Christ at the Center of Our Suffering (1 Peter 3:18–22)
Peter never lets his readers stay long staring at themselves. Every time he raises the reality of suffering, he immediately lifts their eyes to Christ. He does this not once, not twice, but three times in the letter. Why? Because Christians don’t survive hostility by looking inward. Our strength is not in ourselves but in One who is outside of us.
Suppose our eyes stay fixed on our own experience of suffering. In that case, we will inevitably slip into despair, and when we evaluate ourselves by how we think we’re doing in the middle of suffering, we always come up short.
Peter refuses to let us stay there; rather, He pulls us back to Christ. His point is this: Christ isn’t simply a model for how to suffer. Christ is the power that sustains us in suffering.
Here in 1 Peter 3:18–22, he anchors weary believers in four great realities:
Christ suffered (v.18), Christ preached (vv.19–20), Christ saves (vv.20–21), and Christ reigns (v.22). Each of these truths confronts our temptation to despair and replaces it with gospel confidence.
Christ Suffering (v.18)
Peter begins with the cross: “For Christ also hath once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God.”
This single verse is a mountain of gospel truth.
Notice four parts:
The finality of His suffering — “once.”
In the old covenant, sacrifices were repeated daily, monthly, and yearly. The blood of bulls and goats could cover sin, but never remove it, but Peter says Jesus suffered once. His death was unique, unrepeatable, and completely sufficient.
For exiles whose trials felt never-ending, Peter reminds them: the most important suffering, the suffering for sin, is already finished.
The object of His suffering — “for sins.”
Christ’s suffering wasn’t random or senseless. He didn’t die as a tragic victim of injustice or as a mere political martyr. He died as a sacrifice for sin, bearing the penalty, wrath, and judgment that sin deserved. Our suffering, real as it is, cannot atone for sin, but Christ’s suffering did.
(The substitution in His suffering — “the just for the unjust.”
Here, Peter uses the language of the great exchange. The innocent was condemned so the guilty might be freed. Peter knew what it meant personally, the one who had denied Jesus three times was carried into God’s presence by the very Christ he had failed. The unjust were brought to God by the unjust suffering of a just Saviour
The purpose of His suffering — “that he might bring us to God.”
Sin exiled us, but Christ’s death brings us home. Though we are exiles in this world, we have been brought from an exile of sin into the presence of God. The purpose of the cross is not merely to inspire endurance, but to reconcile rebels to the Father.
For suffering Christians, this means you can never interpret hardship as evidence that God is against you. Christ has brought you to Him, and He cannot be against you, any more than He can be against the only begotten Son.
Christ Preaching (vv.19–20)
Now Peter moves into one of the most difficult passages in Scripture:
“By which also he went and preached unto the spirits in prison…”
Interpretations on this text abound. Did Christ descend to hell to preach to the dead? Did He proclaim victory to fallen angels? Or did He, by the Spirit, preach through Noah to a rebellious generation?
I would argue that the third option seems to fit Peter’s flow best.
Let me explain why.
Verse 18 says Christ was “made alive by the Spirit.” Verse 19 continues, “by which [the Spirit] also he went and preached.” Peter seems to be tracing one line of action – the Spirit’s activity through Christ. The same Spirit that He was made Him alive is the same Spirit by which He preached.
Verse 20 roots this preaching in the days of Noah, “while the ark was a preparing.” This seems to point us back to Genesis 6–7, not to a descent into the underworld.
Additionally, Peter already said in 1:11 that “the Spirit of Christ” spoke through the prophets, and in 2:12 that the good works of Christians function as a testimony to the world. Paul says in Ephesians 2:17 that Christ “came and preached peace” to Gentiles, though Christ Himself never physically traveled to them.
How? By the Spirit, through His messengers.
So what’s the point? In Noah’s day, while he endured ridicule and rejection, Christ Himself was preaching through him by the Spirit. And now, in Peter’s day, while the church endures ridicule and rejection, Christ is still preaching by the Spirit through His suffering people.
This changes everything.
Your endurance is not wasted, and your suffering isn’t just personal; it’s missional. The apostle is making the point that the patience of Noah as he built the ark was itself a sermon, the patient endurance of exiles in Asia Minor was a sermon, and the faithfulness of Christians today under pressure is still a sermon.
The world may ignore our words and dismiss our beliefs, but when they see hope in suffering, peace under attack, and blessing instead of retaliation, they are forced to reckon with the reality of Christ who still preaches through His people. This is why the Apostle has already instructed them to be ready to explain their hope (v.13), and He is assuring them that He will be proclaiming Himself through them.
Christ Saving (vv.20–21)
Here, Peter shifts to the flood narrative, but he does this to continue explaining the point that he has been making.
He writes that eight souls were saved “by water” or better, “through water.” The floodwaters were both judgment and deliverance: they judged the world but lifted the ark.
Peter calls this an “antitype” or a foreshadowing of baptism. “The like figure whereunto even baptism doth also now save us.” At first glance, this may rock your theology. Does Peter mean baptism saves us?
No, because he clarifies immediately: “not the putting away of the filth of the flesh, but the answer of a good conscience toward God.”
Baptism is not a magical prerequisite to salvation, nor is water baptism actually doing the saving; rather, baptism points to union with Christ — to being buried with Him in death and raised with Him in resurrection.
It is this union that gives believers a “good conscience.”
Why? Because the penalty has been paid, and the verdict has already been rendered. Because in Christ, there is no condemnation.
This fits the biblical pattern of water as both judgment and salvation:
- In Genesis 1, life emerged from watery chaos.
- In Genesis 7, Noah’s family was lifted above the judgment waters.
- In Exodus 14, Israel passed through the Red Sea while Pharaoh’s army drowned.
- In Joshua 3, Israel crossed the Jordan into the promised land.
At each point in the narrative of redemption, water symbolized both the end of the old and the beginning of the new, and the apostle is claiming that baptism ties the believer into that story.
For suffering Christians, baptism is a reminder that their identity is settled, and the conscience cleansed by Christ’s blood cannot be re-stained by the world’s slander. The waters that once represented judgment now declare salvation.
In a real sense, when the world mocks, baptism answers, and when Satan or even our conscience accuses, baptism testifies: “I have been buried with Christ. I have been raised with Christ. My conscience is clear because my union is sure.”
Christ Reigning (v.22)
Finally, Peter lifts our gaze from the floodwaters to the heavenlies. He writes that Christ is “gone into heaven, and is on the right hand of God; angels and authorities and powers being made subject unto him.”
This is not merely a future hope but a present reality. The crucified and risen Christ is enthroned. All powers, whether angelic, demonic, or human, are subject to Him.
For exiles, living under the shadow and sometimes under the boot of Rome, this truth mattered. Caesar had claimed ultimate authority, and the empire seemed unshakable. Yet Peter says the real throne is occupied by Christ, not Caesar and the real power lies not in Rome, but in heaven.
For Christians today, the same holds. Governments rise and fall, Cultural hostility grows and fades, but above it all sits Christ — enthroned, reigning, and unthreatened.