much more to this deeply moving film. The point here is to use it as a way of pointing to the fact that Jesus shares our every pain and torment, then to reflect that Jesus promises eventual redemption from our indvidual struggles. In part, to be saved is to be set free from our own grief and guilt and hypocrisy, to be welcomed home in peace.

On a lighter note, Charlie Brown spoke a relevant word. One day he went ice skating on a frozen pond, having first bundled up in several sweaters, jackets and coats. He looked like one huge furry ball as he skated out on the ice. And, of course, he soon fell and couldn't get up. Charlie mused that he guessed he'd have to wait there until spring, but Snoopy showed up and pushed Charlie Brown over to a bank where he could grab a bush and pull himself up to safety. At that point, Charlie turned to us and remarked: "It's embarassing, having to be saved." Yes. Perhaps it is embarassing. But it's something we soon learn in life we cannot do for ourselves. Jesus, however, has shown that he has the power to do it for us.

How is this to happen? Peter earlier gave something of an answer when he frankly attributed his own changed life to the Holy Spirit. We can really intermingle several choices of words here: God's power, the Spirit of Jesus, the Holy Spirit. It comes from outside us as a gift. However self-sufficient any of us may feel in ordinary situations, we are not, ultimately, self-sufficient. We're not simply speaking about life after death when we speak of salvation. It refers to a quality of life here and now, something which begins as we accept its truth in our inner being. In that movie, Priest, while the young priest berated Jesus for what seemed his insensitivity to the plight of a suffering young girl, it was also apparent by his very torment that his anger grew out of the faith which sustained him, yet which prevented him from saving the girl himself because of his vows. But the scene would shift briefly, enough to let the viewer know that something of the very miracle for which the priest desperately prayed was actually taking place. Of course, it's only a movie, and moviemakers aren't exactly famous for an understanding of the working of faith. But sometimes it would seem they do. Surely a truth was portrayed here as a man who struggled but clung to his faith and prayed for a "miracle" was to learn that God did not disappoint. And just as the final outcome is left uncertain in the movie, so it seems is the case for us as we gather here. But faith offers this promise, perhaps best expressed by Jesus with these words as recorded by Mark: "The one who endures to the end will be saved."

The famous nineteenth century evangelist Dwight L. Moody once told of the time his father scolded him rather severely for some act of misconduct, though he was basically a kind parent. So Dwight was especially upset and surprised at this anger. However, as he walked by his dad's room a short time later, he heard his voice. He paused to listen and realized his father was praying. He said he heard him pray, "Lord, forgive me for speaking so harshly to my son. You know I love that boy." Moody said he never forgot that insight into his father's love for him and it played a part in Moody's celebrated preaching about a God of love. He said he realized at an early age that if his earthly father loved him that much, how much more he was loved by his heavenly Father.

It's probable that if Jesus was teaching today he'd use Mother as a figure as well as Father to illustrate the loving nature of God. But whatever he taught, it brought about a profound change in Peter and his friends, as it always does to those of us who receive Christ into our hearts. And that change, with all the new powers it sets free in us along with the hope of bright tomorrows here and hereafter, is surely what Peter meant when he said, "There is salvation in no one else."