Acts 16:25–34

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.

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?"

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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 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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 "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.

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!

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 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.

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.

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.

"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.

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.

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.

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!

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 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.

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.

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.

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?