“Therefore of these men who have accompanied us all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the baptism of John to that day when He was taken from us, one of these must become a witness with us of His resurrection” (Acts 1:21)
Twelve men were selected to match the twelve tribes of Israel, for this was a second and ultimate covenant inaugurated by the Son of God. Somebody would take the place of Judas. The basic qualification was that he had to have witnessed the many miracles the Lord Jesus performed since the inauguration of His ministry and most important of all, to have beheld Him resurrected from death. It was not enough to select someone who could tell about Jesus. He had to be there in person, somebody whose eyes had seen and ears had heard the Word of God, Jesus Christ.
Since God’s Son came to live and dwell among us, hundreds of thousands of people have spent their lifetimes studying the records of His life on earth. We profit from all sorts of theories. Conversely, countless millions have known but a portion of who He was and is, even having been misled and led away from Him. Millions have an opinion about Him. The true Christian knows Him.
Apostolic succession is a phrase describing those Christian communions that can claim to be descended from the earliest apostles. For some it’s a legal qualification for authenticity as inheritors of grace from the earliest stream. But for us it’s more than that—it’s the inheritance of scared tradition that identifies the bearers as grateful heirs of spiritual gifts that flow in the Church through the centuries.
To read the sacred scriptures as Spirit-filled beneficiaries of apostolic grace is to be warmed in the heart by the same emotions they felt when they were there when He performed mighty deeds in humble ways. To say with St. Peter when told at daybreak to lower his nets into the water once again, “Master, we have toiled all night and caught nothing” (Luke 5:8), only to reluctantly obey, certain it would be for nothing, then to have the net so full of fish that the cords would be broken if they tugged the net too roughly, and to say, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, Lord.” God broke the cords of Peter’s heart at that instant. We can grasp what he had been thinking before then—he knew all about fishing—but he understood nothing about the Spirit within him.
It’s not only the miracle, it’s the humility that accompanies the phenomenon. Jesus said nothing. His silence shouts with eloquence. Consider the time He was moved with compassion for the widow burying her only son. He stopped the funeral procession and turned it back to the village. Grief and the funeral are transformed into great joy and songs of praise. Those who had been there not only never forgot it, they recorded it on our behalf. Who could forget the incident of the awesome centurion whose mere presence caused all Jews to hold their breath and feel their blood pressure increase until he passed, plead like a child on behalf of his servant near death, only to have the humble Lord cure the servant with a mere word. It was no accident that none of the apostles were noted for their learning. Simple men they were, guileless for the most part, quite ordinary as the world would judge them, yet capable of wonder and amazement when One who was indeed unique manifested divinity in His person.