And having laid many stripes upon them they cast [them] into prison, charging the jailor to keep them safely;
The magistrates at Philippi had Paul and Silas beaten in public and locked away. The verse lists many blows, a prison, and an order to the jailer — and it raises one hard question: why did God allow this?
The beating was not the end of a legal process; it came instead of one. The men who ordered it were the ones breaking the law:
It is certain that they gave the command to beat them with rods, though the men had not been condemned. This was an open violation of Roman law. It left the magistrates themselves open to severe punishment, if anyone had brought proceedings against them.
Paul had a way out. The slave girl's spirit kept calling him a servant of the Most High God. He could have let that praise stand.
True, Paul might have saved himself. He might have been an honoured man, owned and acknowledged as "a servant of the Most High God." He only had to accept the slave girl's testimony and let the devil help him in his work. But he could not do this, and so he had to suffer.
The order was to hold them securely. The jailer went further — the inner cell, the stocks. One writer takes that as a window into the man himself:
They were brought to the prison, with a charge that the jailer would "keep them safely." But we are told that "he put them into the inner prison and fastened their feet in the stocks." That shows us they had no favour with the jailer at that time. It is enough to show us the condition of his heart. He did not know God's love, and did not feel it. So his heart had none of that love for fellow believers which always marks those who are born of God.
Judged by appearances, Satan had won. Looked at from God's side, the sentence delivered Paul to an address God had already chosen.
In that particular prison there was a poor soul whom God, in His eternal purpose, had chosen in Christ. He was therefore the object of God's mercy and grace… But the time had now come, in God's purpose, to bring this hardened soul out of darkness into His marvellous light. The unjust accusations, the violence of the crowd, the illegal action of the magistrates — these were simply the instruments for carrying out God's purpose. By these means the word of the gospel reached the jailer's home, for the blessing of himself and his household. In everything he had done, Satan was only the blind instrument of God's will.
Count the results of that riot, and the arithmetic runs against the people who started it:
But God makes use of all this to direct the progress of His own work and give it the form He pleases. There is the jailer to be converted, and the magistrates themselves are to confess their wrong towards the messengers of God. The assembly is gathered out, a flock (as the letter written to them shows) full of love and affection… The enemy was mistaken here. If he stopped their work at Philippi, he sent the apostles to preach elsewhere.
By midnight, the men with the wounded backs were praying and singing, and the other prisoners were listening. Commentators return to that scene for what it teaches about where joy actually comes from:
Faith can sing as sweetly in a dungeon as at a prayer meeting. It does not matter where we are, as long as we have God with us. His presence lights up the darkest cell and turns a dungeon into the very gate of Heaven. He can make His servants happy anywhere. He can give them victory over the most hostile circumstances. He can make them shout for joy where human nature would be overwhelmed with sorrow.
- Struck. The blows came before any verdict. The magistrates ordered rods for men they had not condemned, and broke the Roman law they were meant to enforce.
- Chosen. Paul could have escaped all of it by accepting the slave girl's testimony and letting the devil help his work. He refused, and the beating was the price.
- Sealed. The order was to keep them safely. The jailer added the inner cell and the stocks. That extra cruelty exposed a heart that had never known God's love.
- Sent. The prison was an address, not an accident. One chosen soul was there, and the injustice carried the gospel into his house.
- Sung. Faith can sing in a dungeon, because God's presence turns it into the gate of Heaven. The enemy's apparent win converted a jailer, shamed the magistrates, and gathered a church.
who, having received such a charge, cast them into the inner prison, and secured their feet to the stocks.
The jailer here does more than his orders require. He picks the deepest cell and the stocks, and locks himself in with the message that will save him.
The word behind "stocks" describes a wooden frame that clamped the legs, and it appears elsewhere in Scripture as an instrument of affliction.
Stocks in which the feet were shut up. Job 13:27; Job 33:11; Acts 16:24.
The "inner prison" was the innermost cell, past the guards — the hardest place to escape from and the worst place to be. One writer fills in what that meant for two men whose backs had just been torn open:
Not content with putting them into the inner prison, he placed their feet fast in the stocks. Their backs were cut and bleeding. They were weak from loss of blood. This was a horrible Eastern prison of the first century, very likely with no daylight, overrun with vermin, and with no sanitation at all. Their feet were fast in the stocks, which held them in one position. It allowed neither comfort, rest, nor sleep.
His orders were to keep them secure. What he did went further, and reads like a man enjoying his work.
The jailer seems to take a brutal pleasure in his treatment of them. He does not say, "Come along; I am sorry I must lock you up." Instead he appears to serve the master he had then with delight. He "put them into the inner prison and fastened their feet in the stocks."
The cell and the stocks came at the end of a process with no legal footing. The beating came before any trial.
It is certain that they ordered the men to be beaten with rods, though no court had condemned them. That was an open violation of Roman law. If anyone had brought a case, the magistrates themselves would have faced severe punishment.
The injustice was not left buried. Later the magistrates tried to release the two men quietly, and Paul refused to slip away.
But now that they had endured this, it was right that one thing be proved. Paul and Silas were not evildoers, justly punished with scourging and prison and the stocks. The guardians of the law were the guilty ones. Their unrighteousness against the preachers of the gospel was flagrant, obvious, and inexcusable.
It looks as if the enemy had won and the mission was over. Commentators point instead to one soul inside that prison.
To all appearance, Satan had gained a notable victory. But why did the Lord allow His servants to be beaten like this? The answer comes in what follows. There was a poor soul in that prison. In the eternal counsels of God he had been chosen in Christ, and so he was the object of God's mercy and grace... The unjust accusations, the violent crowd, the illegal action of the magistrates — these were only the means of accomplishing God's purpose. By them the word of the gospel came into the home of the jailer.
The one who drove this attack got the opposite of what he wanted.
How little the devil expected such a result from the imprisonment of the Lord's servants! He was outwitted. The tables turned on him. He meant to hinder the gospel, and look — he was made to help it on. He hoped to get rid of two of Christ's servants, and instead he lost one of his own.
In that cell the stocks did not have the last word.
What are stripes or stocks, or prison walls, or gloomy nights? They are only a dark background that makes the living grace in them shine out, bright and beautiful. Talk of circumstances! It is little any of us know of trying circumstances. The small annoyances of daily life are often more than enough to make us lose our balance. Paul and Silas were in trying circumstances indeed.
Paul later wrote to the believers at Philippi about his chains. They already knew what his chains could do.
His chains had become a way of reaching men in the highest positions. The believers knew this already. When he was with them at Philippi, he could sing praise after being thrown into the inner prison, and there his chains became the way of reaching a sinner at the lowest social level. The stocks, the dungeon, and the midnight darkness all served to carry the gospel further.
- The stocks — feet clamped fast in the deepest cell. His orders were to keep them secure. He went further, and made them as uncomfortable as he could.
- The injustice — men beaten before any trial, an open breach of Roman law. Paul would not let the magistrates bury it quietly.
- The target — the enemy seemed to have shut down the work. But the one soul God was after was already inside that prison.
- The song — stripes, stocks and midnight did not silence them. They became the dark background that showed off the grace in them.
- The result — the enemy meant to cost the gospel two servants, and lost one of his own instead. The stocks carried the message into the jailer's house.
And at midnight Paul and Silas, in praying, were praising God with singing, and the prisoners listened to them.
At Philippi, Paul and Silas had been beaten, thrown into prison, and locked in the stocks. How could two men in that state spend midnight praying and singing, and what did the other prisoners hear?
That jail had heard plenty of noise at night. One writer sets the usual sound beside this one.
Prisoners had no doubt shouted many curses in that place. They were powerless to do more than curse, or to threaten those who had imprisoned them. But with Paul and Silas how different! For "at midnight they prayed and sang praises to God." Prayer might not seem out of place. But praises — who would have expected them? These were clearly no weak efforts to cheer each other up, or to put a brave face on their troubles. For the prisoners heard them. Those whose feet were fast in the stocks, unable to move or even shift their position, were the freest in spirit that night.
One Greek word lies behind "singing hymns." Older translations render it "sang praises." The same word turns up in two other scenes.
Singing and praise belong together. At the first Lord's Supper they "sang a hymn" — the Greek word is hymneo — Matthew 26:30. Translators render the same word "sang praises" to God when Paul and Silas were in prison, Acts 16:25. And the Lord sings praise among His people, Psalm 22:22; Hebrews 2:12.
The verse names two things they did: they prayed, and they sang. One writer sees in that pair the work of a priest.
Suppose someone had passed by outside that night, not knowing the circumstances. He would have concluded that they were having a good time in there. But what were the facts? The stocks held their feet fast. Their backs were sore and bleeding from the beating they had received. They were hungry, cold, and without comfort — and yet they were not only praying, but praising. They were showing the character of holy priests, and were soon to act as royal priests. As holy priests they were turning to God in prayer and intercession, and offering up to Him praise and thanksgiving. They were able to thank and bless the Lord in the worst circumstances.
The verse does not record what they asked for. One writer pictures the prayer men like this would make.
I do not think their prayer was, "Lord, let us out." I believe they prayed, "Lord, turn this to Your glory. Turn this to the salvation of souls. Turn this to the blessing of precious souls in this prison. And, O Lord, keep those who have believed, and especially Lydia — keep them firm."
The verse ends by noting that the prisoners were listening. To Roman ears, the sound was something new.
What a new sound it must have been! Suppose it had happened in a Christian land — however poorly any land deserves that name. We would think of the memories such a sound would stir in even the hardest hearts. But here there were no memories to stir. It was a new gospel of gladness going out, which those old Romans knew nothing of in such circumstances. They could die well, as we know. They faced death stern and grim, with a song on their lips too, as heroes and patriots. But all that was inspiration from earthly sources, and nothing strange to men. Here was inspiration of another kind. It was a new sound, not of this world, and it held the listeners by its confidence and joy in a God they could not see.
The jail looked like the enemy's victory. One writer reads that night the other way round.
Satan had stirred up the city against these servants of the Lord. He thought he had won a great victory by getting them imprisoned. But God would have the glory over the enemy, and so He filled the mouths of Paul and Silas with praise in the very seat of the enemy's power. God had given them songs in the night. Those songs went up like sweet incense before His throne, and a testimony went with them that bore fruit for eternity.
- Pain. Bleeding backs, a locked cell, feet in stocks, midnight. Nothing in the setting explains the sound that came out of it.
- Prayer. Prison walls could not hold their prayers in. One writer thinks they asked for God's glory and for the new believers, not for release.
- Praise. One Greek word covers the hymn at the Lord's Supper and the song the Lord sings among His people. This is worship, not a way to keep spirits up.
- Priesthood. Prayer for others and praise to God is the work of a holy priest. The worst circumstances do not stop it.
- Prisoners. Someone was always listening. A joy the Roman world knew nothing of became a testimony that bore fruit for eternity.
And suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison shook, and all the doors were immediately opened, and the bonds of all loosed.
Paul and Silas were praying and singing in the prison at Philippi, and God answered from under the building. Commentators see more here than a natural disaster: power aimed so exactly that it freed every prisoner and hurt no one, and started the rescue of one hard man.
The shaking follows straight on from the prayer and singing in verse 25. One writer sees two earthquakes in the one event — one in the ground, one in a conscience.
While others slept and darkness covered the place, these two devoted servants of God kept crying out in prayer for the testimony of Christ. God heard them, and He answered in a remarkable way... He answered the faith and confidence of His servants by an earthquake — not one earthquake, I think, but two. There was a physical earthquake, which shook the prison at Philippi to its foundations. But it became the means of a moral earthquake in the soul of this poor godless pagan jailer.
Two details rule out coincidence. The first is what the quake did not do.
Could any facts show more clearly whose purpose and hand had worked for His injured ministers? Men could easily argue that an earthquake might happen, and with the most remarkable coincidence of circumstances. But who ever heard of an earthquake so great that it shook the foundations of a large building — not just windows or walls, not just chains or bolts? And all of it so finely adjusted that it threw down nothing and injured no one!
The second detail is the last clause of the verse. Shaking can burst a door open; it cannot unlock a man from his chains.
If nothing more had happened, unbelief might have argued that the earthquake was only a common, natural event. It could have claimed the quake had no direct link with the hand of God, or with the imprisonment of Paul and Silas. But the account adds, "everyone's bonds were unfastened." No violence of an earthquake could produce that result. Only God stepping in directly could.
One writer notes other earthquakes in Scripture and reads them all one way.
On each of these occasions the Lord Himself chose to show by outward signs that He was present. He approved the testimony His servants were bearing in His name. The Lord Jesus was speaking from heaven. It was His voice... giving strength and encouragement to His witnesses, and blessing His servants with clear tokens of His love and care.
The man who had chained Paul's feet was now in God's hands.
God's power has no limits, in mercy or in judgment. This time He would show it in grace... That all-powerful arm could justly have been raised with the sword of vengeance. It could have pierced the heart of the man who had dared to chain the feet of His dear servants, and hurled him at once to the pit of eternal destruction. But mercy triumphed over judgment.
The strangest thing in the story is what the freed prisoners did with their freedom.
These men would otherwise have wanted nothing more than to escape and go back to their lawless life. Yet they were so overawed that not one stirred from the opened prison. It was the God of all grace who answered the prayers and praises of His prisoners. He knew how to control the wicked, and He was guiding His servants for His glory.
Paul stayed put. That tells us something about how to read our circumstances.
Suppose Paul had not been in full communion with the mind and heart of Christ. He would surely have turned to Silas and said, "Now is the moment for us to escape."... But no; Paul knew better... The claims of truth had brought him into prison; the activities of grace kept him there. Providence opened the door; but faith refused to walk out. People talk of being guided by Providence; but if Paul had been so guided, the jailer would never have been a jewel in his crown.
The shaking reached one man in particular, and it woke him twice over.
God had intervened on behalf of His servants. Yes, and better still, the shock woke the jailer in two ways. First, from his bodily sleep; second, praise God, from his soul's slumber. The shock opened his eyes, and he asked that question of all questions, "What must I do to be saved?"
- Praise first. The earthquake comes as God's answer to two men singing in the dark; He heard their prayer and replied.
- Power, aimed. Foundations moved, yet nothing fell and no one was hurt. Loosed chains showed a hand behind the shock.
- Mercy, not vengeance. God could have used that power in judgment on the man who chained His servants; He used it in grace.
- Freedom, refused. Every door stood open and no prisoner ran. Paul stayed, because grace held him where truth had brought him.
- One soul, awake. The quake shook a building so it could shake a conscience. The jailer woke from sleep, and from his soul's sleep, to ask how to be saved.
And the jailor being awakened out of his sleep, and seeing the doors of the prison opened, having drawn a sword was going to kill himself, thinking the prisoners had fled.
At midnight an earthquake throws the prison at Philippi open, and the jailer wakes to see every door standing wide. His first thought is not escape but suicide — so what was he afraid of, and why did God let him come that close to the edge?
His reaction looks extreme until you know the law he lived under, and the habit of the city he lived in.
The jailer wakes up. He realises the doors are open. In a minute he says to himself, "They are all gone; my life is forfeited." He draws his sword, and is about to commit suicide. He knows they will take his life in the morning, for that was the Roman law. If a jailer allowed a prisoner to escape, he had to forfeit his life for the man he had let go. Historians tell us that Philippi was the most remarkable place for suicides. It was quite the fashion, and this poor man was about to launch himself into eternity.
Notice where his mind runs first: to the authorities and what they will do to him. The shock woke him without changing him.
His reaction proves very plainly that the earthquake, and everything that came with it, had not touched his heart. He naturally supposed, when he saw the doors open, that the prisoners were all gone. He could not imagine many prisoners sitting still in jail with the doors open and their chains loose. And then what was to become of him if the prisoners were gone? How could he face the authorities? Impossible. Anything but that. Death, even by his own hand, was preferable to that.
Commentators differ on how far the earthquake reached. Another writer sees the man's conscience owning God's hand, and then his mind sliding to the worst conclusion:
He awoke out of sleep; his conscience owned it as God's dealing. His first feeling was despair and self-destruction. His heart sank and terror filled his mind. His imagination drew the most hopeless conclusion, and Satan's last effort with him was the foul suggestion, "Kill yourself."
The whole crisis rests on a mistake: the prisoners had not gone. The open door looked like God's own invitation to Paul, and he still refused it.
Suppose Paul had not been in full communion with the mind and heart of Christ. He would surely have turned to Silas and said, "Now is the moment for us to escape. God has clearly appeared for us and set an open door before us. If there was ever an opening of divine providence, surely this is one." But no; Paul knew better. He was in the full current of his blessed Master's thoughts, and in full sympathy with his Master's heart. So he made no move to escape. The claims of truth had brought him into prison; the activities of grace kept him there. Providence opened the door; but faith refused to walk out. People talk of being guided by providence; but if Paul had been guided that way, the jailer would never have been a jewel in his crown.
The same God who sent the earthquake could have turned that power against the man who chained His servants' feet. He did not.
God's power is unlimited, both in mercy and in judgment. In this case He would show it in grace. He who struck Saul with blindness and brought him to the Saviour's feet could also bring the jailer there. That all-powerful arm might justly have lifted the sword of vengeance. It could have pierced the heart of the man who dared to chain the feet of His dear servants, and hurled him at once to the pit of eternal destruction. But mercy triumphed over judgment.
How close he came is part of the story — and not only his story.
He was that near to eternal ruin. How often it has happened in the history of souls that they came to the utmost extremity just as grace was about to appear for them.
- Fear: Roman law made his life answer for any escaped prisoner, so open doors meant a death sentence.
- Hardness: An earthquake can shake a prison and leave a heart untouched. His first thought was the authorities, not God.
- Assumption: His despair rested on a lie. The prisoners had not fled, because faith refused to use the open door.
- Mercy: The same power that could have struck down the man who chained God's servants saved him instead.
- Timing: God often brings a soul to the very end of itself just as grace is about to appear.
But Paul called out with a loud voice, saying, Do thyself no harm, for we are all here.
A prison shaken open, a keeper with a drawn sword, and a voice calling out of the dark — this is the moment the Philippian jailer's life turns. Two questions arise: why had none of the prisoners run, and why would Paul care whether his jailer lived?
Roman law stood behind the drawn sword. Behind the sword stood eternity.
Under Roman law, letting a prisoner escape meant death. He knew that death stared him in the face. He was about to send his own soul into eternity by killing himself. Then Paul cried with a loud voice, "Do not harm yourself, for we are all here." These words saved him from physical death. But a far deeper question now troubled him. With the drawn sword in his hand he had stood on the very edge of eternity. His sleeping soul had woken up to its desperate need.
The doors stood open, yet Paul could still say "we are all here."
Here a deeper purpose was in hand, and a great earthquake announced it. Paul and Silas had been praying to God in hymns, and they stayed in the prison to declare His wonderful works. Yes, these other men would naturally have wanted most of all to escape and go back to their lawless life. Yet they were so overawed that not one moved from the opened prison. It was the God of all grace who answered the prayers and praises of His prisoners. He knew how to control the wicked, and He was guiding His servants for His glory.
How did Paul know what the jailer was about to do? Commentators point to knowledge that did not come from sight.
Paul, we should notice, was not in the same room as the jailer. So he could not have seen that the man was about to kill himself. But in some way — God taught him — he saw the trap Satan was laying for this poor soul. He cried with a loud voice, "Do not harm yourself, for we are all here." The jailer was snatched first from death, and what had happened marked his soul so deeply that he saw more than a human hand in it.
The earthquake woke the man. Something else got past his hardness, and it came from the prisoner he had mistreated.
But notice how beautifully the grace of God stepped in. He heard the voice of God's servant, the man he had treated so harshly a few hours before, saying, "Do not harm yourself, for we are all here." See the effect on this man. The earthquake woke him out of his sleep. Yet I do not think it was the earthquake that touched his conscience. It was this: he heard a man he had treated so brutally, only hours before, calling to him in the most tender, loving way, and stopping him from taking his own life, which he would otherwise have done. Is that not a lovely word for every sinner, "Do not harm yourself"? How many are harming themselves, fighting against God, fighting against the truth, refusing to bow to Jesus.
What Paul did not say to the jailer matters as much as what he said.
And notice, Paul did not speak one syllable of reproach to the jailer, or even of criticism. This was Christ-like. It was the way of divine grace. If we look through the Gospels, we never find the Lord throwing reproach at the sinner. He has tears of sorrow; He has touching words of grace and tenderness. But no reproaches — no criticism — not one hard word for the poor distressed sinner.
The same night held a song of praise and a shout to a desperate man. One writer calls both of them priestly work.
They had something better — "the excellencies of Him who called them out of darkness into His marvellous light." And where do these excellencies shine out? In those touching words spoken to the jailer, "Do not harm yourself." These were the words of a royal priest, just as the song of praise was the voice of a holy priest. Thank God for both! The voices of the holy priests went straight up to the throne of God and did their work there. The words of the royal priests went straight to the jailer's hard heart and did their work there.
- Sword — Roman law made a jailer pay with his life for escaped prisoners. The open doors looked like his own death sentence.
- Restraint — Every door stood open, yet not one prisoner moved. The God who answered the singing also held the lawless still.
- Voice — The earthquake woke him, but the voice reached his conscience. Paul could not see him, yet he knew.
- Kindness — The words came from the man he had mistreated hours earlier, and carried no reproach. That is the way of divine grace.
- Question — Rescue from death left him facing a deeper question. His sleeping soul had woken to its desperate need.
And having asked for lights, he rushed in, and, trembling, fell down before Paul and Silas.
Midnight in a Philippi prison: an earthquake has opened the doors, and the jailer has drawn his sword on himself. A voice from the dark stops him, and this verse shows what he does next.
He had just faced ruin and death without flinching. What he could not stand was kindness from the men he had mistreated.
This was irresistible. A hardened sinner could meet an earthquake; he could meet death itself; but he could not withstand the mighty melting power of love. The hardest heart must yield to the moral influence of love... And surely there was love in those words, "Do yourself no harm," coming from the lips of one to whom he had done so much harm a few hours before.
Paul had spoken in the dark. How did he know what the jailer was about to do?
It was in the darkness that Paul had spoken, and the jailer must have thought to himself: "How could that prisoner know I was going to kill myself? How could he know what I was doing in the dark?" He had a sense in his soul that God was there. He called for a light. When a man begins to think seriously about the concerns of his soul, he always wants light. And I will tell you another thing. Every soul I have known come out of nature's darkness into the light of the gospel said the same thing as the truth dawned on it: "I begin to see it."
Another light had already reached him before the lamps arrived.
But imagine how this overwhelmed his conscience. The apostle stopped his hand from suicide by calling out loud that all the prisoners were still there! Light from God penetrated his dark heart on the instant, with a deep desire for mercy, before he got the lights he called for. He needed no more hint about where to turn for the truth he wanted... The depths of his soul were broken up. As his sins rose from every hiding place, he felt instinctively that now was the moment to find God.
The trembling was the sign of something starting inside him.
He called for a light, sprang into the inner prison, and trembled with fear. There he was, at the feet of Paul and Silas — the last place he had ever expected to be. Then he brought them out. Was it pity only that now took possession of him, or remorse for his treatment of them? There was more than that. Conscience-work had begun in his soul. He was now fully awake. He felt a need so urgent that it would not wait, and would not let him hide it.
The man with the keys goes down at the feet of his own prisoners.
In that instant the voice of God had spoken to him. The keeper and his captives had changed places. Those words breathed perfect authority, and with them came great mercy to him. That mercy set aside everything self-concern prompts, to care for a careless and hardened persecutor. This struck him with the conviction that God was with these men. He was in their hands, and not they in his. Conscience and heart woke in him together — the sense of sin, and the goodness that drew him after it.
Where he fell matters. It shows who was at work in him.
Light had entered his soul, and it showed him his hopeless condition. We can see the Spirit of God at work here. He was drawn to the feet of men whose mission was to open blind eyes. They were sent to turn people from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God.
Everything that went against Paul and Silas at Philippi ended up serving God's purpose.
But God makes use of all this to direct the progress of His own work and to give it the form He pleases. There is the jailer to convert, and the magistrates themselves must confess their wrong... Paul and Silas sing instead of sleeping quietly. The doors burst open. The jailer himself is converted, and his family too... The enemy was mistaken here.
- Light first. God's light reached his heart before the lamps reached his hand. Calling for a light is the outward sign of a soul that has begun to see.
- Love, not terror. The earthquake shook the building; the words "Do yourself no harm" shook him. Hardness yields to kindness from the person it has wronged.
- Conscience, not just pity. The trembling marks conscience-work begun — a need too urgent to postpone and too real to hide.
- Places swapped. The keeper ends up on the floor before his captives, convinced that God is with them and that he is in their hands.
- Enemy outwitted. The attack that put the preachers in prison ended with the jailer and his whole family saved. The enemy was mistaken.
And leading them out said, Sirs, what must I do that I may be saved?
A few hours earlier, this man had locked Paul and Silas in the inner prison. An earthquake has now opened every door, and he asks them how to be saved — but saved from what, and why will the answer say nothing about doing?
So what did he want saving from? One writer weighs the dangers of that night and finds none of them big enough.
Salvation in any lesser sense is not to be thought of. The earthquake was soon over, the prisoners were all safe; what had he to fear from Roman justice? But God had awakened his soul, and his sins troubled him. He was not facing death from man, but divine judgment at the close of everything. God's servants were there to tell him the way of salvation — the men for whom He had just stepped in with a miracle. Learned men may think what they like. They have never felt the burden of their sins; they catch at words and waste time on doubtful questions. But the jailer's burning anxiety was about the salvation of his soul.
Something shook the building, and something else shook him. One writer separates the two.
I do not think it was the earthquake that converted the jailer. There were two great quakes that night. The earthquake woke the jailer from his sleep. The second one — I had better call it a soul-quake — woke him up to his state before God. It was not the physical danger that did that... That is a picture of what the gospel does. I tell you, it produces a moral earthquake in a man. When you come under the power of the gospel, you collapse. God lays hold of you and reduces you to nothing.
The title he uses is startling from a man who had shown these two no courtesy at all.
The Philippian jailer was awakened to a deeper sense than that of being undone in the eyes of men. He called out to the apostle Paul and his companions, "Sirs" (the word means "Lords"), "what must I do to be saved?" This once brutal ruffian, who had treated them shamefully, now approached them with the greatest respect.
So what finally broke this hard man? One writer says it was not the shaking walls.
This was irresistible. A hardened sinner could face an earthquake; he could face death itself; but he could not stand against the mighty melting power of love. The hardest heart must yield to the moral influence of love... Love can break the hardest heart. And surely there was love in those words, "Do not harm yourself," coming from the lips of a man he had harmed so much a few hours before.
Does the word do show a man still trying to earn his way? A reader put that question to one writer.
We would say, No. It is the cry of an awakened soul. He sees his danger. He has just seen the power of God displayed, and he knows he is exposed to it. He wants to be rescued from it. This is not a cool theological question, like the one the Pharisees asked in John 6:28. It is like the awakened cry of those convicted by the Spirit under Peter's preaching at Pentecost: "Brothers, what shall we do?" (Acts 2:37). At the same time, the anxious man little dreams of the fulness of the precious answer... Nothing to do, for all has been done.
One writer turns the jailer's question into a question for the reader.
Are you recognising that you can bring nothing to God? That even the things which might be a gain to you among men are worthless before Him? That you are a sinner, and as such lost and undone? That you can therefore do nothing towards your salvation, and that if you are saved it must be by the work and grace of another? If you are, then we can unfold to you the blessed truth in these words: "Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved."
Nothing else came out of him that night — no bargaining, no religious offer.
It was salvation that filled the jailer's whole soul, nothing less than salvation — not religious ceremonies, but salvation. This is also the anxious question of every truly enlightened soul. And we need not go to commentators or learned doctors for the right answer, for the Scriptures tell us plainly.
- Shaken — the earthquake opened doors; a second, inward shaking opened this man to his state before God.
- Awakened — every prisoner was safe, so Roman law was no threat. What troubled him was God's judgment at the end of everything.
- Melted — he could face an earthquake, but not the love in "Do not harm yourself," spoken by a man he had harmed.
- Asking — his cry is not cool theology but the cry of an awakened soul, the same cry heard at Pentecost.
- Answered — the honest question "what must I do" meets the answer nothing, for all has been done. Salvation comes to the one who can bring God nothing.
And they said, Believe on the Lord Jesus and thou shalt be saved, thou and thy house.
A jailer in Philippi, minutes from suicide, asks the one question that matters, and the answer asks nothing of him but faith. Everything hangs on what "believe" means, on Paul's three titles for the Saviour, and on how far the promise to his household reaches.
The jailer asked what he must do. The answer gave him nothing to do, and one writer shows how well that suits a man with no strength left:
But what is the jailer told to do? God's answer to man's query is beautiful in its simplicity. "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall be saved, and your house," falls on the ears of the awakened sinner. He had only to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and he would be a saved man. There is no word of anything that he must do to get salvation. This gospel exactly meets helpless sinners who have no strength. No wonder the jailer believed at once.
Another writer names the reason: Christ had already done the work.
Nothing that he could do could secure God's salvation. The doing had all been done by Christ. All that is left for the sinner is taking hold of the results of His mighty work by simple faith.
Paul does not just say "believe on Jesus." Each name meets a different fear in an awakened conscience:
Why does he here repeat all these titles of the Saviour? Because he is presenting Him to this anxious soul as the Object of faith, and in such a way as to fully satisfy his awakened conscience... If the question of the troubled heart is, Is He willing to save me? The answer is, Yes; He is JESUS, and came into the world for the very purpose of saving sinners. If the question is, Is He able to save me? The answer is, Yes; He is "LORD of all," and has all power in heaven and on earth. And He is the CHRIST, the anointed One in heaven, following on His finished work on the cross. That is the unquestionable proof that everyone who has come as a sinner to Him the Saviour is forgiven and blessed.
The writers quoted here use an older translation, which reads "the Lord Jesus Christ." The ESV reads "the Lord Jesus."
The jailer's response shows what believing looks like. He took God at His word:
The Scripture says this, "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall be saved." It is not enough to know that the Bible says so. The devils know that well enough, and so does the unbeliever. But do you know that God says so — that it is God speaking to us in the Bible? Now, if God says so, is it not true?... The jailer understood it to mean just what God said, and he was baptized at once. He raised no questions. "He rejoiced, believing in God with all his house." If he believed and rejoiced, why should you doubt?
The last words are the ones most often dropped. One writer treats that habit as a real loss:
We often quote Acts 16:31, but too often we leave out the last three words. God loves to identify a man's house with himself and include them in His offer of blessing. Why do we not more often take hold of this fact in our faith?... This is surely most encouraging for every head of a house whom the grace of God reaches. God shows no partiality: what He is to one He is to all.
Commentators differ on how far the promise carries. One writer separates what the jailer's faith gave his house from what each member must still do:
His being brought to God puts his whole house in a sanctified (set apart) position, as 1 Corinthians 7:14 plainly teaches. In this way the house is saved. Yet each person in the house must still personally receive the Lord Jesus to have eternal salvation.
Within the hour, the man who had bolted them into the stocks was washing their wounds:
There "only believe" was quite in place, and to have "demanded good works" would have been worse than useless. Yet within one short hour of conversion the jailer performed his first good work, the fruit and proof of his faith... He did it not to be saved, but as the result of the change that grace had worked within.
- Asked — the question assumed doing; the answer named believing, because Christ had already done it all.
- Answered — the titles carry the weight. Jesus means He is willing, Lord means He is able, Christ means the work is finished.
- Assured — the jailer raised no questions and rejoiced at once, because faith rests on what God says.
- Applied — the promise reaches past the man to his house and sets it apart, though each person in it must still believe personally.
- Attested — within one hour he did his first good work; works follow salvation, they never buy it.
And they spoke to him the word of the Lord, with all that were in his house.
The jailer asked how to be saved and got a one-sentence answer. Then the preaching kept going — at midnight, in the house of a man who had shown Paul and Silas no kindness. This verse shows what more they said, and how far the message reached.
Paul's reply to the jailer was one line. This verse shows it was not all he said. One writer notes that the man had no background for the words he had just heard.
But you might say to me: what did this man know about the Lord Jesus Christ? I do not think he knew anything at all about Him up to that moment. That is why the next verse is so important. They did not stop at merely saying, "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ." They unfolded the gospel to him. They brought out the glorious truth of the Person of the Lord Jesus Christ.
The same writer fills in what that preaching likely contained.
But this was not all the jailer heard. From the words "they spoke the word of the Lord to him," I have no doubt Paul brought out the account of the birth of Jesus, and of His holy, gracious life. He told the story of His death on the cross when men put Him there, and how at that moment He completed the work of redemption, which He alone could do. He told how God laid on Him the iniquity of us all, and how He who knew no sin was made sin for us. After His suffering ended in His atoning death and the shedding of His blood, He was laid in the grave for three days. After the third day He rose from the dead, and was received up into glory at the right hand of the Father.
The promise of verse 31 included the jailer's house. This verse shows how the word got there. One writer treats the wording as deliberate on the Holy Spirit's part.
Some assume that the jailer's house held only children, too young to be responsible. But Scripture lets us press the disproof to the very end. Verse 32 adds that they spoke the word of the Lord to him and to all who were in his house, as if the Holy Spirit had planned in advance to leave no possible excuse for such strange teaching. Only those who could hear the word were concerned at that moment. The call itself brought no one else within the terms of the blessing, whatever grace might do afterwards.
Commentators differ here. Some read the joy of the following verses as shared faith throughout the household.
So here the jailer rejoiced, but not as a stand-in for his family. They too rejoiced, as truly in their measure as he did. Only his joy, as one who had believed in God, is named. We are meant to understand the joy of faith in the case of all. It is a beautiful picture of how real and active God's grace is in this world, and this in the whole house of a hardened pagan.
Others point out that the verbs stay with one man, even while the whole house is in view.
Here the salvation of his house stands as the normal result of his own believing. In what follows we hear nothing of their faith, only of his — though we read that they spoke the word of the Lord to him and to all who were in his house. It is "he" rejoiced, "he" believed.
One writer reads what the jailer did next as proof that the word had done its work.
They sang praises with their feet in the stocks. They had kept the jailer, who had shown them no kindness but the opposite, from the guilt of suicide. Now we learn how grace worked in him. He displayed the fruits of the divine nature. He took them that same hour of the night and washed their wounds. He confessed the Lord and was counted as His disciple, along with his household, for all of them were baptized at once. He set food before Paul and Silas, who no doubt needed it. He showed thought, love and concern for these two men — surely the fruit of that divine nature which he had just come to share.
The word came to the whole household. One writer draws out what that means for any believer's home.
The "house" of the believer also came inside the blessed circle of grace. So the households of God's people become spheres of light in the moral darkness of this world. But this only happens where they know the truth, and hold to the Lord's claims and authority.
- Word. Paul and Silas did not leave their one-line answer bare. They unfolded the Person and work of Christ to a man who knew nothing of Him.
- House. The word travelled as far as the promise did — spoken to the jailer and to everyone in his house together.
- Hearing. Only those who could hear the word were included by the call itself, whatever grace might do later.
- Faith. Commentators differ on whether the whole house believed or only the jailer. All agree the word reached them all.
- Fruit. Washed wounds, baptism and a shared meal show grace at work, turning that household into a place of light.
And he took them the same hour of the night and washed [them] from their stripes; and was baptised, he and all his straightway.
The night ends where it began — in the prison — but the roles are reversed. The man who locked Paul and Silas in the inner cell now kneels over their wounds with water, and this is his first act after believing.
One writer contrasts what the jailer was with what he has become, and weighs what would have been lost had Paul walked out of the open door.
What a marvellous change! The ruthless jailer has become the generous host! "If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come." How clearly we can now see that Paul was right in not being guided by circumstances! How much better and higher to be led by the "eye" of God! What an eternal loss it would have proved to him had he walked out at the open door! How much better to be led out by the very hand that had thrust him in — a hand once the instrument of cruelty and sin, now the instrument of righteousness and love!
One commentator weighs the exact wording. He argues it stresses how awkward the hour was, then follows the jailer's movements — from the cell, to the water, to the room above. (Where older translations say "stripes," the ESV says "wounds.")
The jailer took them "that hour" of the night, however awkward the hour might seem. That is the force of the words, rather than "the same," which the text does not say, though of course that was true as well. But we must give exactly what was written and meant. After washing their stripes he and all his were baptized without delay, it would seem within the prison grounds. Then he brought them "up" into his house, apparently above the prisoners' quarters, saw to their food and comfort, and rejoiced with all his house, having believed in God.
The urgency is itself part of the testimony. A preacher applying the scene notes that the man's confession came before daybreak:
The jailer heard the gospel: "Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved." He believed, and he was saved. Clearly he believed with his heart and confessed with his mouth… He did not wait till the morning.
One writer treats the washing as the test of whether the jailer's faith was real.
He is born again by the word of truth, and his whole way of life is changed… A few hours before, he saw nothing more in Paul and Silas to call out affection and sympathy than in the other prisoners. But now he sees everything with new eyes… This was a fine example of the fruit of the Spirit, and it proved that his profession was sincere. His love was not in word and in tongue, but in deed and in truth.
The same verse moves straight from the washing to baptism. One writer explains why that step felt like a privilege and not a duty.
But more than this, he carried out the mind of the Lord: "he was baptized."… He knew that the Lord Jesus Christ had saved him. He knew that he had redemption in Christ through His blood, the forgiveness of sins according to the riches of His grace. So it was not a burden but a sweet privilege to take part in an ordinance where he would feel for himself what it means to be buried with Christ. Faith does not argue; it believes and acts on God's word.
Commentators differ over how much this clause proves. Some take it as a settled pattern of God dealing with a man and those belonging to him:
"And was baptized, he and all his." What an expressive phrase: "HE AND ALL HIS." Here we have our warrant for household baptism. "He and all his" represents, as briefly as could be wished, the divine and gracious principle that runs all through God's dealings with His people.
Others reply that the text never says who was in the house, and that preaching always came first:
Thoughtful men on all sides admit that the households of Scripture decide nothing about this. There may have been no infants… We never hear of Peter or anyone else setting out first of all to baptize. They set out to preach. Then those who received the word were baptized.
- Believing — the jailer heard, believed, and acted; faith did not argue, it simply took God at His word.
- Washing — the first fruit of that faith was love shown in deed, to the very men he had wounded.
- Baptism — he confessed Christ openly and at once, picturing burial with Him.
- Household — his whole house rejoiced in believing God; commentators differ on whether "he and all his" settles who may be baptized.
- Change — the hand once used for cruelty became the instrument of righteousness and love, in a few hours of one night.
And having brought them into his house he laid the table [for them], and rejoiced with all his house, having believed in God.
The man who had bolted Paul and Silas into the inner prison now leads them upstairs into his own home and sets a meal in front of them. Two questions rise out of that night: why does the verse say he believed in God, and how far does "with all his house" reach?
The meal is not mere politeness. It is the first fruit of a converted man, and one writer traces the sequence step by step:
These prisoners had shown what spirit they were of. They sang praises with their feet in the stocks. ... Now we learn how grace worked in him. He showed the fruits of the divine nature. He showed that he was converted. Consideration for them came first. He took them that same hour of the night and washed their stripes... he set food before Paul and Silas, who no doubt needed it... and now, his heart full, he rejoiced greatly with all his house, having believed in God. How well he could now understand those two singing hymns to God at midnight, since he and they shared the same grace and the same joy.
The same reversal is read as proof that the change was real and not a fright that would pass with daylight:
And now everything is changed. The jailer takes the prisoners into his own house — his cruelty is turned into love, sympathy, and hospitality... What an eventful night! What a change in a few hours! And what a joyful morning dawned on that happy house!
Why does the verse name God, when the answer Paul gave named the Lord Jesus Christ? One writer replies:
He was told to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and I read that he believed in God. Why was that? What he had heard led him to see that the blessed Man he had been told about, the Lord Jesus Christ, was really God. The blessed One who became Man to die for his sins and save him was the eternal, blessed Son of God. Accepting that truth and believing it with the simplicity of a little child, he believed in God "with all his house." Note that! Not only he himself, but his whole house was marked out for blessing. Paul had found his man, but he got a good many besides.
(The quotes follow an older translation: "rejoiced, believing in God with all his house.")
In verse 33 the baptism comes first; the rejoicing and the believing come after. Some read that order as proof that baptism came before faith. The grammar answers them:
The record is as plain as possible. The Philippian jailer asked in deep distress what he must do to be saved. He was not told to be baptized first and believe afterwards. He was told, "Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household" — without one word about baptism. No one doubts that he and all his were baptized that same hour. But the word of God is too wise and holy to hint at any such thing. It gives not the smallest support to the idea that he was baptized before he believed, just because it says later that he rejoiced, believing in God. On the contrary, look at the tenses. His joy stands in the aorist, the simple past. His faith stands in the form that implies a present, continuing result of something already past.
Commentators differ here, and the difference turns on one Greek word. Some hold the joy of faith belonged to every person under that roof:
The Greek phrase for "with all his house" is without doubt adverbial. But that makes no real difference to the sense... So here the jailer rejoiced. He did not rejoice as a representative standing in for his family. They rejoiced too, as truly as he did, in their measure, though his joy as believing in God is the one specified. We are meant to understand the joy of faith in the case of all. A beautiful picture of the reality and activity of God's grace in this world — and this with the whole house of a hardened pagan.
Others read the same word as limiting the statement:
We have to translate it this way, since any other rendering in English is awkward. Even so, "with all his house" is not used here as it is later with Crispus, where it says he "believed with all his house" (Acts 18:8). Here it is an adverb, and there should be a reason for the difference — the effect being to make the joy more simply his own. At least this is certain: although they had spoken the word to all who were in his house, faith is ascribed to him alone.
The joy of that night did not end with it. It turns up again in the letter Paul later sent to this city:
Paul and Silas were in dire circumstances, yet they made the praises of God ring through the prison at Philippi. What results followed, for the blessing of men and the glory of God! A whole household "rejoiced, believing in God." Do we wonder that Paul's later letter to the believers at Philippi is so full of rejoicing?
- Word. Salvation came by a message, not a ritual. He was told to believe, and the grammar keeps faith before baptism.
- God. Told to trust the Lord Jesus Christ, he believed in God — he had grasped who that Man is.
- Table. The washed wounds and the meal are the first fruit of the new nature; love to God's servants is how the change showed.
- House. Commentators differ: does the joy of faith cover everyone under that roof, or does faith belong to the jailer alone?
- Joy. Midnight singing in a prison ended in a whole household rejoicing. The letter to Philippi carried that joy on.