Group: Adult

Paul was in chains, yet he spoke of hope. This wasn’t a vague wish for a better day; it was a “hope in what God has promised.” Often, our greatest trials are directly linked to our greatest convictions. Paul reminds us that hope isn’t a feeling we have when things go well; it’s an anchor we hold onto when things look bleak.

As Bob Stewart, the meteorologist on duty, began to talk to me about the Gospel of Jesus Christ, I began to experience a new kind of hope that my marriage could be healed. It wouldn’t happen overnight, but his confidence in what he knew Jesus could do for me helped me persevere in overcoming a lifestyle of depravity.

It’s amazing what happens when you begin to have hope in something with a strong foundation. As Bob and I talked over the next few months, I grew increasingly comfortable visiting with him. Instead of viewing him as a religious fanatic, I began to see him as a man of integrity with deep convictions.

I had no idea what an important role this man was playing in my life.

Paul doesn’t start his defense with a theological argument; he starts with his life. He acknowledges that his reputation—both the good and the bad—is public knowledge. 

Integrity isn’t about having a perfect past, but about being honest about where you’ve been. When we are transparent about our history, we build credibility.

I hit rock bottom after I publicly disgraced myself by getting drunk and gambling away my paycheck in front of my friends. The worst part came when I had to face my wife when I got home. She was waiting for me to bring her the money I lost so she could go grocery shopping.

Out of that horrible experience, I couldn’t blame anyone but myself. It was then that I realized that the selfish pleasure I was seeking to satisfy my carnal appetite was also destroying my marriage. Something had to change.

My failure forced me to come out of the darkness of denial and begin facing the reality that my addictions to alcohol and gambling had me in bondage. A few weeks later, God brought a man into my life who loved Jesus and started sharing his faith with me. 

I didn’t realize it at the time, but the power of the Gospel of Jesus Christ was preparing me for an event that would transform my life and change me forever.

In this passage, Governor Festus is discussing Paul’s case with King Agrippa. Throughout this section of Acts, more and more people keep entering the conversation — Ananias the High Priest, Felix and his wife Drusilla, Festus, and now King Agrippa and his wife Bernice. What began as an accusation before the Jewish leadership is now being discussed among governors and kings. I can understand the confusion of the governing officials. This man, who seems to have done nothing wrong, has stirred the Jewish leadership into a tizzy. In this and many ways, Paul’s life reflects the life of Jesus.

I wonder what would happen in our culture and in our context if we lived lives so bold that our message of hope reached pockets of authority. What if the principals in our kids’ schools were talking about the message of Jesus because our children were bold in their faith? What if our bosses went home and told their spouses that they heard someone praying with a coworker? What if our love and faith were so transparent that the stories went further and further out among our spheres of influence?

I think what often gets in my way is my own insecurity or pride. I either want to shy away from being bold in my faith, or when I attempt to be bold, I am actually trying to draw attention to myself instead of to Jesus. It is only when I am truly abiding in Jesus that I see the appointed moments to act in boldness that bring the most glory, and the most attention, to Him.

How can we be bold in our spheres of influence?

May our obedience in the smallest step forward have true Kingdom impact as we boldly share the hope at the center of our faith: Jesus is alive.

This is a significant turning point in Paul’s story. You may remember that when Paul was first on trial in Jerusalem in Acts 23, in the middle of being beaten by a mob, the Roman authorities intervened and took him into custody. Later, when they were about to question him by flogging, Paul told the officials that he was a Roman citizen. Because of this, they realized they could not proceed as planned. As a Roman citizen, Paul has rights that not everyone living in the Roman Empire has. One example of these rights is the right to a Roman trial and the right to appeal. Paul is exercising this right by appealing to Caesar.

My husband Josh and I were discussing this section of Scripture, and he pointed out that each time Paul stands trial, he has an opportunity to share his story and the gospel with the crowd as well as officials. Paul has been told that he will suffer¹ and that he will go to Rome². Instead of operating in fear, or even rebellion, he presses into what he has been called to do. Paul has now guaranteed that he will have opportunity after opportunity to stand trial, and in turn, opportunity after opportunity to share the good news of Jesus Christ with governing officials all over the Roman Empire.

Instead of seeing each trial as a chance to defend his innocence, Paul uses it as an opportunity to share the message of hope and forgiveness through Jesus Christ.

Have you responded with hope and forgiveness when someone has accused you or misunderstood your intentions? This is very difficult, but through the power of the Holy Spirit in us, it is possible.

May we use each opportunity before us to join in what God is doing.

  

1. Acts 9:16
2. Acts 23:11

This is such an interesting and subtle note that Luke, the author of Acts, makes here at the end of Acts 24. Paul spends two years living in Caesarea at Herod’s Palace under military monitoring, but he is still able to receive guests and meet regularly with Felix. This is not necessarily Paul’s choice, but I would venture to guess that through the power of the Holy Spirit, Paul is obediently doing kingdom work in this season.

There are times in my life when I was, not by my own choice, in a season of waiting. I can tell you, I did not move through those seasons with the grace and patience I imagine Paul did. During one season of waiting in particular, I did not see waiting as an opportunity to share the gospel with those around me. I did not see it as a time of refinement and possibly even rest. I was angry and bitter. Resentment grew. Fear of missed opportunities built up instead of faith in the Lord. When I look back on that season, I see now that God was giving me slowness and refreshment, and I wish I had trusted Him enough then to see it and receive it.

I can’t go back now and change my reaction, but I absolutely know there will be another season of waiting. Someday I might be waiting for healing, for a mended relationship, for a wayward child to come home, or for a longed-for grandchild. I don’t know what will come, but I know it will. My hope is that next time I will wait with joy and reverence with the Counselor guiding me through instead of relying on my own strength.

Are you in a season of waiting? Is there room for you to rely more on God in something you are waiting for?

May each waiting season be a testament to God’s goodness, mercy, and perfect timing.

In Acts 24 we read that in the midst of Paul’s defense before Governor Felix, he is not reverting to blame, giving in to fear, or shying away from hardship. He walks forward each step of the way in pursuit of Jesus and obediently shares the Gospel before Jew and Gentile alike.

There is a phrase I heard a pastor use quite a few years ago that inserted itself into my mind, and slowly, through the power of the Holy Spirit, into my pattern of life: “Keep your lists short.”

I can’t quite remember the context in which this phrase was used, but it has morphed to fit into a multitude of personal contexts. The most common way this phrase has helped center me is in the context of relationships. When there is something I have been convicted of and I need to extend an apology, it is important for me to go to that person as quickly as possible. I want to keep that list short. If my husband has done something to upset me, my pattern is to take a moment to move through the emotional reaction I am having, and when that has subsided, go to my husband to discuss the issue at hand. I don’t do this perfectly every time, but because of this pattern, my husband and I experience what Paul teaches in 1 Corinthians 13: that “love does not keep a record of wrongs.”

This pattern has two benefits that I can think of immediately. First, it allows my relationships to thrive and grow in freedom and trust. Second, which is closely linked to the first, it does not give the enemy time to take these small things and spin lies that turn them into big things. The people who know me best can tell you, I still have room for improvement in this area. But this pattern, or spiritual practice, is something I have walked with the Holy Spirit in for many years.

What can we do this week to align our lives with Paul’s model of keeping our lists short? Is the Holy Spirit stirring you to forgive, seek forgiveness or resolve an issue so that your conscience is “clear before God and man”?

It takes courage to ask for correction and direction in this way. May we be so aligned with Christ that this courage comes quickly and naturally.

We read these verses at the end of the dramatic events of Acts 23. After claiming the protection he had as a Roman citizen earlier in Acts, Paul and the Roman officials learn of yet another plot on his life. In order to outsmart the conspirators and transport Paul safely to the next stage of his trial, he is given a large military escort.

When he arrives in Caesarea, he is given a place to stay. He is not placed in a prison, a simple home, or with friends. Instead, he is kept under guard in Herod’s palace.

I want you to take just a moment and look up a historical rendering of Herod’s palace in Caesarea.

I’ll wait.

Okay, now you have a picture in your mind.

Can you imagine it? Paul had slept in ships, prisons, and strangers’ homes. He had traveled through small villages, busy cities, and some of the largest metropolitan centers of his time. Now he finds himself staying in one of the most beautiful palaces in the region, under the protection and guard of Roman leadership.

Amusingly, I like to imagine Paul walking in — perhaps disheveled and travel-worn, yet full of curiosity and joy — looking around this grand palace while being shown his quarters. Of all the things God orchestrated in his life, this moment might have been among the most surprising. And yet, even while staying in this palace, Paul was not delivered from his trial. He was still under guard and awaiting accusations. The difficulty had not disappeared.

In the midst of some of the most trying and difficult times of my life, God has protected me, surrounded me, led me, and surprised me, just as He did throughout the life of Paul. As we talked about on Sunday morning, God is fighting our battles for us, and sometimes He even delivers us to palaces.

How has God surprised you recently? Where might He be working in ways you did not expect?

Today, may we walk with hope and humility, trusting that God is working in our lives — even in the midst of difficulty — and may we remain open to the surprising ways He provides, protects, and leads us.

After finding common ground with the crowd, Paul begins to share his story. He tells them about the moment everything changed for him on the road to Damascus. As Paul traveled, a bright light from Heaven suddenly flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice say, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” When Paul asked who was speaking, the answer came back: “I am Jesus of Nazareth, whom you are persecuting.”

In that moment, Paul realized everything he thought he understood was wrong. The very one he had been opposing was actually the Lord. His life changed direction because he encountered Jesus. Instead of arguing with the crowd or trying to prove a point, Paul simply shared what had happened to him.

My story looks different from Paul’s, but it still centers on a moment of decision. I was raised in the church and grew up with a foundation of knowing the Lord. I believed in Jesus, but growing up, my faith was something I mostly kept to myself. When I got to college, things changed. Without the support of my family around me, I had to ask the question for myself: what do I actually believe? Was I going to live for myself, or was I going to live for Jesus? At some point, every person has to wrestle with that question for themselves.

Paul understood that stories like this matter because they point people to Jesus. Every follower of Christ has a story of how God has been at work in their life. It may not involve a bright light on a road like Paul’s did, but God uses our stories to show others who He is and what it looks like to follow Him.

When Paul was finally given the chance to speak to the crowd, he had every reason to be defensive. Just moments earlier they had dragged him out of the temple and were beating him. Yet when Paul begins to speak, his tone is striking. He starts with the words, “Brothers and fathers, listen now to my defense.” Rather than treating the crowd like enemies, Paul addresses them with respect.

Paul then begins to identify with them. He reminds them that he is a Jew, born in Tarsus but raised in Jerusalem. He tells them he was trained under Gamaliel, one of the most respected teachers of the Law, and that he was once just as zealous for God as they were. In fact, he had once persecuted followers of Jesus himself. Before Paul ever shares his testimony, he builds a connection. He shows the crowd that he understands them because he once stood where they stand.

There is wisdom in this. When we interact with people who disagree with us—or even oppose us—it can be easy to focus only on our differences. But Paul models a different approach. He begins with what they have in common. Often, the most meaningful conversations start not by highlighting what separates us, but by recognizing shared ground. When we approach people with humility and respect, it opens the door for them to actually hear what we have to say.

Most of us know what it feels like to be misunderstood. You try to do the right thing, but someone misreads your intentions. You try to help, but your actions are misinterpreted. Suddenly, you find yourself explaining something you never meant or defending motives that were actually good. It can be frustrating and discouraging when people misunderstand what you were trying to do.

Something similar happened to Paul in Jerusalem. After going out of his way to show respect for Jewish customs, Paul went to the temple as the leaders had suggested. But some Jews from Asia saw him there and began stirring up the crowd. They accused him of teaching against the Law and even claimed he had brought a Gentile into the temple. The accusations spread quickly, and soon the whole city was in an uproar. The crowd seized Paul, dragged him out of the temple, and began beating him until Roman soldiers stepped in to stop the violence.

What makes this moment so striking is what had just happened. Paul had participated in the purification ritual precisely to avoid causing offense. Yet even after trying to do the right thing, he was still misunderstood and attacked.

This passage reminds us that loving people faithfully does not always lead to the response we hope for. Sometimes our motives will be questioned and our actions misinterpreted. But our calling is not to control how people respond. Our calling is simply to remain faithful—to love, to serve, and to continue pointing people to Christ even when it is difficult.