Acts 25–26

The arrival of Festus into the province gives us another, a third, date in the history of the Acts. Herod Agrippa I died, as we have already stated, AD 44. Gallio's proconsulship, the next date given us by Luke, was in AD 53. Now Festus's replacement of Felix took place AD 60. About seven years, then, had passed since Paul stood before Gallio's judgment seat at Corinth.

The new governor, Festus, gave a fresh opportunity to the Jews. He was morally more respectable than Felix. But he did not know God, so he could not be trusted in his dealings with people. Faith made no sense to him; he took it for mere enthusiasm. But he soon learnt enough of the Jews to make him guilty in his willingness to gratify them at the cost of Paul. Policy is a sad destroyer of conscience.

Another governor appears in Festus. His name is very like Felix, and it means "festive, joyous." The world keeps holiday while the saints suffer. He was more respectable in character than Felix. Even so, he was not above wanting to do the Jews a favour at the expense of justice.

The new governor, Festus, had arrived at Caesarea, and then went up to Jerusalem, the capital of the province. The Jews had not forgotten Paul. They had not tried another accusation before Felix, because they knew the case was hopeless. But they made an effort at once with the new governor. As soon as this official appeared in Jerusalem, the high priest and the leading men of the Jews brought a report about Paul. Most likely Festus had not even heard of Paul up to that time.

These two years had neither lessened the hatred of the Jews, nor awakened their consciences. And in the Roman, Festus, there were only base motives — love of self and of his own importance.

No doubt the post was a difficult one to fill well and with credit to himself. On the one hand, he would want to keep on good terms with the Jews. On the other, there was Paul, still in chains, whose case the governor had to take up and handle justly. That was man's side of the matter. But there was another. The Lord had allowed Felix to leave Paul in chains, because He still had work for His servant at Caesarea. But now Paul's case would no longer drag on with needless delay.

The providence of God is still in action. On the one hand, the Jews used the cover of a favour: they wanted the apostle ambushed on the road to Jerusalem. On the other, the governor stood by the dignity of his office and would not have it lowered. As Paul had already been sent to Caesarea, he declined moving him back to Jerusalem. It is possible that he knew little or nothing of their murderous plans. If so, it was the secret care of God for one unjustly attacked. At this time the governor was not willing to hand a Roman citizen over to the hatred of his enemies, especially in a religious dispute. By his decision the governor blocked their plot.

The Jews had not forgotten Paul, though they had not attempted another accusation before Felix, knowing that the case was hopeless. But they made at once an effort with the new governor. No sooner had this official made his appearance in Jerusalem than the high priest and the chief of the Jews made a report about Paul. Most likely Festus had not even heard of Paul up to that time.

Three days after the governor's arrival at Cæsarea he went up to Jerusalem. While he was there, people spoke to him about the case. A new governor might be easier to persuade than the previous one.

It would seem after two years that their animosity would have been tempered, but it was just as determined as before.

Such was the animosity against Paul that at once the high priest and other leaders accused him, and asked Festus to have him brought to Jerusalem. Though years had passed they would still fulfil their vow and take their revenge. Such is religious bitterness!

The chief priests and elders would still use foul means to get rid of a man they can prove nothing against. They ask Festus to have him brought to Jerusalem for trial, meaning to ambush and kill him on the road.

The case was as plain as could be. The accusations were without proof; the defence was complete. The Jews were simply bitter enemies. The apostle was not guilty of any of the many serious charges they had laid to his account.

The providence of God is still in action. On the one hand, the Jews asked a favour as a cover. They wanted the apostle ambushed on the road to Jerusalem. On the other hand, the governor stood by the dignity of his office and would not have it lowered. As Paul had already been sent to Caesarea, he refused to move him back to Jerusalem. It is possible that he knew little or nothing of their murderous designs. If so, it was the secret care of God for one unjustly attacked.

The chief of the Jews bring information against Paul. They want him sent to Jerusalem so that he can be killed on the way. Festus does not give in to this, because the hand of God prevents him. Instead he goes down from Jerusalem to Caesarea, taking Paul's accusers with him.

In this sudden change on the part of Festus we may see the hand of God. During the night after the uproar in the council, the Lord had appeared to Paul. He told him that he must bear witness to Him in Rome. Now He controls circumstances to bring this about.

The providence of God is still in action. On the one hand, the Jews tried, under the cover of a favour, to have the apostle ambushed on the road to Jerusalem. On the other, the governor stood by the dignity of his office and would not have it lowered. Since Paul had already been sent to Caesarea, he refused to move him back to Jerusalem. It is possible that he knew little or nothing of their murderous designs. If so, it was the secret care of God for one unjustly attacked. At this time the governor was not ready to hand a Roman citizen over to the hatred of his enemies, especially Jewish enemies in a religious dispute. The Lord in any case watched over His servant.

Three days after the governor's arrival at Caesarea he went up to Jerusalem. While there, people spoke to him about the case. A new governor might be more flexible than the previous one.

As soon as this official appeared in Jerusalem, the high priest and the chief of the Jews made a report about Paul. Most likely Festus had not even heard of Paul up to that time… There must have been an uproar in Jerusalem when Festus showed himself. The mob clamoured for the life of Paul. When they noticed the reluctance of the governor, they came up with another plan. They asked that Paul should be brought to Jerusalem. On the way there they intended to murder him.

The hostility against Paul was such that the high priest and other leaders accused him at once. They asked Festus to have him brought to Jerusalem. Though years had passed they would still carry out their vow and take their revenge. Such is religious bitterness!

The chief priests and elders would still get rid by foul means of a man they can prove nothing against. They urge Festus to have him brought to Jerusalem for trial, intending to ambush and kill him on the road. But Festus was guided by God, whatever his own motive was. He decides that Paul, already taken to Caesarea, shall stay there, and that his accusers must bring their charges against him there.

The new governor, Festus, gave a fresh opportunity to the Jews. He was morally more respectable than Felix. But he did not know God, and so he could not be trusted where men were concerned… Policy is a sad destroyer of conscience.

In this sudden change on the part of Festus we may see the hand of God. During the night after the uproar in the council, the Lord had appeared to Paul. He told him that he must bear witness to Him in Rome. Now He controls circumstances to bring this to pass.

When there, the high priest and chief of the Jews asked Festus to send for Paul to be tried, meaning to turn it into an opportunity for lying in wait along the road, with the intention of murdering him.

Such was the hostility against Paul that at once the high priest and other leaders accused him. Though years had passed they would still carry out their vow and take their revenge. Such is religious bitterness!

The providence of God is still in action. On the one hand, the Jews sought to have the apostle ambushed on the road to Jerusalem, under the appearance of a favour. On the other, the governor stood by the dignity of his office and would not have it lowered. As Paul had already been sent to Caesarea, he refused to move him back to Jerusalem. It is possible that he knew little or nothing of their murderous plans. If so, it was the secret care of God for one unjustly attacked… The accused was in Caesarea, and in Roman eyes that was the highest seat of judgment in that land. The governor's decision blocked their plot. He was going back to Caesarea himself shortly. So if there was any real charge, they had their chance to come down and accuse the prisoner.

More respectable in character than Felix, he is still not above wanting to do the Jews a favour at the expense of justice. The chief priests and elders would still get rid, by foul means, of one against whom they can prove nothing… But Festus, guided by God — whatever his own motive was — decides that Paul has been taken to Caesarea and shall stay there. His accusers must bring their charges against him there.

So little can man be counted on. Festus had refused this very favour to the Jews in Jerusalem. He could hardly have missed the reason Paul had been hurried down to Caesarea. His motive was to win favour with the Jews.

If Festus began giving in to the clamour in order to pacify the Jews, he would end by giving in to everything.

In this sudden change on the part of Festus we may see the hand of God. During the night after the uproar in the council, the Lord had appeared to Paul. He told him that he must bear witness to Him in Rome. Now He controls circumstances to bring this to pass. The suggestion from Festus led Paul to appeal to Caesar, a privilege that belonged to him as a Roman citizen.

Sad picture of man's injustice! But everything accomplishes the purposes of God.

Festus refused that request. He answered, rightly, that Paul should be tried at Caesarea. His accusers, as many as were able, should go down there to prosecute.

On the one hand, the Jews sought to have the apostle ambushed on the road to Jerusalem, under cover of a favour. On the other, the governor stood by the dignity of his office and would not have it lowered. Paul had already been sent to Caesarea, so Festus declined to move him back to Jerusalem. It is possible that he knew little or nothing of their murderous designs. If so, it was the secret care of God for one unjustly attacked... The Lord in any case watched over His servant... The governor by his decision hindered the carrying out of their plot. He was going back to Caesarea himself shortly, so if any wrong was in question, they had their chance to come down and accuse the prisoner.

Festus is more respectable in character than Felix. Even so, he is not above wanting to do the Jews a favour at the expense of justice. The chief priests and elders would still use foul means to get rid of a man they can prove nothing against. So they ask Festus to have him brought to Jerusalem for trial. They intend to ambush and kill him on the road. But Festus is guided by God, whatever his own motive was. He decides that Paul has been taken to Caesarea and shall stay there. His accusers must bring their charges against him there.

Though years had passed, they would still carry out their vow and take their revenge. Such is religious bitterness! Festus, however, declined this, so once more his accusers had to travel to Caesarea.

The case was as plain as could be. The accusations were without proof; the defence was complete. The Jews were simply bitter enemies. The apostle had not done wrong in any of the many serious charges they had laid to his account.

Though their desire was to get hold of his person, he was to remain no longer in their power, and so he is taken to Lysias, to Felix, to Festus, to Agrippa, and at last to Caesar. Such was God's intention. These were also the means He used to bring the gospel to the governors and to the great. He did not raise up men of the world to do it, as many often think. Instead, God makes a prisoner His servant, so that the gospel might reach governors and kings.

The providence of God is still in action. The Jews asked for what looked like a favour: they wanted the apostle ambushed on the road to Jerusalem. The governor, on his side, stood by the dignity of his office and would not have it lowered. Since Paul had already been sent to Caesarea, Festus refused to move him back to Jerusalem. It is possible that he knew little or nothing of their plan to murder him. If so, it was the secret care of God for a man unjustly attacked... At this time the governor was not willing to hand a Roman citizen over to the hatred of his enemies, especially to Jewish enemies in a religious dispute. The Lord in any case watched over His servant. The accused was in Caesarea, and in Roman eyes that was the highest seat of judgment anywhere in that land. By his decision the governor blocked their plot.

For the first time in his career the governor came up against one of the difficulties that belong to that office. The laws of the Jews were claimed to be given by God, and age had made them sacred. As far as we find them in Scripture, they were published centuries before Rome was founded. Those laws differed from pagan customs and Greek constitutions, and from Roman law as well. So a person could be sentenced to death under them for something the law-books of the Roman Empire knew nothing about. And now, brought face to face with this difficulty, what should Festus do?

But Festus was really little better than Felix. The change of judge was only slightly in favour of justice. There was the same selfishness that had worked against fairness before. You could not expect the fear of God from a pagan man, though some may have been more corrupt and unjust than others.

The day after Festus returned, the Jews were ready to bring their accusations to his judgment seat. This was however only a repetition of the first hearing before Felix. Their many serious complaints were not backed up by proof of any kind. Paul answered for himself as before, speaking the truth in his own defence. Again he had no opportunity to bear witness to his faith in Christ and the truth of the gospel. The clear result of the hearing was that the Jews could establish no case against him whatever.

The relentless hatred of the Jews only produces the fulfilment of the purposes of God... They wanted to keep hold of him, yet Paul was to stay in their power no longer. He is therefore taken to Lysias, to Felix, to Festus, to Agrippa, and at last to Caesar. Such was the intention of God. These were also the means He used to bring the gospel to the governors and to the great. He did not raise up men of the world to do it, as many often think. God makes a prisoner His servant, so that the gospel might reach governors and kings.

The case was as plain as could be. The accusations were without proof; the defence was complete. The Jews were simply bitter enemies. The apostle had not transgressed as to any of the many serious charges they had laid to his account.

Such was the hostility against Paul that at once the high priest and other leaders accused him, and asked Festus to have him brought to Jerusalem. Though years had passed they would still fulfil their vow and carry out their revenge. Such is religious bitterness! Festus however declined this, so once more his accusers had to travel to Caesarea. This second hearing was practically a repetition of the first, as is shown in verses 7 and 8. Paul had merely to answer a large number of unproved assertions.

The providence of God is still in action. On the one hand, the Jews wanted the apostle ambushed on the road to Jerusalem, and they dressed the plan up as a favour. On the other hand, the governor stood by the dignity of his office, and would not have it lowered. As Paul had already been sent to Caesarea, he declined moving him back to Jerusalem. It is possible that he knew little or nothing of their murderous designs. If so, it was the secret care of God for one unjustly attacked… At this time the governor was not prepared to hand a Roman citizen over to the hatred of his enemies, especially in a religious dispute among Jews. The Lord in any case watched over His servant… By his decision the governor blocked their plot.

The trial proceeded. Once more the apostle had to listen to many serious charges against him. Not one of them could be proved in law. That was evident… Festus was clearly puzzled as to what he should do. Unfounded charges were no grounds on which to punish anyone in a Roman court of justice. But he wanted to gain popularity with the Jews, so he asked if Paul would go to Jerusalem and stand trial there before him.

Their many serious complaints were not backed up by proof of any kind. Paul answered as before for himself, speaking the truth in his own defence. Yet again he had no chance to bear witness to his faith in Christ and the truth of the Gospel.

We have the perfect pattern of the Lord Jesus in His path of suffering and toil. We also have the example of the apostle Paul. In his devotion to making known the gospel, he shared in no small measure in the sufferings of the life of Christ. Instead of being honoured in this world he suffered even to chains as an evildoer. So he followed in the footsteps of his Master. The religious world of His day charged Him with being "a glutton and a drunkard", with having a demon, and with being a sinner.

To suffer for righteousness' sake, and to show a good conscience before men, demands "a good conscience" before God and men. If we try to stand before the enemy with a bad conscience, it will only bring shame and defeat. With a conscience free of offence we shall, by our consistent Christian conduct, put to shame those who falsely accuse us.

This second hearing was almost a repetition of the first, as verses 7 and 8 show. Paul only had to answer a large number of unproved claims.

The formal charge has three parts. First stands a political accusation. This, in the presence of the high Roman officer, was of the greatest importance. Any conspiracy against the Roman government was a capital offence... The second offence Tertullus brought against Paul was of a religious nature. Tertullus presented the Nazarenes as a sect of the Jews, and Paul as their ringleader. Paul, he said, had supported what was against the peace of Judaism. He had not only brought in a disturbing element; he had also broken another Roman law, which forbade bringing in an unrecognised religion. The third charge was the profaning of the temple.

The case was as plain as could be. The accusations were without proof; the defence was complete. The Jews were simply bitter enemies. The apostle had not transgressed as to any of the many serious charges they had laid to his account.

Paul is brought to his judgment-seat, and there he clears himself of every charge of offence against the Jewish law, the temple, or Caesar. The Jews are unable to prove anything against him, and Festus is very well aware of it. Yet Festus still plans, from political motives, to hand him over to them.

Paul upholds his integrity, and God watches over him. He denies once more the things his accusers could not prove. Festus thinks nothing of justice, but only of pleasing the people... This fulfilled God's purpose: His providence brought Paul to Rome, so that there he would bear witness before the Emperor himself. This was not the thought of Festus, nor of the Jews... But the will of God is accomplished without that of men.

That is what all Christians should do. And how do you get and keep a conscience that is clear toward God? You get it first of all by being washed in the blood of the Lamb, and you keep it by walking in dependence on God, and in obedience to Him. Young Christian, your conscience is cleansed by the blood of Jesus. But you say, How can I keep a good conscience? By being exercised. You are exercised in your soul, and you always have God in view. That is to say, you work at your walk so that God will not be able to say, "That was wrong," and neither will anyone else. This was Paul's manner of walk.

But Festus was really little better than Felix. The change of judge helped justice only a little. The same selfishness that had worked against fair judgment before was still there.

These two years had not lessened the hatred of the Jews, nor awakened their consciences. And in the Roman, Festus, only low motives were at work — love of self and love of his own importance.

Man can be counted on so little. Festus had refused this very favour to the Jews in Jerusalem. He could hardly have been unaware why Paul was rushed down to Caesarea. His motive was to win favour with the Jews.

His character was more respectable than that of Felix. Even so, he was not above wanting to do the Jews a favour at the cost of justice… But here the governor shows how eager he is to please the Jews, even while he knows, as Paul declares, that Paul had done them no wrong.

If Festus began to give in to the outcry to keep the Jews happy, he would end by giving in on everything.

It is quite clear that Festus saw well enough that Paul's real offence had to do with the religious opinions of the Jews. He saw that Paul had broken no law. But he also wanted to get into favour with the Jews. So he asks Paul whether he would go to Jerusalem to be tried there. This was little better than a proposal to sacrifice him to Jewish hatred.

For a Roman governor — the chief representative of the empire — this was an unheard of thing. It meant taking a man brought before him and sending him back to Jerusalem for the Jews to judge.

In this sudden change in Festus we may see the hand of God. On the night after the uproar in the Jewish council, the Lord had appeared to Paul and told him that he must bear witness to Him in Rome. Now He controls events to bring this about. The suggestion from Festus led Paul to appeal to Caesar, a right that belonged to him as a Roman citizen.

This was how God's purpose was fulfilled: His providence brought Paul to Rome, and there he would bear witness before the Emperor himself. Festus never thought of this, and neither did the Jews… But God's will is done without the will of men.

According to Roman law he ought to be tried at Caesar's judgment seat, that is, by a Roman court, not Jewish or partly Jewish.

His question to Paul was a confession that he could not legally change the venue in that fashion. That change needed Paul's consent… Paul could teach Festus his duty. The proper court for a Roman citizen in that province was not Jerusalem, but Caesarea. There was the seat of government, and there was the court of the representative of the Emperor.

So little can man be relied on. Festus had refused this very favour to the Jews in Jerusalem; he could hardly be in the dark as to the reason why Paul had been hurried down to Caesarea. His motive was to win favour with the Jews.

Paul upholds his integrity, and is watched over by God. Festus thinks nothing of justice, but only of pleasing the people. Paul replies with great dignity. He says Festus was well aware that he had done nothing wrong, and that Festus had no right to give him up to his enemies. He ends by appealing to Caesar.

It is clear that all the righteousness of the case lay with Paul. He therefore makes use of his title as a Roman citizen against those who would have broken Roman law. He agitated for no change of law, he sought nothing for himself, he employed no lawyer. The law had already ruled, and he pleaded it before one whose office it was to administer it.

He had to go to Rome as a prisoner. This came about through his appeal to Caesar — an appeal by no means always granted, as it was clearly open to abuse. If the guilt was obvious, it was refused; so too if the case was too trivial to be worth the emperor's hearing. Paul's innocence was beyond question, and Jewish ill-will had made the case a very serious one. He appealed when he saw the governor trifling with justice to please the Jews.

In this sudden change on the part of Festus we may see the hand of God. The night after the uproar in the council, the Lord had appeared to Paul and told him that he must bear witness to Him in Rome. Now He controls circumstances to bring this about. The suggestion from Festus led Paul to appeal to Caesar, a privilege that belonged to him as a Roman citizen. Paul knew that the proposed change of place was the first step towards handing him over to his enemies. Festus, though, knew very well that Paul had done no wrong.

To human eyes it was perhaps his only option in the circumstances. But the Holy Spirit is careful to tell us that he might have gone free if he had not appealed to Caesar.

Paul elsewhere fully accepts the "powers that be" as those appointed by God to be the ministers of God for good to men, and there seems no real difficulty in his using them for that. If we do not know his motive, in the case of one such as he was, it is only justice to credit him with the highest motive.

As soon as Festus arrived in the province, he went to Jerusalem. There the leading Jews seized the chance to demand Paul's return. They said they wanted him tried again before the Jewish council, but their real purpose was to kill him on the way... Festus saw clearly that Paul's real offence had to do with the religious opinions of the Jews, and that he had broken no law. Yet he wanted to win favour with the Jews, so he asks Paul whether he would go to Jerusalem for trial there. This was little better than a proposal to sacrifice him to Jewish hatred.

It is clear that all the righteousness of the case lay with Paul. He therefore makes use of his title as a Roman citizen against those who would have broken Roman law. He pushed for no change of law, he sought nothing for himself, he employed no lawyer. The law had already ruled, and he pleaded it before a man whose office was to administer it.

When Paul appealed to Caesar, it was not an appeal against a judgement already given, which is what an appeal means today. Paul knew the murderous hatred of the Jews and the corruption of the governors. So he chose Caesar's court to judge his case, which, as a Roman, he had the right to do.

He had to go to Rome as a prisoner. This happened through his appeal to Caesar — an appeal by no means always granted, since it was clearly open to abuse. An obvious case of guilt got no appeal. Nor did a case too trivial for the emperor to hear. Paul's innocence was beyond question, though Jewish ill-will had made the case very serious. He appealed when he saw the governor playing with justice to please the Jews.

To human eyes it was perhaps his only way out. But the Holy Spirit is careful to tell us that he might have gone free if he had not appealed to Caesar.

If an appeal to Caesar were wrong in itself for a Christian, then making it could never be right, in any circumstances, for anyone... But Paul elsewhere fully accepts the ruling authorities as those appointed by God to be God's servants for the good of people. There seems to be no real difficulty in his using them for that. If we do not know his motive, in the case of one such as he was, it is simple justice to credit him with the highest.

In this sudden change on the part of Festus we may see the hand of God. On the night after the uproar in the council, the Lord had appeared to Paul. He told him that he must bear witness to Him in Rome, and now He controls circumstances to bring this about... Paul's appeal settled everything. Having appealed to Caesar, to Rome he must go. This is the third time we find Paul taking his stand on his Roman citizenship. Here most clearly it was made to serve and work out the purpose of his Lord.

So far the difficulty was over. The governor was bound by the appeal… The king, or emperor, was to hear the case, just as the lower judges did. And this was not by flattering the princes of this world or seeking access to them, but as holy sufferers with Christ and for His name (Matthew 10:18).

All the righteousness of the case lay with Paul. He therefore makes use of his standing as a Roman citizen against those who would have broken Roman law. He pushed for no change in the law, he sought nothing for himself, he employed no lawyer. The law had already ruled, and he pleaded it before a man whose office was to administer it.

In this sudden change on the part of Festus we may see the hand of God. During the night after the uproar in the council, the Lord had appeared to Paul. He told him that he must bear witness to Him in Rome, and now He controls circumstances to bring this about… Paul knew that the proposed move was the first step toward handing him over to his enemies. Yet Festus knew very well that he had done no wrong.

This was the fulfilment of God's purpose, that Paul, brought to Rome by His providence, should bear witness there before the Emperor himself. This was not the thought of Festus, nor of the Jews… But the will of God is accomplished without the will of men.

To human eyes it was perhaps his only resource in the circumstances. But the Holy Spirit is careful to tell us that he might have gone free if he had not appealed to Caesar.

Festus and Agrippa both declare a short time later that the appeal was the only thing keeping Paul from going free. This might be seen as merely the excuse of a man who did not want the responsibility of freeing him — except that it is Agrippa who says it… How can we decide that it was lack of faith or lack of wisdom? He surely surpassed any of us in both. He stood in those circumstances as we do not, and he knew far more fully everything that was at stake.

It was Paul's purpose to visit Rome after going to Jerusalem (Acts 19:21), and God gave effect to it, for it was God's purpose (Acts 23:11). But how different was the way under His hand from the apostle's expectation! He must go to Rome a prisoner. This came to him through his appeal to Caesar — an appeal by no means always granted, since it was clearly open to abuse. Obvious guilt meant refusal; so did a case too trivial for the emperor to hear. Paul's innocence was beyond question, while Jewish ill will had made the case a most serious one. He appealed when he saw the governor playing with justice to please the Jews.

King Agrippa and Bernice paid a visit to the new governor. People knew this king's father as Herod Agrippa, and he died under awful circumstances (chapter 12) in the year 44. Agrippa was in Rome when his father died. He was too young to receive his father's kingdom. Eight years later his uncle Herod, king of Chalcis, died. That uncle had married Agrippa's sister Bernice, and Caesar gave Chalcis to Agrippa. Later Agrippa received the title of king… After her uncle's death Bernice joined her brother Agrippa in Rome. She married a Cilician ruler, but deserted him and rejoined her brother. She came with him on this visit to Caesarea.

But while these things are happening, King Agrippa and Bernice come to greet the new governor. Festus tells them the story of Paul. In doing so he gives himself a reputation for fairness and for faithfulness to the principles of justice and honour — as we find everywhere in the world, and here too. But the story of the resurrection was only a Jewish superstition to him. Agrippa, one of the Herods and king of the southern part of Palestine, was an Edomite by race but a Jew by profession. So he was well informed about the religious questions of the country. He was also curious to get a clear answer, from a reliable source, about what this Christianity might be. It had stirred up such a movement among his people. He asks to hear Paul.

Festus was just a man of the world. Of grace, of truth, he had no notion. The invisible and eternal realities were to him only imaginative ideas. Present things, changeable and fleeting as they are, were his life and all. God was in none of his thoughts, and apart from the Lord Jesus He remains unknown.

The coming of Agrippa and Bernice to greet Festus became the occasion for Paul to bear a third testimony before governors and kings. We are now given a much fuller insight into the mighty way in which he presented the truth. He had not failed before this to convey even to Festus what lay at the heart of the whole matter. When Festus spoke to Agrippa about the case, he said the controversy raged around "one Jesus, who was dead, whom Paul affirmed to be alive." This shows that, pagan though he was and with no real understanding, he had grasped the central fact of the gospel.

After this time the apostle has to give account of himself, and to fulfil the predictions of the Lord in a striking way. The malice of the Jews brought him before courts. Their hatred handed him over to the Gentiles. It was all to turn into a testimony. Kings and rulers will hear the gospel, but the love of many will grow cold.

Bernice was his elder sister, Drusilla his younger, and each of them famous or infamous in that day, and for very serious reasons. Felix and Drusilla had already received a most solemn warning from the prisoner. Now Agrippa and Bernice, with Festus, were to hear an appeal that leaves no soul as it finds it. The truth set before the conscience carries a responsibility that eternity will fully show.

Festus is puzzled about what to say about Paul when he sends him to Caesar. So he uses Agrippa's visit to learn more about him than he has managed to learn so far. The leaders of the nation are very worked up about this man, and yet his main crime seems to be only this: he believes that a man known to have died is alive. Resurrection seems to Festus too foolish a superstition for him to allow himself to say, "alive again."

"When two years had elapsed, Felix was succeeded by Porcius Festus. And desiring to do the Jews a favor, Felix left Paul in prison." There was no justice to be had from this unjust judge. It was not that he lacked sense, or wisdom, or judgment. He had all these, and so much the worse for him; but he was willing to sacrifice everything for his own ends. His hope of money had come to nothing. So now he leaves Paul bound to please those Jews whom he deeply despised. He was willing to do something that would win him favour with them, as long as it cost him nothing.

As Felix and Drusilla had a most solemn warning from the prisoner, so now Agrippa and Bernice, along with Festus, were to hear an appeal that leaves no soul as it finds it. Truth set before the conscience brings a responsibility. Eternity will make that responsibility fully plain, and so will the judgment seat of Christ. Yet the man forced against his will to feel its power can ask, What is truth? and go out hard and miserable from the presence of the One who alone can give the full answer.

Festus was simply a man of the world. Of grace, of truth, he had no idea. The invisible and eternal realities were to him only imaginative notions. Present things, changeable and fleeting as they are, were his life and his all. God was in none of his thoughts. Apart from the Lord Jesus, He remains unknown.

Paul had not failed earlier to convey even to Festus the thing that lay at the heart of the whole matter. In speaking to Agrippa about his case, Festus said the argument centred on "a certain Jesus, who was dead, but whom Paul asserted to be alive." This shows that, pagan though he was and with no real understanding, he had grasped the central fact of the gospel. The death and resurrection of Christ are the basis of all blessing, and the full declaration of the love of God.

This awakened Agrippa's interest, and he asked if he might hear what Paul had to say. God was certainly behind this, to bring about a remarkable occasion in which Paul the prisoner could bear witness to the Lord Jesus with many present. What an unusual situation, where a gathering of great men is brought together to hear an address by a prisoner!

Festus arrived, and after three days he went up to Jerusalem. Feeling against Paul ran so high that the high priest and the other leaders accused him at once. They asked Festus to have him brought to Jerusalem. Though years had passed, they still meant to keep their vow and take their revenge. Such is religious bitterness!

These two years had neither lessened the hatred of the Jews nor awakened their consciences. And in the Roman, Festus, only low motives were at work — love of self and of his own importance.

The chief priests and elders would still use foul means to get rid of a man against whom they could prove nothing.

The case was as plain as it could be. The accusations were without proof; the defence was complete. The Jews were simply bitter enemies. The apostle had not broken any of the many serious charges they laid to his account.

A new governor might prove more easily swayed than the old one. So the chief priests and leading men approached Festus. They asked him to have Paul brought to Jerusalem and tried there. Their plan was to ambush and kill him on the road. But God watched over His servant. Festus refused. He rightly answered that Paul should be tried at Caesarea, and that as many of his accusers as were able should go down there to prosecute.

The providence of God is still at work. On one side the Jews, under the appearance of a favour, sought to have the apostle ambushed on the road to Jerusalem. On the other, the governor stood on the dignity of his office and would not have it lowered... It is possible that he knew little or nothing of their murderous plans. If so, it was the secret care of God for a man unjustly attacked.

The explanation given to the king was not unskilful... Roman self-satisfaction breaks out in the claim that their policy was one of unbending, impartial fairness. It was an excellent principle, but by no means the rule in the provinces or at home... And could he blame himself for any lack of zeal in the public cause? ... But there was nothing solid before the court; no breach of public order or decency, and no private wrong of violence or corruption.

In this sudden change on the part of Festus we may see the hand of God. During the night after the uproar in the council, the Lord had appeared to Paul. He told him he must bear witness to Him in Rome. Now He controls circumstances to bring this about. Festus's suggestion led Paul to appeal to Caesar, a privilege that belonged to him as a Roman citizen.

Whatever the Jews might do or wish, Roman law was fair enough to insist that an accused person should have his accusers face to face, and be allowed to answer for himself about the charge laid against him.

Festus could not give the emperor any reasonable account of the prisoner who had appealed. So he states the case to a man whom report described as well versed in all Jewish questions. Agrippa was in some ways the more zealous about religion because he was not of Israelite descent, and he was also well known for his devotion to Roman interests.

Roman self-satisfaction breaks out in the claim that their policy was one of unbending and impartial fairness. The principle was excellent, but it was by no means the rule in the provinces, any more than at home. Still, it suited a governor to state it as a check on the glaring injustice which both Felix and Festus surely saw in this prosecution... But there was nothing solid before the court: no breach of the public peace or of decency, and no private wrong by violence or corruption. It was absurd to bring before a Roman court the matters that occupied Paul's accusers.

Festus had refused this very favour to the Jews in Jerusalem. He must have known why Paul had been hurried down to Caesarea. His motive was to win favour with the Jews.

There was another obstacle in his way — his good opinion of himself, and his effort to claim from others the highest character for honesty and honour, energy and prudence. This runs through his speech, just as it ran through the self-applauding letter of the commander Claudius Lysias in Acts 23:25-30. What is man to be reckoned, whose breath is in his nostrils? One look at self in God's presence puts a man in dust and ashes.

The providence of God is still in action. On the one hand the Jews sought, under the appearance of a favour, to have the apostle ambushed on the road to Jerusalem; on the other, the governor stood by the dignity of his office and would not have it lowered. He may have known little or nothing of their murderous plans. If so, it was the secret care of God for one unjustly attacked... The Lord in any case watched over His servant.

If I take the noun "perdition" or "destruction," the result is the same. No single passage shows that it means ceasing to exist. In many, it means turning something to a bad account, and the like... Judas is "the son of perdition." Now it is certain, as we have seen, this does not mean cease to exist (John 17:12). Deliver to die (Acts 25:16).

Roman self-satisfaction breaks out in the claim that their policy was one of firm and impartial fairness. It is an excellent principle, but it was by no means the rule in the provinces, any more than at home. It was still convenient for a governor to lay it down as a check on obvious injustice — and Felix and Festus surely saw obvious injustice in this prosecution. And who could accuse himself of lacking zeal for the public good? The Jews had been prompt enough to come down from Jerusalem to accuse him at Caesarea. And the governor had not lost a day in sitting to judge the case — if there had been a case according to Roman law.

But there was nothing solid before the court. There was no breach of public peace or decency, and no private wrong by violence or corruption either. It was absurd to bring matters like those of Paul's accusers before a Roman tribunal. There were no facts; only questions of an imaginary kind, as far as the court was concerned.

There was another obstacle in his way — his good opinion of himself. Another was his effort to claim from others the highest reputation for honesty and honour, energy and prudence. This runs right through his speech. It ran the same way through the self-congratulating letter of Claudius Lysias in Acts 23:25-30. What is man to be reckoned, whose breath is in his nostrils? One look at self in God's presence puts a man in dust and ashes… Where there is no self-judgment, the Saviour is only "one Jesus," like any other child of man.

To Festus the presence of Agrippa II at this moment must have seemed very convenient. He had to send Paul on to Rome, but did not know what to say about him to Nero. He did not understand the questions the Jews had raised. One great point of dispute seemed foolish to him. It was about, he said, one Jesus who was dead, whom Paul affirmed to be alive (25:19).

Paul had not failed earlier to convey even to Festus the thing that lay at the heart of the whole matter. In speaking to Agrippa about his case, Festus said the dispute centred on "one Jesus, who was dead, but whom Paul asserted to be alive." This shows that, pagan though he was and with no real understanding, he had grasped the central fact of the gospel. The death and resurrection of Christ are the basis of all blessing, and the full declaration of the love of God.

Agrippa's interest was awakened by this, and he asked if he might hear what Paul had to say. This suited Festus well, for he thought Agrippa might shed some light on the problem he faced… God was certainly behind it. He was bringing about a remarkable occasion in which Paul the prisoner could bear witness to the Lord Jesus, with many present. How unusual a situation — a gathering of great men brought together to hear an address by a prisoner!

The Jews were quick enough to come down from Jerusalem and accuse him in Caesarea. The governor did not lose a day in sitting to judge the case — if there had been a case under Roman law. But there was nothing solid before the court. There was no breach of public peace or decency, and no private wrong through violence or corruption.

In giving the information, Festus says the charges against Paul were nothing like what he had expected. He had supposed that a man so strongly condemned by the Jews would face very different charges.

He tells them Paul's story. And he gives himself a character for fairness and loyalty to the principles of justice and honour — as we find everywhere in the world, and here too.

Festus was just a man of the world. Of grace, of truth, he had no notion. The invisible and eternal realities were to him only imaginative ideas. Present things, changeable and fleeting as they are, were his life and all.

The apostle's innocence was established. Lysias had reached that conclusion after hearing what the Jewish council had to say against him. Felix admitted it too, without saying so openly. He ordered the centurion to keep Paul in custody until Lysias came. Yet he allowed him some freedom, and let his friends visit him and care for him. And now Festus, Agrippa, and the governor's council all agreed in declaring him innocent. Every man who had legal authority over him was convinced of the same thing: the charges the Jews kept pressing had no ground.

This was the Lord's care of His beloved servant. He wanted Paul's judges to prove and acknowledge his innocence, and to see it fully established before the world.

This is how God's purpose was fulfilled. His providence brought Paul to Rome, so that he would bear witness there before the Emperor himself. This was not what Festus thought, nor the Jews, nor was it the testimony of the Spirit in Paul. But the will of God is carried out without the will of men.

It is unlikely that even a Roman governor of Judea would be so rude as to call the views in dispute a "superstition," above all when speaking to King Agrippa. Paul did not describe the Athenians that way either, when he was setting Jesus and the resurrection before them. So it is better to take the kinder sense, or at least the neutral one. The word clearly carries that sense in writers of that time whose work survives. "Religion" is the choice here; others have suggested "system of worship" in a similar sense.

There was nothing solid before the court. There was no breach of public peace or decency, and no private wrong by violence or fraud. It was absurd to bring before a Roman tribunal the matters that occupied Paul's accusers. There were no facts; for the court, only questions of an imaginary kind.

There was another obstacle in his way: his good opinion of himself. He worked to claim from others the highest reputation for honesty and honour, energy and prudence. This runs all through his speech... Where there is no self-judgment, the Saviour is only "one Jesus," like any other human being. The man who speaks that way is a sinner ripening for judgment.

Why the Jews should have condemned him Festus could not understand, for they made no accusation of the sort of things he had expected, only "certain questions of their own superstition, and of one Jesus, who was dead, whom Paul affirmed to be alive." Questions, nothing but questions! Just a speculation about the life and death of "one Jesus." That was all Festus could say or see.

Paul had already got across even to Festus what lay at the heart of the whole matter. Speaking to Agrippa about the case, Festus said the dispute centred on "one Jesus, who was dead, whom Paul affirmed to be alive." So, pagan though he was and with no real understanding, he had grasped the central fact of the gospel. The death and resurrection of Christ are the basis of all blessing, and the full declaration of the love of God. We know something of this, while he knew nothing of it. Still, Paul had made it plain.

The Son came to bring God into the world and put sin out of it. When you know that infinite truth, how shocking is the dark unbelief that skates over facts so immense with the words, "one Jesus now dead, whom Paul asserted to be alive"! The vindication of God's moral glory, the display of His love, and the proof of coming judgment all turn on it. Without it, sin reigns in death, and there is destruction for sinners without exception or hope... Jesus alive from the dead for evermore has changed everything.

How little he knew what he was saying! How little he knew what was involved in the question of whether "Jesus" was "dead" or "alive"! He gave no thought to how seriously that great question bore on himself and his friends, Agrippa and Bernice. But that did not change the matter... That staggering question settles the destiny of every child of Adam. In the judgement of Festus, it was an empty superstition.

Festus looked on the death of the "one Jesus" as the close and end of everything to do with Him. He looked on Paul's claim about resurrection as something peculiar to Paul. And he looked on the whole affair as a set of subtle questions tied to superstition, out of which it was very hard to make anything definite... I greatly fear that people who merely profess Christianity know the death and resurrection of the Lord in much the same way.

It seems the governor brought Paul before Agrippa because he did not know what to report to the emperor. Festus was just a man of the world. Of grace, of truth, he had no notion. The invisible and eternal realities were to him only imaginative ideas... God was in none of his thoughts; apart from the Lord Jesus He remains unknown.

How little we can rely on man. Festus had refused this very favour to the Jews in Jerusalem. He could hardly be in the dark about why Paul was rushed down to Caesarea. His motive was to win favour with the Jews.

Those two years had not lessened the hatred of the Jews, and had not awakened their consciences. In the Roman, Festus, only low motives were at work — love of self and love of his own importance.

Festus could not understand why the Jews would condemn him... Questions, nothing but questions! Just a speculation about the life and death of "one Jesus" — that was all Festus could say or see. Yet in the death and resurrection of Christ lies the only hope of man. Had He never died, there would be no forgiveness; had He not risen, there would be no salvation. His precious blood alone can cleanse. His life in glory guarantees eternal happiness to the believer. His resurrection, on the other hand, is the pledge of judgment on the sinner. The issues of an eternal future hang on a matter which Festus would regard as merely a "question."

This shows that he had grasped the central fact of the gospel, even though he was a pagan with no real understanding. The death and resurrection of Christ are the basis of all blessing, and the full declaration of the love of God. We know something of this, while he knew nothing of it. Still, Paul had made it plain.

There was another obstacle in his way: his good opinion of himself. He worked hard to claim from others the highest reputation for honesty and honour, energy and good sense... Where there is no self-judgment, the Saviour is only "one Jesus," like any other child of man. The one who speaks like that is a sinner ripening for judgment.

In this sudden change on the part of Festus we may see the hand of God. During the night after the uproar in the council, the Lord had appeared to Paul. He told him that he must bear witness to Him in Rome. Now He controls circumstances to bring this about. The suggestion from Festus led Paul to appeal to Caesar, a privilege that belonged to him as a Roman citizen. Paul knew that the proposed change of place was the first step towards handing him over to his enemies, though Festus knew very well that he had done no wrong.

Sad picture of man's injustice! But everything accomplishes the purposes of God... To human eyes it was perhaps his only way out. But the Holy Spirit is careful to tell us that he might have been set free if he had not appealed to Caesar.

An appeal to the Emperor was the right of a Roman citizen. Provincial governors did have some discretion to grant or withhold the privilege. In this case there was no ground for refusing it, and Festus and his council agreed on that point.

He, the governor, found that Paul had done nothing that deserved death. But he does not explain why he himself had caused the appeal to the emperor. It was his own proposal that the prisoner should go to Jerusalem for judgment. Paul knew too that worldly religion is the least just and most cruel of all things. He refused to be moved away from Caesar's court, and appealed to the emperor.

In this sudden change on the part of Festus we may see the hand of God. During the night after the uproar in the council, the Lord had appeared to Paul. He told him that he must bear witness to Him in Rome. Now He controls circumstances to bring this to pass... Paul knew that the proposed move was the first step toward handing him over to his enemies, though Festus knew very well that he had done no wrong... Having appealed to Caesar, to Rome he must go.

This was how God's purpose was fulfilled. His providence brought Paul to Rome, so that there he should bear witness before the Emperor himself. This was not the thought of Festus, nor of the Jews, nor yet the testimony of the Spirit in Paul. But God accomplishes His will without the will of men.

To human eyes it was perhaps his only option in the circumstances. But the Holy Spirit is careful to tell us that he could have gone free if he had not appealed to Caesar.

If he was to testify at Rome as he had at Jerusalem, may not this appeal have seemed to him simply acting in line with the divine will? It was in fact what took him there. How can we decide that it was lack of faith, or lack of wisdom? This was a man who had far more of both than any of us. He stood in the circumstances as we do not, and he knew all that this involved far better.

The governor sent Paul to Rome for a hearing before the Emperor Nero. The Lord had already determined that he should bear witness to his Saviour there. He himself had long wished to see the believers in Rome... Roman law required his transfer to the capital. His presence there would further God's purposes. It would also fulfil desires he had long cherished. So Paul was not going against his will, though the circumstances were not ones he had foreseen.

To Festus the presence of Agrippa II at this moment must have seemed very timely. He had to send Paul on to Rome, but did not know what to say about him to Nero. The questions the Jews had raised he did not understand, and one great subject of the dispute seemed foolish to him. It was about, he said, one Jesus who was dead, whom Paul claimed to be alive. Could Agrippa help him here? He, a Jew, was better able to understand the mind of his countrymen, and why they were so openly hostile to Paul. Agrippa had surely heard of Paul already. No one else alive stirred up such hatred and malice among his countrymen. Now, unexpectedly, he had the chance to see and hear him.

Festus could give the emperor no reasonable account of the prisoner who had appealed. So he states the case to a man whom common report described in two ways. On the one hand, he was well versed in all Jewish questions, and in some ways all the more zealous about religion because he was not of Israelite descent. On the other hand, everyone knew how devoted he was to the Roman interest. … To hear the case might satisfy the curiosity of Herod Agrippa, and perhaps also relieve Festus of some perplexity.

By race Agrippa was an Edomite, but by religion a Jew. He was therefore well informed about the religious questions of the country. He was also curious. He wanted to know clearly, and from a reliable source, what this Christianity might be that had so stirred up the people of his country. So he asks to hear Paul.

In Agrippa there was, I believe, more curiosity than conscience. Still, he may have had some desire to use the occasion to learn what this teaching was that had so stirred up people's minds. That was a willingness to inquire, and it was more than curiosity.

Agrippa and Bernice came to greet Festus. Their visit became the occasion for Paul to bear a third testimony before governors and kings. We are now given a much fuller view of the powerful way in which he presented the truth.

God was certainly behind this. He brought about a remarkable occasion in which Paul the prisoner could bear witness to the Lord Jesus with many people present. What an unusual situation — a gathering of great men, brought together to hear an address by a prisoner!

Agrippa is interested in a different way. He would be glad to hear the man himself. Festus answers at once that he shall hear him. The next day Festus holds a public audience, where Paul will plead his case. Little do they think what it means for everyone there — the hearing they are about to give this poor prisoner!

Felix and Drusilla had already received a most solemn warning from the prisoner. Now Agrippa and Bernice, along with Festus, were to hear an appeal that leaves no soul as it finds it. Truth set before the conscience carries a responsibility. Eternity — not to mention the judgment seat of Christ — will fully reveal it.

The next day Agrippa and Bernice came to the place of hearing with great pomp and ceremony. With them came the chief captains and principal men of the city. God was certainly behind this. He brought about a remarkable occasion, where Paul the prisoner could bear witness to the Lord Jesus in front of many. What an unusual situation! A gathering of great men comes together to hear a prisoner speak.

Daughter of Agrippa I, and wife of Herod of Chalcis. She visited Caesarea with her brother Agrippa II and heard Paul's defence. She later married Polemon II, king of Pontus or Cilicia. She then became the mistress of both Vespasian and Titus. In all this she kept up the immoral character of the Herods.

And here we find a remarkably fine contrast with all the glitter and pomp of the court. The king himself was a most capable man, but without moral purpose. His wife had every natural advantage, but she was sadly a woman of no character at all. Both of them were under the most painful cloud of suspicion — even in the minds of the pagans themselves, not to mention the Jews. These are the people who, with the Roman governor, sit in judgment on the apostle. And then comes forth the prisoner bound with chains. But oh, what a gulf separated them from him! What a difference in the eyes of God!

Behind these again were the heads of war and peace, the chief captains and magistrates. All the parade and pomp, counted necessary to his dignity, show man to be so little. The prisoner before them is to answer for himself. With him one soon sees that this is the least part of what he thinks of... He is heaven's ambassador, though in chains. Their condition, not his, is what moves him. The light has shone on him and it changes everything, while they are still in the dark.

What was he to write to send with the man who had appealed? ... This was his main reason for the hearing before Agrippa. The king knew Jewish customs, learning and prejudice well... As he adds, the governor thought it senseless to send on a prisoner without stating the charge against him. We shall find, however, that the outcome was a true and fresh testimony to Christ. It was far more than an answer to the governor's problem.

The relentless hostility of the Jews only brings about the fulfilment of God's purposes... So he is taken to Lysias, to Felix, to Festus, to Agrippa, and at last to Caesar. Such was the intention of God. These were also the means He used to bring the gospel to the governors and to the great. He did not raise up men of the world to do it, as many often think. Instead, God makes a prisoner His servant, so that the gospel might reach governors and kings.

Where is the pomp, the grandeur, the glitter with which Agrippa and Bernice entered Caesarea? Where are the chief captains, the principal men? Where is the court now? All gone to dust and ashes long ago... It is not so with what belonged to Paul. His dignity and his blessings cannot perish. They will shine out in all their magnificence in the day of Christ's glory.

Festus later tells Agrippa what really happened. A scene of uproar must have taken place in Jerusalem when Festus appeared. The mob shouted for Paul's death. When they noticed the governor was unwilling, they came up with another plan. They asked that Paul should be brought to Jerusalem. On the way there they intended to murder him.

The hostility of the Jews was widespread and fierce. It was aimed at the noblest man of their own nation and the most honoured servant of the Lord. Their cry in the holy city and elsewhere was that he ought not to live any longer. The governor found that Paul had done nothing deserving death. But he does not explain why he himself had caused the appeal to the emperor. It was his own proposal that the prisoner should go to Jerusalem for judgment. Paul knew too that worldly religion is of all things the least just and the most cruel.

He soon learnt enough of the Jews to make him guilty in his willingness to gratify them by sacrificing Paul. Policy is a sad destroyer of conscience.

Here we find a remarkably fine contrast with all the glitter and pomp of the court. The king himself was a very capable man, but with no moral purpose. His wife, whatever natural gifts she had, was sadly a woman of no character at all. Both of them lay under a most painful cloud of suspicion even in the minds of the pagans, let alone the Jews. These are the people who, with the Roman governor, sit in judgment on the apostle. And then the prisoner comes forward bound with chains. But oh, what a gulf separated them from him! What a difference in the eyes of God!

The prisoner before them is to answer for himself. With him one soon sees that this is the least part of what occupies his mind, though it does shape the way he speaks. He is heaven's ambassador, though in chains; it is their condition, not his, that moves him.

This was his main reason for the hearing before Agrippa, who knew Jewish customs, learning and prejudice well… He adds that it made no sense to send a prisoner on without stating the charge against him. As we shall see, the outcome was far more than an answer to the governor's problem. It was a true and fresh testimony to Christ.

In this sudden change on the part of Festus we may see the hand of God. After the uproar in the Jewish council, the Lord had appeared to Paul that night. He told him that he must bear witness to Him in Rome. Now He controls circumstances to bring this about.

This fulfilled what the Lord said to Ananias at the time of Paul's conversion: that Paul should bear testimony to the Lord's name before Gentiles, and kings, and the children of Israel.

He, the governor, found that Paul had committed nothing which deserved death. But he does not explain why he himself had brought about the appeal to the emperor. It was his own proposal that the prisoner should go to Jerusalem for judgment. Paul knew that worldly religion is the least just and the most cruel of all things. So he refused the move away from Caesar's court, and appealed to Augustus.

The suggestion from Festus led Paul to appeal to Caesar, a privilege that belonged to him as a Roman citizen. Festus knew very well that Paul had done no wrong. Yet Paul knew the proposed move was the first step towards being handed over to his enemies. If Festus began giving in to the outcry to please the Jews, he would end by giving in to everything. Paul's appeal settled the matter. Having appealed to Caesar, to Rome he must go.

Festus should have realised there was no reason at all to send Paul to Caesar's court. He should have set him free. Instead the cost grows: imprisonment and a voyage to Rome, on top of the two years the Roman government had already spent supporting him — not to mention the added unrighteousness of it.

Paul's innocence was established. Lysias had reached that conclusion after hearing what the Sanhedrin had to say against him. Felix admitted it too, without saying so. He ordered the centurion to keep Paul in custody until Lysias came, yet allowed him freedoms, and the right to see his friends and let them care for him. And now Festus, Agrippa, and the governor's council all agreed in declaring him innocent. Every man with legal authority over him was sure the charges the Jews kept pressing had no foundation.

Pilate protested three times. Both he and Herod had found no fault in Him: "After examining him before you, behold, I did not find this man guilty of any of your charges against him. Neither did Herod... Look, nothing deserving death has been done by him." He said a third time, "Why? What evil has he done? I have found in him no guilt deserving death."

To human eyes it was perhaps his only option in the circumstances. But the Holy Spirit is careful to tell us this: he might have been set free if he had not appealed to Caesar.

The verdict of a private discussion is, "This man is doing nothing to deserve death." Herod Agrippa said to Festus, "This man could have been set free if he had not appealed to Caesar." If Paul had not made his appeal to Caesar he might have been freed then. We have seen already that his appeal to Rome was according to the will of the Lord. So to Rome he goes. Everything is arranged by a gracious Lord.

Festus cares nothing for justice, only for pleasing the people. Paul replies with great dignity. Festus knew well that he had done nothing wrong, and had no right to hand him over to his enemies. Paul ends by appealing to Caesar. This was how God fulfilled His purpose. His providence brought Paul to Rome, and there Paul would bear witness before the Emperor himself. This was not what Festus intended, nor the Jews, nor was it the testimony of the Spirit in Paul. But God's will is accomplished without theirs.

But then a difficulty arose. What was he to write and send with the man who had appealed? "I have nothing definite to write to my lord about him." This was his main motive for the hearing before Agrippa. The king knew Jewish customs, learning and prejudice well. "Therefore I have brought him before you all, and especially before you, King Agrippa, so that, after we have examined him, I may have something to write." The governor thought it senseless to send on a prisoner without stating the charge against him. But we shall find that the outcome was a true and fresh testimony to Christ far more than an answer to the governor's problem.

Festus had rightly seized the point at issue, yet the whole matter stayed a mystery to him. His address to Agrippa makes that clear. The court had assembled, Paul came forward, and the proceedings began. He had nothing certain to write to his lord, the emperor in Rome. Agrippa knew the Jewish religion better. He hoped the king could help him see more clearly what was at stake, and know what to say.

Festus was just a man of the world. Of grace, of truth, he had no idea. The invisible and eternal realities were to him only imaginative ideas. Present things, changeable and fleeting as they are, were his life and his all. God was in none of his thoughts; apart from the Lord Jesus He remains unknown.

The apostle's innocence was established. Lysias had reached that conclusion after hearing what the Jewish council had to say against him (23:29). Felix admitted it too, without ever saying so. He told the centurion to keep Paul in custody until Lysias came, yet he allowed him liberty and let his friends visit and care for him. And now Festus, Agrippa, and the governor's council all agreed in declaring his innocence. Every man with legal authority over him saw that the charges the Jews kept pressing had no ground.

A great crowd had gathered, and there was much pomp. Then in came the prisoner. What a contrast! Perhaps they looked on him with pity as they saw the chain. But more pity must have filled the heart of the great servant of Christ. He saw the poor lost souls decked out with the miserable tinsel of earth.

There may have been no free action of the Spirit in Paul himself. Still, the providence of God cares for him and orders everything for the testimony he was to bear... he is conducted to Lysias, to Felix, to Festus, to Agrippa, and at last to Caesar. Such was the intention of God. These were also the means He used to bring the gospel to governors and to the great. He did not raise up men of the world to do it, as many often think. God makes a prisoner His servant, so that governors and kings might hear the gospel. "But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong."

But then a difficulty arose. What was he to write to send with the man who had appealed? As he said, "I have nothing definite to write to my lord about him." That was his main reason for the hearing before Agrippa. Agrippa knew Jewish customs, learning and prejudice well. Of course the governor thought it senseless to send on a prisoner without stating the charge against him. But we will see that the outcome was a true and fresh testimony to Christ far more than a solution to the governor's problem.

Festus ought to have realised there was no reason at all to send Paul to Caesar's court. Paul should have gone free. Instead the Roman government pays for his imprisonment and his voyage to Rome, on top of two years of supporting him. And that is not to mention the added unrighteousness of it.

Paul's innocence was now beyond doubt. Lysias had reached that conclusion after hearing what the Jewish council had to say against him. Felix admitted it too, though never in words. He told the centurion to keep Paul in custody until Lysias came, yet he allowed him some freedom, and let his friends visit and care for him. And now Festus, Agrippa, and the governor's council all agree in declaring his innocence. Everyone with legal authority over him was convinced that the charges the Jews kept pressing had no ground.

Paul had already got the heart of the whole matter across, even to Festus. Festus told Agrippa the dispute was about "a certain Jesus, who was dead, but whom Paul asserted to be alive." He was a pagan with no real understanding. Yet he had grasped the central fact of the gospel. The death and resurrection of Christ are the basis of all blessing, and the full declaration of the love of God.

But the wisdom of the world is folly. It slights the grace and truth which came by Jesus Christ. … Festus showed that blindness of unbelief now, and Agrippa showed it afterwards. It filled the other rulers of this age. For had they known, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.

But Rome was to have its share in rejecting the gospel of grace and the testimony to the church. So Paul appeals to Caesar. Festus must therefore send him there, though he is embarrassed about what crime to charge him with. Sad picture of man's injustice! But everything accomplishes the purposes of God. … In the eyes of man the appeal was perhaps his only way out. But the Holy Spirit is careful to tell us that he could have gone free if he had not appealed to Caesar.

Here we find a striking contrast with all the glitter and pomp of the court. … And then out comes the prisoner bound with chains. But oh, what a gulf separated them from him! What a difference in the eyes of God! … In all the splendour of earth's rank and dignity they sat to hear the poor but rich prisoner of the Lord.

Festus had rightly seized the point at issue. Even so, it was all a mystery to him. His address to Agrippa makes this clear. The court had assembled, Paul was brought forward, and the proceedings began. Festus had nothing definite to write to his lord, the emperor in Rome. He hoped that Agrippa, who knew Jewish religion better, might help him understand more clearly what was at stake, and know what to say.

And here we find a remarkably fine contrast with all the glitter and pomp of the court. The king himself was a most capable man, but he had no moral purpose. His wife had every natural advantage, but she was, sadly, a woman of no character at all. The most painful cloud of suspicion hung over them both — in the minds of the pagans themselves, not to mention the Jews. These are the people who, with the Roman governor, sit in judgment on the apostle. And then the prisoner comes forward bound with chains. But what a gulf separated them from him! What a difference in the eyes of God!

This time there were no long, tedious opening formalities. Agrippa at once gave Paul permission to speak for himself. Set free in this way, he could leave aside all mere details of self-defence. He acknowledged Agrippa's expert knowledge, asked for a patient hearing, and came straight to the message God had entrusted to him.

It may be a small matter, yet one mistake is worth avoiding. What the apostle does here is not what he did in the synagogue of Antioch in Pisidia (Acts 13:16), nor what Alexander did in the disorderly assembly at Ephesus (Acts 19:33). Those acts were a "beckoning with the hand". That is quite different in character and aim from stretching the hand out — and here the hand had a chain on it. What a witness to the world's hatred of God's infinite grace in Christ! For, leaving aside all his loving labours, in what had His servant done wrong? He was sharing the sufferings of Christ.

Notice how the apostle graciously passes by the various slanders of the Jews. Their hired orator had put those slanders forward, and unscrupulous men supported his charges. Paul says instead how glad he is to speak before the king, a man so unusually well informed in all the ways and controversies of Jews.

After this the apostle has to give account of himself. In doing so he fulfils the predictions of the Lord in a striking way. The malice of the Jews brought him before tribunals. Their hatred handed him over to the Gentiles. It was all to turn into testimony. Kings and rulers shall hear the gospel.

At the time of Paul's conversion the Lord told Ananias that Paul would bear testimony to His name before Gentiles, and kings, and the children of Israel. This is how that word was being fulfilled.

Here we find a remarkably fine contrast with all the glitter and pomp of the court. The king himself was a most capable man, but had no moral purpose. His wife, however gifted she may have been naturally, was sadly a woman of no character at all. Both of them lay under the most painful cloud of suspicion even in the minds of the heathen, not to speak of the Jews. These are the people who, along with the Roman governor, sit in judgment on the apostle. And then the prisoner comes out, bound with chains. But oh, what a gulf separated them from him! What a difference in the eyes of God! In all the splendour of earth's rank and dignity they sat to hear the poor but rich prisoner of the Lord.

It may be a small matter, yet one mistake is worth avoiding. Do not confuse what the apostle does here with what he did in the synagogue at Antioch in Pisidia (Acts 13:16), or with what Alexander did in the disorderly crowd at Ephesus (Acts 19:33). That was beckoning with the hand. Stretching out the hand is quite different in character and aim — and here there was a chain on it too. What a witness to the world's hatred of God's infinite grace in Christ! For, leaving aside all his loving labours, in what had His servant done wrong? He was sharing the sufferings of Christ.

The apostle's opening words are truly gracious. Even as he stands in chains the great apostle counts himself happy. His happiness lay in what he knew. He now had the privilege of bearing witness to his Lord, and to the gospel entrusted to him, before such an audience. What an opportunity it was to him, and how he rejoiced that he could speak of the One he served.

Notice how graciously the apostle passes by the various slanders of the Jews. Their hired speaker and the unscrupulous men who backed his charges had brought those slanders forward. He says he is glad to speak before someone as competent as the king in all the ways and disputes of Jews. Yet even in that acknowledgement he first calls the accusations the charges of Jews, not of "the" Jews.

Being above all circumstances, Paul is complete master of the occasion... But how high his nearness to God lifts him — the poor prisoner, the despised Jew — above both governors and kings! He treats them with deference and respect, as was his duty. But he can do so from a place of moral superiority over them, which he had by faith in a glorified Saviour.

He had happiness in Christ, the dignity of his heavenly calling, the favour of God, and the knowledge of the Father and the Son. He had all that God was to him, all that Christ was, and the love of God declared in death. He had the joy of bearing in a small measure the reproach of Christ, of suffering shame, blows and imprisonments for His name. He had the privilege of confessing Him before these proud rulers as well as before the lowliest of God's creatures. These sweet and glorious thoughts, made real to his soul by the power of the divine Spirit, lifted him up and held him as far above that glittering circle around Agrippa as heaven is above earth.

Here we find a remarkably fine contrast with all the glitter and pomp of the court. The king himself was a most capable man, but he had no moral purpose... In all the splendour of earth's rank and dignity they sat to hear the poor but rich prisoner of the Lord.

The opening words of the apostle are indeed gracious. Even as he stands in chains the great apostle counts himself happy. His happiness came from one thing: he now had the privilege of bearing witness of his Lord, and of the gospel entrusted to him, before such an audience. What an opportunity it was to him, and how he rejoiced that he could speak of the One whom he served. He also honoured the king with a brief remark. In it he said how glad he was to speak before a man who knew Jewish customs and questions so well.

Agrippa is tolerant and not without interest. He has an air of openness, and he is an expert in all Jewish questions. Scandalous suspicions hung over his life. Yet he was the guardian of the temple, and the choice of the high priest lay in his hands. Paul speaks to him with confidence in his knowledge, and in his belief in the prophets too. The outcome shows a certain effect of the apostle's words on him. There is a certain openness to conviction, which he seems aware of himself, even while he shrinks from it.

Notice how graciously the apostle passes by the various slanders of the Jews. Their paid speaker put those slanders forward, along with the unscrupulous men who supported his charges. He says he is glad to speak before someone so unusually competent as the king in all the ways and controversies of Jews. Yet even here he makes a point of it first: such accusations come from Jews, not from "the" Jews.

On this occasion there were no tedious preliminary proceedings. Agrippa at once gave Paul permission to speak for himself. That set him free. He could leave aside all the mere details of self-defence and come straight to the message God had entrusted to him. First he acknowledged Agrippa's expert knowledge and begged for a patient hearing.

He tells the story of his miraculous conversion to justify his later career. But he tells it in a way that works on the conscience of Agrippa. Agrippa knew about Jewish things, and he clearly wanted to hear something of Christianity, which he suspected was the truth. So he grabs the chance to hear the apostle explain it. But he remains much where he was.

The apostle asks for a patient hearing from someone as well versed as Agrippa. He dwells (verses 4, 5) on his known early life, lived under strict Pharisaic belief and discipline "among my nation and at Jerusalem". All Jews who knew of that life from its start could testify to it, if they were willing.

God wanted the world to see the innocence of His beloved servant. Paul's speech moves toward this. He goes further, but his aim is to give an account of his conduct. He tells of his miraculous conversion to justify the later course of his life.

Here there is a distinct and unusual peculiarity; for "all the Jews" are not meant, but all Jews knowing Paul before from the outset.

"As to the law, a Pharisee." Speaking to King Agrippa, Paul said: "According to the strictest party of our religion I have lived as a Pharisee." To the Council he could say: "I am a Pharisee, a son of Pharisees." He was also brought up in Jerusalem, at the "feet of Gamaliel." Gamaliel was a Pharisee and a teacher of the law, honoured by all the people, and apparently a wise and good man (Acts 22:3 and 5:34). There was no higher position in the Jews' religion to which Paul could attain.

He had a good conscience as a man, but a badly informed one. He did things against Jesus which he thought he ought to do. Education so often twists the conscience — and this was his case. He followed its directions and obeyed its orders, and by that very thing he opposed Christ with all his might. What he did in good conscience was the greatest possible wickedness… We may have conscience, religion, learning, and the approval of the teachers of this world, and still be at open war with the Lord.

That is, outwardly he was a most religious man. As he says elsewhere, "as to righteousness under the law, blameless" (Phil. 3:6). By the law's standard he was a spotless man. He had done everything a man could be expected to do to win a place before God, yet he had to give it all up. You may have as much righteousness of your own as you like, my friend; but it will not do for God.

I may be a person of blameless morals; of spotless reputation; someone who makes a great profession of religion; a worker in the vineyard; a Sunday-school teacher; an office-bearer in some branch of the professing church; an ordained minister… I may be all this and more. I may be, and I may have, everything a human being can possibly be or have — and still not be converted.

"As to law, a Pharisee." Speaking to King Agrippa, Paul said: "According to the strictest party of our religion I have lived as a Pharisee." And to the Council he could say: "I am a Pharisee, the son of a Pharisee." He was also brought up in Jerusalem, at the "feet of Gamaliel," a Pharisee, a teacher of the law, and a man respected by all the people. He seems to have been wise and good. (Acts 22:3 & 5:34). There was no higher position in the Jews' religion that Paul could reach.

They prided themselves on their superior sanctity of life, devotion to God, and their study of the law... Paul, when before Agrippa, spoke of them as "the most straitest sect."

we may note that the apostle begs for a patient hearing from one so skilled as Agrippa, and dwells (vv. 4, 5) on his known early life under strict Pharisaic belief and discipline "among my nation and at Jerusalem", as all Jews who knew it from its outset could testify if willing.

Paul, speaking of the Pharisees, to which party he had once belonged, called it the strictest sect — hairesis (literally heresy) — of our religion. (Acts 26:5.) The sect of the Pharisees was regarded as orthodox in their creed; but Paul uses of them that word... An heretical man, then, need not be one who denies any article of the Christian faith. He is a heretic who allows his mind or will to work in connection with doctrine, thereby producing or countenancing a sect.

The word "religious" here used refers to the manifestation. It is neither εὐσεβὴς, pious or godly; nor is it λατρεύων, rendering a religious service or worship to God. It means religious practice paid outwardly. Compare Acts 26:5; Col. 2:18, 23.

He was a Hebrew of the Hebrews, and after the strictest sect he lived a Pharisee; that was gain to him. Then he says, "I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord"... all it does is to accredit self — that is the mischief and the evil; for who would have filthy rags... when he could have Christ for his righteousness?... The deceitful lusts are bad enough, but this religious flesh is worse.

that it might be effective in every way three conditions were satisfied: the witness had to be a Pharisee of Pharisees, thoroughly versed in Jewish ways of thinking, and also a man of spotless life (Acts 26:5; Phil. 3:5-6); secondly, the most desperate persecutor of those who followed what they thought was a misleading novelty (Gal. 1:13-14); thirdly, he was to be allowed to see the personal glory of the Lord.

The question for which he stood for judgment, he insists, was the hope of the promise made by God to our fathers. Our twelve tribes serve God earnestly, day and night, hoping to reach it. How strange and flagrant that, of all men, Jews should lay accusation against him for that hope! Certainly his testimony to the risen Jesus did not weaken faith in the promise of the Messiah or in the resurrection of the dead. Yet the whole nation in their public and earnest service of God night and day bore witness of their hope of attaining to that promise.

He had been a Pharisee. Now, speaking to King Agrippa as a fellow Jew, he could say that he stood to be judged for the hope of the promise made by God to our fathers. The apostle had already stated what that promise was, and so what the hope of it meant, in the synagogue at Antioch in Pisidia (Acts 13:32-34). Agrippa well knew what Paul was referring to — the promise of a Saviour, and the deliverance of the nation under Him from their enemies (Luke 1:68-75). But fulfilling that national hope meant the resurrection of the Deliverer.

He mentions again that he was judged for the hope of the promise made by God to "our" fathers. So he reasons about the resurrection. He at once brings in what every Pharisee accepted, the main test of orthodoxy among the Jews. He applies this to the history of Jesus of Nazareth. In fact, all turned on it. If it was true that God had raised Him from the dead, what was the position of the Jews, and what was the glory of Jesus?

So from the very start of his address he kept the resurrection well to the fore, as the main point at issue. Yet resurrection lay beyond men's thoughts, whether Jewish or pagan. So he asks, "Why is it thought incredible by any of you that God raises the dead?" It would be utterly incredible if only men were in question. But bring God in — the real, true, living God — and it is incredible that He should not raise them.

The apostle Paul declares before Agrippa that he stands to be judged for the hope of the promise made by God to our fathers, to which the whole twelve tribes, serving day and night, hope to arrive. So Paul can say in words that challenge all contradiction, "I ask, then, has God rejected his people? By no means! … God has not rejected his people whom he foreknew" (Rom. 11:1 and 2). God, in the exercise of His sovereignty, declares the unchangeableness of His purpose.

It is well worth pondering that the man who, above all others, was entrusted with the truth of the heavenly calling does not give up the true hope of those whose blessing is on the earth… Before Agrippa he stands for the hope of the promises made by God to our fathers, which our twelve tribes, serving God day and night, hope to reach. He connects this with resurrection, showing that the ground of Israel's blessing is like that of everyone else — the redemption work of our Lord Jesus Christ.

He insists that the question he stood on trial for was the hope of the promise God made to our fathers (v. 6). Our twelve tribes serve earnestly, day and night, hoping to reach that promise (v. 7). How strange and shocking that, of all people, it is Jews who accuse him because of that hope! His witness to the risen Jesus certainly did not weaken faith in the promised Messiah, or in the resurrection of the dead. Yet the whole nation, by serving God publicly and earnestly night and day, testified to their hope of reaching that promise. The prisoner certainly did believe what the service of the chosen nation confessed night and day. Were Jews then contradicting the faith they boasted in?

He had been a Pharisee. Now he stood on trial for the hope of the promise God made to our fathers — and he could say this while speaking to King Agrippa as a Jew. Paul had already explained what that promise was, and so what the hope of it meant, in the synagogue at Antioch in Pisidia (13:32-34). Agrippa knew well what Paul meant: the promise of a Saviour, and the rescue of the nation from its enemies under Him (Luke 1:68-75). But what the nation expected could only be fulfilled through the resurrection of the Deliverer.

He says "the twelve tribes"… And he says "twelve," though ten are in captivity; this is faith. It is like Paul: "To which promise our twelve tribes, instantly serving God day and night, hope to come." It is like the twelve stones of Elijah at Carmel too. He could say "instantly," because it was true, even though they were serving in great ignorance and badly. Paul himself had been doing the same when he was Saul. All really honest Jews were doing so. They might have done it in a bigoted way; still they were serving.

All Israel, the twelve tribes, still have hope as to the promise, however dim and blurred it may have become in their eyes. He credits them with "instantly serving God" (though of course their zeal for God is not according to knowledge — Romans 10:2) in view of this hope. What is the true character of this hope? It is the hope of a risen Messiah who will one day take His rightful place in authority and dignity over Israel and the world.

Look at the twelve tribes as they really were at that moment. How different their case was! Ten tribes were lost. The two that had come back from Babylon had crucified their Messiah, and were now trying to put His servant Paul to death! Still faith claims them all — and all as earnestly serving God night and day in hope of the fulfilment of the promise made to the fathers! It was the same in the desert. Whatever the moral state of the camp, twelve loaves always stood on the golden table in the holy place before the Lord. They were set out in ordered beauty and covered with frankincense (Lev. 24). This is how faith enters into God's thoughts and purposes, and sees them as they stand before His eye.

As far as anyone knows they never returned… As a body they are still widely thought of as "the Lost Tribes." God knows where to find them when His set time of blessing comes. The twelve tribes certainly exist, and remnants of them will come into the land again.

He insists that the question for which he stood on trial was the hope of the promise God made to our fathers (v. 6). Our twelve tribes serve God earnestly day and night, hoping to reach that promise (v. 7). How strange and shocking that Jews, of all men, should accuse him because of that hope! ... Why is it judged incredible if God raises dead men? The prisoner certainly did believe what the service of the chosen nation confessed night and day. Were Jews then contradicting their own boasted faith?

Agrippa well knew what Paul was referring to — the promise of a Saviour, and the deliverance of the nation under Him from their enemies (Luke 1:68-75). But the nation's hope could only be fulfilled through the resurrection of the Deliverer. This is what Paul preached, and he announced the resurrection of the Lord Jesus. Why should resurrection be a stumbling-block? Is it incredible that God should raise the dead?

Paul the Pharisee was condemned by Pharisees for believing in the fulfilment of their greatest hope. His testimony included resurrection, which the Pharisees confessed and yet refused. ... Unbelief always claims to be built on reason. Against that unbelief he appeals to reason itself. Admit a God who once created all things. Then whether resurrection is believable is only a question of whether the testimony is good enough.

Yet resurrection lay beyond what men thought possible, whether Jewish or pagan. So he asked his question. If only men were involved, it would be completely unbelievable. But bring God in — the real, true, living God — and the unbelievable thing is that it should not happen.

Now, nature itself shows that God can rebuild the body. Sow a seed of wheat, or any other grain, and it falls apart. But God works in that decaying seed by processes He has ordained, and He forms a body that comes up out of its broken-down state. He raises a living body out of the dead body. If nature witnesses to the power of God in death, why should it be an incredible thing for God to raise dead men — to rebuild their bodies and raise them out of their graves? Once you see that it is only a question of the power of God, there is no difficulty.

I would like to ask these men a very old question: "Why is it thought incredible by any of you that God raises the dead?" If a fallen man were said to have won such a victory, doubt would be very reasonable. But this victory is declared to have come from the power of God, so I see no reason to question it. ... The witnesses are so many, and so completely trustworthy, that refusing to believe the fact is terrible evidence of sheer self-will.

Resurrection is the very backbone of the gospel. It is the evidence that the work of redemption is finished, that the power of the enemy is broken, that death is annulled, that sins are wiped away, and that God's claims in righteousness are met. ... I hear someone saying, "Of course God can raise the dead." Let me ask you, my friend, how do you expect to be raised? Do you expect to be raised to be judged?

Here he lets us see how unsafe a guide conscience is for the natural man, whatever his religious helps may be. He considered it his duty to oppose the name of Jesus and zealously persecute all who called on Him. Nor does God accept such a plea. He had sent His Son with proof enough that He was the Messiah. Anyone who compared God's written word with the facts about Jesus the Nazarene could see it: prophecy fulfilled, miracles worked not only by Himself but by His servants... So Paul had acted in ignorance and unbelief. Others do the same when they refuse all revelation, or misuse one part of it to reject another part that is fuller and more glorious.

He no doubt did all this with a good conscience. But note this: conscience is no guide to a man. Conscience is like the helm of a ship. If you have a correct chart and a good steersman, the helm is useful for guiding the ship's course. But if you let wind and wave toss the helm about, the ship will go on the rocks. We hear these days that if a man walks according to his conscience, all will be well for time and eternity. That teaching is not divine, and it will not do.

A man's religion may be the worst thing about him. His sincerity in it will not stop its effect on him; it makes that effect more certain. And how solemn to realise that Saul's religion was zealous law-keeping — and the law was what God Himself had given. Here was one of Moses' disciples attacking Christ — and attacking Him in that very character. Of Moses they could rightly say, "We know that God spoke by Moses."

Such is the blinding power of unbelief! It was so with Saul... Man walks in darkness, because he is darkness. His conscience is darkness, and false teaching blinds his mind too. What a man does from conscience he always does with earnestness, even though he may be acting wrongly with a blinded conscience. A person may be very conscientious in resisting the truth.

What made him chief of sinners was not immorality, but the dreadful will and purpose with which he set himself against the purpose and mind of God.

Outwardly he was a man without a spot, of faultless reputation according to the law; he had a good conscience. He believed it was his duty to do much against the name of Jesus, and he did it... conscience, legal justice, religion — everything that formed his moral life had made him the fierce enemy of the Lord of glory. But at one blow all the foundations of his moral life were ruined.

Of all who tried to blot out the name of Jesus, Saul of Tarsus went furthest. He thought it right "to do many things in opposing the name of Jesus of Nazareth." But the power living in that precious Name flooded his Pharisee heart. The words of Christ from the glory, "I am Jesus," transformed the rest of his life.

Here, before Agrippa, he does not hesitate to confess to his own shame that he shut up "many of the saints" in prisons. To the Jews he had used the vaguer expression "this Way" (Acts 22:4). Luke, in the history, spoke of "the disciples of the Lord" (Acts 9:1). How little he thought of them that way when he received the authority he needed from the chief priests! Nor was it only imprisoning. When it came to putting them to death, had he not voted against them? It was clearly so in Stephen's case, as this book records.

The word used here (psephos) means a stone or pebble which, in ancient times, had two well-known uses. In criminal cases, a white stone was given to mean acquittal; or a black one, meaning condemnation. So Paul speaks of his days before conversion, when he persecuted the Christians. He says that when they were put to death, he gave his voice against them. Literally, he gave his stone against them — the word is the same (Acts 26:10).

He would seem to have been a member of the Jewish council, before which all such heretics were tried and sentenced.

What a time it must have been! No wonder that all were scattered abroad from Jerusalem who could get away, except the apostles. Imprisonments and deaths were frequent events, and some whose faith gave way were made to blaspheme. Stephen was the first martyr, but clearly not the only one. Many were put to death at that time. It was a great execution indeed.

Conscience is so often falsified by education — and this was his case — that he followed its directions and obeyed its instructions. Through that very thing, he opposed Christ with all his might. In good conscience, he did the greatest possible wrong… With all our conscience, our religion, our learning, and the approval of the teachers of this world, we may be at open war with the Lord.

He considered it his duty to oppose the name of Jesus and zealously persecute all who called on Him. Nor does God accept such a plea. He had sent His Son with adequate proof of His Messiahship for all who would compare His written word with the facts of Jesus the Nazarene.

What then made him chief of sinners? Not immorality. Not the gross wickedness at which refined society blushes. It was the dreadful will and hateful opposition with which he set himself against the purpose and mind of God… He drove the scattered saints of God from city to city. And not only that — he forced them to blaspheme the One who to them was above everyone.

When the voice from heaven said, "Why are you persecuting Me?" — who did the Lord mean and include in that word "Me"? Was it not the very ones that Saul was committing to prison and to death (Acts 22:4-5; Acts 26:10-11)? Are we used to seeing and enjoying our position and privileges this way, as members of the body of Christ?

The chief of sinners is in heaven. How did he get there? Simply by the blood of Jesus; and what is more, he is Christ's "pattern" man. All may look at him and see how they too are to be saved… The grace that reached the chief can reach all. The blood that cleansed the chief can cleanse all.

Paul persecuted those who confessed the name of Jesus. He did this in Jerusalem, where he imprisoned many and argued for their death. In every synagogue he kept up this campaign, forcing men to blaspheme. This clearly meant trying to make them speak against the name of Jesus under threat of death. It reached even to foreign cities.

Here, before Agrippa, he is not afraid to confess to his own shame that he shut up "many of the saints" in prisons. To the Jews he had used the vaguer phrase, "this Way" (Acts 22:4), and Luke in his account spoke of "the disciples of the Lord" (Acts 9:1). How little he thought of them that way when he received his authority from the chief priests! And it was not only imprisonment. When it came to putting them to death, did he not cast his vote against them? That was clearly so with Stephen, as the book of Acts records. Did he not visit every synagogue, often punishing people and forcing blasphemy out of them where he could? And in his wild rage, did he not chase them even into cities outside the land?

And some, as we learn from Acts 26:11, gave way before such terrible treatment. They saved their lives and their place in the synagogue by speaking against the name they had claimed to honour, after having in some measure confessed the One to whom that name belongs as the One they would follow.

None knew better than he what persecution could do to shake the steadiness of anyone not fully established in grace. For had he not in the past made many blaspheme that holy name by which they were called? (Acts 26:11).

Here he shows us how unsafe a guide conscience is for the natural man, whatever religious helps he may have. He thought it was his duty to oppose the name of Jesus and to persecute with zeal everyone who called on Him. God does not accept that excuse. He had sent His Son with proof enough that He was the Messiah, for anyone willing to compare God's written word with the facts about Jesus of Nazareth.

Conscience is so often given a false direction by teaching — and that was his case — that he followed its lead and obeyed its orders, and by that very thing he opposed Christ with all his might. With a clear conscience he did the greatest possible evil... With all our conscience, our religion, our learning, and the approval of this world's teachers, we can be at open war with the Lord.

But a great change was at hand. There is no hint of relenting here or anywhere else, no feeling of pity for his victims, no trace of self-judgment or hesitation in the path he took. Who proved the Lord's own words more plainly? "They will put you out of the synagogues. Indeed, the hour is coming when whoever kills you will think he is offering service to God."

He wanted to be the active enemy of the faith wherever it was found, and to destroy the name of Jesus. He had done much at Jerusalem, but he wanted to satisfy his hatred even in foreign cities... Grace was greater than the sin, and God's patience more perfect than the persistence of man's hostility. Man's hostility was limited by what man amounts to; God's patience has no limit in His own nature except that of His sovereign will.

There are no mere repetitions in Scripture. Take the three accounts of the conversion of Saul. Even the most casual reader can see that the aim of each is quite different. The one in Acts 9 is the actual narrative of what happened, written with the pen of inspiration, so it gives the facts as history. The one in chapter 22 is Paul's own description of the change worked in his soul, spoken to the Jews in Jerusalem... The one we have in this chapter is also given by Paul himself — when standing before Agrippa. In this there are fewer details about his conversion, but a very full and precise account of his mission.

In Acts 9, we see a man on the highway to Damascus with a commission from the high priest to persecute the Jewish Christians. That was the only commission Paul received from man — an authority, not to preach the Gospel, but to stamp it out, if that were possible. But the Lord, in sovereign grace, did more than convert Saul of Tarsus. He sent him out, straight from Himself, as a preacher, an apostle, and a teacher of the Gentiles in faith and truth.

Paul received his own special commission. He gives a very beautiful statement of it in his address to Agrippa, in Acts 26: "In this connection I journeyed to Damascus with the authority and commission of the chief priests." What a different "commission" he received before he entered Damascus!

Before his conversion, he did not have this happiness. His privileges as a Jew could not give it to him. He had a good conscience as a man, but it was badly informed. He did things against Jesus that he thought he ought to do... For the rest, he knew the religion of his fathers well. He was a Pharisee of the strictest sect, very active, and marked out for his zeal. He had studied under the teacher Gamaliel. The high priest gave him his orders (v. 12), and he was in open war with the Lord Jesus... With all our conscience, our religion, our learning, and the approval of the teachers of this world, we may be at open war with the Lord.

Favourable circumstances did not throw him in the way of the gospel. It was the very opposite: he had no attachment to the Christians and no lukewarmness toward the law. All his preferences were for Israel, all his prejudices against the gospel. Still, he had carried this to the very limit. With the authority of the chief priests he had sought to persecute them to death. Yet the grace of God rose above everything in the heart of Paul, whether religious ties or religious hatred.

He did not go about it half-heartedly; he did not hand out persecution in small doses, not at all — it was a whole-hearted, thorough, real desire to wipe out every trace of Christ and of Christ's people from the scene.

Now he recounts his journey to Damascus with the authority the chief priests gave him. But the light from heaven, brighter than the sun at noon, reduced their authority to nothing.

Paul was not disobedient to the heavenly vision. He bowed to the Lord. He was right, as became a man taught of God. He "declared first to those in Damascus, then in Jerusalem and throughout all the region of Judea, and also to the Gentiles, that they should repent and turn to God, performing deeds in keeping with their repentance."

He is breathing out threats and slaughter. He is on his way to drag those simple, faithful Christians to Jerusalem, really for their murder. In one moment a light shines about him and those with him, brighter than the sun at noonday. Now, mark that! The noonday sun with us is often not very bright. Our sky is often murky. But picture the wonderful brightness of the Eastern noonday sun, when nothing dims it and it casts its rays over all the land. And yet that light was dimmed by a brighter light; and what was the mightier light? "For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ" (2 Cor. 4:6)... That light brought this self-confident, self-righteous man to the end of his own self-will. Light from heaven did it. It was not an earthquake. It was not a lightning flash. It was not a hand that struck him. It was light that struck him down.

Never was sovereign grace so clearly shown... For what could more completely prove that Christ is everything to the one who believes? Up to that moment his legal zeal against the grace of God in Christ had blinded him. To that very man Christ reveals Himself. He sweeps into nothing all that a Jew boasted in and rested on. And He identifies Himself, in the glory of God, with the One Who died between two crucified robbers — the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the whole world.

The light from heaven brought the whole company down into the dust, and not Paul only. Further, the voice was in the Hebrew language. This is remarkable. The earlier accounts tell us that his companions heard the voice, but it meant nothing to them. It was in their own language, yet they did not understand. It affected them all physically, but only Paul spiritually. Conversion does not turn on great sights or wonderful sounds. It turns on the life-giving work of the Holy Spirit. Jesus showed Himself only to Paul, and in such a way that he discovered Him to be his Lord.

By now Paul had served the glorified Son of God for a quarter of a century. Here, in his defence before King Agrippa, he declared, "at midday, O king, I saw on the way a light from heaven, above the brightness of the sun." In Acts 9, "a light from heaven"; in Acts 22, "a great light from heaven." Here, not a mid-morning light, but a light above the brightness of the noonday sun. The light had not changed. His grasp of it had changed. He had grown spiritually since that light shone on him and into his heart.

From then on, the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ eclipsed everything under the sun for that man... Every excellent thing under the sun became to him only fit for the refuse bin!

"with authority and commission from the chief priests" — what a different "commission" he received before he entered Damascus!... Here is a glorious truth: believers are joined closely to the glorified Man in Heaven. The passage does not state it outright, but it implies it in a beautiful and powerful way.

What did that "Me" mean? It meant that the persecuted saints were every one of them united to Christ in glory by the Spirit who lived in them. They were members of His Body, that which He counts to be Himself, just as He had become their life. There had been nothing like this before. The Church came into this relationship at Pentecost, but this was the first hint of it. The whole truth of it was wrapped up in the words that fell so strangely from heaven on the ears of Saul.

Making excuses for the evil was useless; zeal for Judaism was zeal against the Lord. His own conscience had only fed that zeal. God had appointed those authorities, and centuries of honour surrounded them. Yet they had only approved and encouraged his efforts against the Lord. The Jesus whom they rejected was the Lord. The testimony they were trying to crush was His testimony.

Imagine hearing your mother tongue from glory. That is what Saul heard that day... When God speaks to a sinner, He always makes him understand. When God speaks to a man, He singles that man out.

The light from heaven brought the whole company down into the dust, not Paul only. Further, the voice was in the Hebrew tongue. This is remarkable. The earlier accounts tell us that his companions heard the voice, yet it meant nothing to them. It was in their own language, yet they did not understand. They felt it in their bodies, but only Paul was reached in his soul. The essential element in conversion is not great sights, nor wonderful sounds, but the life-giving work of the Holy Spirit.

This means that Paul was like a stubborn ox. His master wanted him to go one way, and pricked him with his goad — a stick with a sharp point at the end — to make him obey. But the ox kicked the goad, and the point went into his leg, and hurt him still more. Each time he kicked, the goad hurt more.

Saul of Tarsus no doubt flinched at the words, "It is hard for you to kick against the goads." At times the natural conscience of man feels this pricking and goading. Its zeal and eagerness is forced and unreal. There are stings in the conscience, that principle which sits in judgment on men's actions. A man may try to silence its voice with fresh zeal, but it never rests.

But it is the accepted time, the day of salvation. That voice, full of infinite compassion, once more falls on his ear: "It is hard for you to kick against the goads." Hard for you! What boundless mercy! Who of Adam's race would have cared how hard the path of his persecutor had been?... The Lord does not say, "It is hard for Me to have patience with you." He does not say, "It is hard for those poor afflicted followers of Mine to bear up under your relentless persecutions." No, no — "It is hard for you. You are the one to be pitied."

The Lord's words, "It is hard for you to kick against the goads," are found only in this account. His audience would understand them well, for the comparison was not unknown to Greek and Roman writers.

Saul had not seen the Lord — he had not followed Him when He was present in the flesh. The twelve apostles had known Him in the days of His flesh, and had seen Him disappear in the cloud. They knew by faith that He was seated at the right hand of God, but they never saw His glory with their own eyes. This is where Paul begins. He saw the Lord's glory, but did not know who He was. Of one thing he was certain: the glory and the voice of the Lord Himself had appeared to him. So he asks who this is, and the Lord replies, "I am Jesus whom you are persecuting." He was not a man of the earth, nor the Messiah gone up to heaven, but the Lord of glory, still acknowledging Himself as Jesus, and also as Jesus of Nazareth.

Saul lay face down and asked, trembling, "Who are you, Lord?" The reply came from glory: "I am Jesus of Nazareth, whom you are persecuting." That name was enough to draw from a Jew words and gestures of the deepest hatred. Yet the man from Nazareth was the Lord of glory, David's Son and David's Lord at the right hand of God! It was the name Saul had thought it his duty to fight with all his energy, the name he would gladly have wiped off the earth if he could.

His church is more than a valued and beautiful possession; it is a living thing, it is His body. Looked at this way, it is not a relationship between two, but an unbreakable unity. Christ and His members are one. Jesus of Nazareth, glorified and crowned in heaven, did not say, "Why are you persecuting Mine?" but ME. The words should stop us as they stopped Saul. There is a fullness in them that few have grasped. To persecute one saint of God on earth is to persecute Christ. To despise or neglect one saint of God on earth is to despise and neglect Christ.

Stephen's martyrdom and the persecution that follows show the world in its true character as a persecutor of the saints. At the conversion of Saul we learn a further truth: in persecuting the saints, the world is persecuting Christ. The Church is one with Christ in heaven, and He is persecuted in His members. This, as it has been said, is "the strongest expression of our union with Him — that He considers the feeblest member of His Body as part of Himself."

He had a good conscience as a man, but it was poorly informed: he did things against Jesus that he thought he ought to do. Upbringing so often twists the conscience — and this was his case. He followed its directions and obeyed its orders, and by that very thing he opposed Christ with all his might. In good conscience he did the greatest possible wickedness... We may have conscience, religion, learning and the approval of this world's scholars, and still be at open war with the Lord.

The heavenly light that streamed on the apostle was above all nature's light. Just as surely, the grace God showed that day eclipsed everything that was of man in his heart and past history. It all disappeared before the overwhelming strength of the goodness of God in Christ... The work was done. I do not say he already had all the peace and blessedness he would later enjoy. But at that moment the spiritual light of Christ entered, and it dealt with his conscience in all its depths. At once everything was stirred up, down to the very roots of his moral being, and underneath the good seed — the seed of everlasting life — was sown.

And then from glory came these touching words, "I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting." Friend, He speaks to you tonight from glory... Perhaps you would not like to take that ground. Ah! you say, you did not laugh at that young fellow who said he was a Christian, did you? Oh yes, you say, I poked a little fun at him. Why? Because he was a Christian; that was why... What harm has Jesus done you, my friend?

Oh, think of that; look at the two things that come together there — "fallen to the ground," "rise." It is the man who is down that God can take up; down on the earth, down in the dust, truly, that is the man God can take up… Do you know what gives these words immense interest? Not merely the conversion of Saul of Tarsus, but that they were the last words Jesus ever spoke from heaven to earth. Acts 1 gives His last words on earth; Acts 26 gives His last words from heaven to man on earth.

The one we have in this chapter is also given by Paul himself — when standing before Agrippa. In this there are fewer details concerning his conversion, but a very full and precise account of his mission. Ananias therefore does not appear in this, for Saul's mission was from the Lord Himself, even as he says, in writing to the Galatians, "Paul, an apostle — not from men nor through man, but through Jesus Christ and God the Father, who raised Him from the dead."

The word here translated "minister" is not the one often used in other passages, which means one who acts or waits in service. According to its use in the New Testament, it really means an appointed official servant… The Lord, who appeared to him, did give Paul an official place as His servant, because the mission He was about to send him on was personal to the apostle. No one else could carry it out.

We learn from this that he was to be a minister and a witness… the expression "witness" meaning that he was to display in himself what he ministered… I cannot imagine anything more wonderful than the testimony of a witness. Not all are called to be ministers, but I suggest that every believer is called to be a witness. And I am bold to say this: the most telling and weighty ministry today is the silent, quiet, but clear unfolding of this heavenly testimony in one's own person.

Here we find a sign from the very first that the things he had seen — this Christ in glory, and all that belonged to Him — were to be the subjects of his ministry. But not only those things. An ascended and glorified Lord would also make further revelations to this man in particular, appearing to him again and afresh to pass them on.

For this, another agent was raised up — a witness not only of resurrection life, but of ascension glory: the apostle of the Gentiles. He received no commission from Jesus on the earth, but from Jesus "taken up in glory." He was to witness above all to the glory to which Christ was exalted. The saints made alive by the Spirit were called to that same glory.

Moses had to build the tabernacle exactly to the pattern shown him on the mountain. In the same way, Paul was limited in his preaching to what he had seen and heard — to the things which he had received from the Lord… Everywhere, and at all times, he was to be faithful to his commission and its contents. He was never to let himself travel beyond it for one instant.

The word is not quite what our common Bibles give — "delivering you from the people and from the Gentiles." It is hard to see how "delivering" fits here. In this connection it was not so much a question of a rescue as of taking him out from the people and from the Gentiles. … It is also more than Peter speaks of in Acts 15, where God takes out from the Gentiles a people for His name. In the case of Saul of Tarsus the Lord speaks of taking him out from the Jew no less than the nations. It is therefore a separation to the new work of God from both Jew and Gentile.

Some have said that Paul was in fact taken out of Israel only, and not out of the nations. On that view the thought must be delivering, as in the common version. But if he were taken out from Israel, it was important to say that this was not to give him the mere position of a Gentile. You might think there are only these two places. But the Christian has another and heavenly place, and on earth is simply a pilgrim and a stranger.

The Lord's purpose was that he should be "taken out" from among the people, and the Gentiles. That is, he was to be separated from his own people, the Jews, and from the Gentiles too, so as to stand in a place distinct from both… We may perhaps say that these words were the first hint of the distinct place the church holds, called out from both Jew and Gentile. Paul was the first to be put in that place — the place into which all who believed the gospel he was commissioned to preach were brought.

"As you sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world." You can't send anyone into the world if he is in it already. I must be separated from it first, and then I can be sent into it. "I take you out from the people and from the Gentiles, to whom I now send you."

Separation from both best describes his position, and there is no need to stretch "to whom I send you" beyond the Gentiles. He was to be apostle of Gentiles, or of the uncircumcision, and as such he magnifies his office in Romans 11:13-14. The "I" is emphatic, and the adverb "now" is added only by inferior witnesses.

A better translation is, Taking you out from among the people and the Gentiles. The apostle had been a Jew. Now, for the purpose of his service, he was set apart from both Jews and Gentiles, taken outside of both, because he was about to be sent to both alike. His mission was from heaven, and in carrying it out he was to remember this, owning no distinction between people and people, or nation and nation. More than once Paul forgot the full force of these words; that is only too clear. His failure here led to his being taken to Rome as a prisoner instead of visiting that city as an apostle, though the Lord graciously overruled it for His own purposes. But we all know, in our smaller measure, how hard it is to remember that we have lost our nationality by being joined to Christ in His death.

The object of his mission is fully stated in verse 18. Notice first that he is distinctly sent. Every servant, whatever his service, must be both called and sent, and in this Paul is above all a pattern... But how was Paul to open blind eyes? His part was to proclaim the gospel of the glory of Christ. He was a witness of what he had seen, and he received power to carry on this blessed work. God's part was to make the light from His servant's message shine into the darkened souls of those who heard it. Man's part, for which he depended entirely on God, was to receive and accept the message. From this all blessing was to come — as the verse ends, "by faith in" Christ.

But how do we know that every man in his natural, unconverted state is blind? Because Paul's commission makes the very first thing the gospel does for him "to open his eyes." Paul was sent to the Jewish people and to the Gentiles — that is, to the whole human family — to open their eyes. This proves, by a divine demonstration, that all are blind by nature.

What do the words "to open their eyes" mean? Surely they involve discovering our own condition. A man whose eyes are opened comes to know himself, his condition and his ways. That is true repentance. It is a wonderful moment in a man's life when his eyes are opened.

The purpose of the message is "to open their eyes, so that they may turn from darkness to light." Light has come into the world. He who was its Light while He was in it has gone out of it again, rejected by it. Yet the light still streams from an open heaven, in principle as Paul saw it. So men only need to have their eyes opened to see it too. Here is their responsibility, and here too is their guilt: they love the darkness, as in our Lord's time, because their deeds are evil.

Not only is man — every man, Jew and Gentile — blind and in darkness. As if to crown it all, he is under the power of Satan. This gives a terrible idea of man's condition. He is the slave of the devil. He does not believe this. He imagines he is free. He thinks he is his own master. He supposes he can go where he pleases, do what he likes, think for himself, and speak and act as an independent being. But he is another's slave.

The power of Satan is broken, and the delivered one finds himself in the presence of God, at peace and glad. Like the man with demons in Mark 5, his chains are broken and gone. He is clothed and in his right mind, sitting at the feet of Jesus.

The first blessing named is the forgiveness of sins. Why first? Because the first need of an awakened soul is to feel God's forgiving love clearing away guilt... Notice too that souls are turned to God so that they may receive forgiveness of sins. This is pure grace. It shows that forgiveness is waiting for those who come with repentance toward God and faith toward the Lord Jesus Christ. In addition, there is "a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me" — an inheritance, meaning all the blessings every believer will share with Christ and with His redeemed.

There was now a new, deeper, fuller sanctification. Israel's was outward — a matter of the body and of ritual. This one is living and genuine, through believing on Christ. It is the lasting result of a completed setting apart to God, from the Christian's starting point.

This announcement of sovereign grace had an immediate and immense effect, both on Paul himself and on his mission... To brush aside such a vision and call would have been not only rebellion, but madness and self-destruction. And the apostle gave one proof that nothing but self-willed folly could dodge or escape: a life of unequalled suffering and labour in bearing witness to its truth — truth so important to every child of man. So he burned with zeal to tell everyone, near or far, that they should repent and turn to God, doing works worthy of repentance.

When God speaks, I am not to look round to see how my obedience to His voice will affect my neighbours, or to weigh what they will think of me. Saul of Tarsus lay face down when the voice of the risen and glorified Jesus reached his ear. He did not stop to ask what the chief priests and Pharisees would think of him if he obeyed. Certainly not. He says, "I did not immediately consult with anyone" (Galatians 1:16). "Therefore, O King Agrippa, I was not disobedient to the heavenly vision." This is the true spirit and principle of discipleship... Nothing is more dangerous than to hesitate when God's light shines on your path. If you do not act on the light when you get it, you will surely end up in thick darkness.

But on the road to Damascus everything changed, deeply and for ever. Jesus of Nazareth revealed Himself to him in the glory of God. In the once despised Jesus he found a new and commanding Object, and from that moment it ruled his life... He became obedient... What is more, the Christ who had revealed Himself to him completely displaced Paul in his own eyes.

This thought runs all through Scripture. It is very simple. I receive the light of God's testimony, I believe it, and then I judge myself and my ways, and live a new life. I hear a testimony about judgment. I bow to it. Or the testimony may be about the work of Christ. I bow to that too. And as I bow I see my need. I believe the love that seeks my blessing, and I judge myself.

The words, "I am Jesus," and the memory of that bright and heavenly vision, always ruled Paul's mind. As he said, he was not disobedient to the heavenly vision... Every servant is called by what amounts to an order from heaven, on the pattern of the call of Saul of Tarsus. The Lord does not appear now in the glory of heaven; He calls by His own voice to the heart. There are no such visible displays today, yet the power and the reality are the same and last for ever... Saul heard His voice from the glory, and it changed him from a bitter enemy into a devoted and loving servant.

It would have been not only rebellion but madness and ruin to brush aside such a vision and call. But the apostle gave his proof, and nothing but self-willed folly could dodge or escape it: a life of unequalled suffering and labour, bearing witness to the truth of that vision — truth that matters to every child of man.

And notice, these three truths were pressed by him everywhere, and on all classes. To those of Damascus first, where he first saw the light, and where in the Jewish synagogue he preached that "Jesus was the Son of God." Then at Jerusalem, not yet finally judged, but still holding at least a semblance of God's favour and privilege. Then in Judea. And last of all, to the Gentiles, who did not know God and were given over to sin. Everywhere and always the same appeal comes from his lips, for the simple reason that all owe the same response.

But some may ask, What is repentance? Let us turn to Scripture to find out. It is not a mere change of mind on certain points — that would confuse it with faith... It is not simply a conviction of having done wrong; for when the crowd were cut to the heart, Peter urged them to repentance (Acts 2:38). It is not sorrow for sin, "for godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret" (2 Cor. 7:10). But it is a change of mind, a judging of self, of one's ways and sins, shown by a changed life. It is God's gift (Acts 11:18; 2 Tim. 2:25)... It is fruitful; there are deeds in keeping with repentance (Matt. 3:8; Acts 26:20).

Other passages throw further light on turning and repentance. In Acts 3 we have "Repent therefore, and turn back." In Acts 26 we have "that they should repent and turn to God." Here I take it that "turn" is not simply a change of will. It means, as in the other case, "turning to God"... Here God's working is not gone into, since this speaks to the conscience. Men are called to judge their ways and turn to God.

Philosophy turns you to a thing, perhaps a good thing. It may make a drunkard turn to being sober, or an impure man turn to purity; but Christianity turns you, whatever you are, to God. Yes, to God, and to nothing short of God.

Repentance involves coming into the light, so that one sees and judges one's own sinfulness, and then confesses it before God. Now the more we see our own sin, the more we distrust ourselves; and the more we distrust ourselves, the more we learn to trust God. So turning to God follows this turning from ourselves. All this is an inward process of mind and heart, mostly hidden from view, but if it is real it soon produces actions and works to match. If there are no deeds in keeping with repentance, we may be sure that the repentance a man professes is not the real thing. Paul insisted on all three. They are God's appointed way for receiving the blessings of the gospel, and the gospel itself produces them where it is received in faith.

If a man professes repentance, we may rightly demand that the change show itself in his daily life before we fully accept what he claims. But this has nothing to do with preaching good works as a help towards our justification.

Paul, then, was taken clean out of everything, both Jew and Gentile, but sent to the Gentile especially. The bare sound of this was what horrified the Jews. They could not put the two together. How could a man with burning love for the Jew also be the leading, tireless witness of grace to the Gentiles? In their legal pride they could not forgive it. The most hostile feelings broke out against Paul, along with a mad envy and jealousy against the Gentiles.

It is astonishing that they should hate the grace of God so much — a grace that rises above all man's sin, Jewish or Gentile alike. It is the clearest proof that man is lost. Nothing softens the hatred of grace: not intelligence, not learning, not religion. All three came together in Saul of Tarsus, and some of the Jews of Jerusalem had them too, more or less. The same pride of nature and misuse of God's promises had led the nation to crucify the Messiah. Now it hardened them to reject and hate the gospel — above all because it went to the Gentile no less than the Jew.

In the wisdom of the Lord, a man not under the law obeyed it. That very act became the occasion for open law-breaking by those who seemed to uphold the law. The Jews from Asia stirred up the whole crowd and set the whole city in motion. The people ran together, seized Paul, dragged him out of the temple and tried to kill him. They made five separate charges against him, and all of them were untrue. So the enemies of the truth boasted in their law-keeping and righteous deeds — in appearance, not in heart. Their own acts proved them law-breakers, liars and murderers.

Before the Gentiles he is a missionary from God... But why was he, who had been delivered from the people, left exposed to their total lack of conscience? Their blind passions gave no room for testimony. Even so, as we have seen, it had to be this way. The Jews were to fill up the measure of their guilt in every way, and the blessed apostle was to follow in the steps of his Master.

So it was this special service — proclaiming the gospel of the grace of God to the Gentiles — that raised the malice of the prejudiced Jew. It was this that brought the apostle into prison. In the estimation of the Jew, a man who could talk of going to the Gentiles was not fit to live. Paul, however, did not see himself as a prisoner of men for any wrongdoing. He was a prisoner of Jesus Christ, because of his service of love in making the truth known to the Gentiles.

It would be incredible, if it were not the most certain fact, that a faith and life formed in this way are detestable in Jewish eyes... But none of these things turned the blessed apostle aside, or even moved him, except to grieve over them.

For this, he told Agrippa, the Jews seized him in the Temple and sought to kill him. Would he give up his line of ministry because of it? Agrippa shall hear: "But to this day I have had the help that comes from God, and so I stand here testifying both to small and great" (ESV).

When Samuel set up his memorial stone — the stone of help — he was like Paul before Agrippa. There Paul says with the boldest confidence, "To this day I have had the help that comes from God." He is our rock, our "stone of help," our EBENEZER!

Listen to his moving words before Agrippa: "To this day I have had the help that comes from God, and so I stand here testifying both to small and great." He writes in the same way to Timothy, his beloved son and fellow-worker. He reviews the past and speaks of the persecutions and afflictions he had endured. "But," he adds, "Out of them all the Lord delivered me."

It sounds unbelievable, but it is the most certain fact: a faith and life formed like this are hateful in Jewish eyes. "Because of these things the Jews seized me in the temple and tried to kill me" (v. 21). But none of these things turned the blessed apostle aside or even moved him, except to sorrow over them.

Yet he credits God with protecting him and keeping him witnessing to both small and great (notice "small" comes first). He kept strictly to what the Old Testament — Moses and the prophets — had prophesied.

The Messiah suffers, dies, rises, and so sheds light on people everywhere. This is the surest force of the law and the prophets. This alone gives meaning to the sacrifices; this explains the cleansing of the defiled. No doubt there is the kingdom to come, and the judgment of the world as well as of the dead. But the basis of all the rest lay in the dead and risen Messiah. He is the object of faith for salvation to every believer, Jew or Gentile.

He announced the suffering of Christ; His resurrection; and that as risen He should bring the light of God to all mankind — not only Jews, but Gentiles also. Isaiah 49 states this last point so clearly, just as Isaiah 53 predicts the death and resurrection of Christ.

In Paul's answer before Agrippa you will find many more things stated than those included in verses 22 and 23... But the Jews were his accusers, and King Agrippa knew the prophets and the Jewish Scriptures well. So the statements in the verses quoted show that he was saying nothing contrary to the testimony of God in the Scriptures — the Scriptures his Jewish accusers claimed to accept.

How clear, how strong, how distinct is the disciple's assurance when he is testifying... When we see the power of the Spirit in the apostle in such positions, surely we may take courage. The same Spirit who witnessed in him is ours. By His very nature He is above everything in the circumstances that can oppose him.

The prophets and Moses had already said what was now fulfilled in the Christ that Paul preached. If their testimony came from God, then He who had suffered and risen from the dead is their sure fulfilment, however much is still to come. Should the Christ suffer? Should He, by being the first to rise from death, proclaim light both to the people and to the Gentiles? Only one answer is possible: a clear yes. A Messiah who suffers, dies, rises, and so sheds light on all people — that is the plain force of the law and the prophets. This alone gives meaning to the sacrifices; this is what explains the cleansing of the unclean.

In the Acts he defends his public testimony in preaching the gospel and the kingdom of God, both of which rested on the basis of Christ's death and resurrection, and, as he said, of the righteousness of God now manifested, "witnessed by the law and the prophets" (Romans 3:21). But to the Ephesian and the Colossian saints the time was come to open out the mystery of Christ in His exaltation to the heavenlies... Hence, as the Jews arraigned for him in his public appeals to themselves or to others, the passage in Acts in no way clashes with what he avowedly taught only to full-grown saints.

The Jews were not wrong to look for a glorious kingdom of the Messiah, with Israel as its centre on earth. Their mistake lay elsewhere. The law and the prophets were clear that the Messiah must suffer and die as a sacrifice, rejected by men and even by Israel. Then, risen from the dead, He would bring in blessing of grace and mercy to faith before the glory appears in the open. It needs no argument to prove that the suffering and death cannot come after the glory.

If we mean the simple fact of coming back to life after death, He was not the first this happened to... But they came back to the natural life of Adam, and so had to sleep the sleep of death a second time. Now think of the life that frees those who hold it from weakness, dishonour, decay and death. It is a life received only after sin's penalty had been borne, God's glory shown and secured, Satan defeated and death fully overthrown. As to that life, and resurrection in the power of that life, how clear it is that Christ was indeed the first that rose from the dead.

There is no difficulty about Elijah, who did not rise from the dead. And we are not told that Moses did either, though we may not be able to say more than that both appeared in glory at the transfiguration. But Scripture cannot be broken: Christ is the first-fruits.

The usual English translation cannot stand. I take it to mean, "He first, through resurrection of the dead, should show light to the people and to the nations." That is, the teaching of resurrection was the starting point of this light for them.

This was the very thing that had stirred up the anger of the Jews. If this was the way into God's favour, it was as open to the Gentile as to the Jew... He announced the suffering of Christ, and His resurrection, and that as risen He would bring the light of God to all people — not only Jews but Gentiles too. Isaiah 49 states this last point plainly, just as Isaiah 53 foretells the death and resurrection of Christ.

How clear, how strong, how definite is the believer's assurance when giving testimony... When we see the power of the Spirit in the apostle in such a position, we may take courage. The same Spirit who testified in him is ours, and by His very nature He stands above everything in our circumstances that can oppose us.

To the pagan mind of the Roman, the idea of resurrection was simply unbelievable. Paul had expected this at the start of his speech. So the mention of Christ risen from the dead made Festus cry out loud. How often through the centuries has the Christian been called mad! Here the man of the world flings that taunt for the first time on record.

Festus at this point breaks in with the loud confident voice of one who has heard enough, and is prepared with his verdict. With Roman pride he takes it all to be a Jew's superstition, the dream of a man who has read far too much.

To Festus, all this was mere fanaticism… But to a Gentile who was not converted, and whose conscience the truth had not reached, such testimony was nothing but pure madness. Festus felt that these things were completely beyond his knowledge. He saw no crime in Paul, but he understood nothing about the matter. The formal politeness he showed at first now disappears, and so does the dignity of his position. The power of what Paul said was enough to reduce him to his natural state of soul.

The word agrammatos, "unlearned," comes from a negative and gramma, "a letter." It occurs nowhere else in the New Testament, but gramma occurs in John 7:15: "how does this man know 'letters'?" and in Acts 26:24: "much 'learning' makes you mad."

Festus knew nothing of God or His word. The claim that the Messiah had risen left him completely bewildered. He forgot how serious the occasion was, and what his own office required. He branded the apostle a madman, softening the term by blaming it on his much reading. Paul was calm, because he knew God was present and knew the truth that alone gives true freedom. In that splendid gathering he was the only man on higher moral ground. With real courtesy he answers the senseless charge, in words that carry the stamp of the truth he testified to, and of the sober mind in which he laid it all before others.

The governor could not follow God's dealings with Paul. He could only cry aloud, "You are beside yourself"; "much learning makes you mad."… But there the appeal to Festus ends. He stands before us as one more witness that world-wisdom, rank, earthly position and favoured circumstances are all powerless. They cannot grasp what is of God. They cannot tell the difference between His truth and mere human superstition. Only sovereign grace can do that.

We may trace similar opposition by the great adversary in our own Gospel age. We see it in the service of the Apostle Paul. Delivering his message in cultured Athens, he was mocked as a "babbler" (Acts 17:18). Again before Festus he was considered "mad" (Acts 26:24). Here was ridicule. In Thessalonica there was misrepresentation: people imagined he was turning "the world upside down" (Acts 17:6). Then the adversary's violent opposition showed in the sufferings Paul had to endure. If we in our day were more energetic and more faithful in our service for the Lord Jesus, we would doubtless know more of all three things.

To the Roman mind the idea of resurrection was simply unbelievable. Paul had expected that, as he showed at the start of his speech. So the mention of Christ risen from the dead made Festus cry out loud. How often through the centuries have people called Christians mad! This is the first recorded time a man of the world threw that taunt. Yet it was not vulgar abuse, for Festus was a polished Roman. He did at least put Paul's "madness" down to too much study and learning. But he still thought him mad!

Paul replies, "I am not out of my mind, most excellent Festus, but I am speaking true and rational words." Notice the full respect he gives. At the same time, he could not stay silent and let the ignorance of a blind pagan put such a stain on the truth.

Only one thing exempts us from the subjection here demanded, and that is when subjection to authorities would involve us in disobedience to God. Then we must be obedient to the highest Authority. As Peter said, "We ought to obey God rather than man" (Acts 5:29).

Festus knew nothing of God or His word. The claim that the Messiah had risen left him completely bewildered. He forgot how serious the occasion was, and how serious his own office was, and branded the apostle a madman. He softened the word, though, by blaming it on Paul's much reading. Paul stayed calm, aware of God's presence and of the truth which alone gives true freedom. In that splendid crowd he was the one man on higher moral ground. So with real courtesy he answered the senseless charge, in words stamped with the "truth" he testified to and the "sobriety" with which he laid it all before others.

The governor could not follow God's dealings with Paul. He could only cry aloud, "You are out of your mind"; "much learning is making you mad." Paul answered that rude interruption with charming Christian grace. But there the appeal to Festus ends. He stands before us as another witness that worldly wisdom, rank, earthly position and favoured circumstances are completely unable to grasp what is of God. They cannot tell the difference between His truth and mere human superstition. Only sovereign grace can do this.

"When His friends heard it, they went out to seize Him, for they said, 'He is out of His mind.'" It was mainly, I suppose, because of a complete devotion they could not appreciate... To His friends it was mere infatuation. They thought He must be out of His mind. This is especially so with one's own relatives, where the powerful grace of God calls a person out and separates him from all natural claims. It is always like this in the world. Even His own friends made this hurtful charge against the Lord Jesus Himself.

Paul's reply was moving in its dignified simplicity... To Festus it was all the fantasy of a drunken mind. The gods he revered had no power beyond the grave... Let us all aim so to declare the Gospel that our hearers may recognize that we are speaking the sober truth.

You will notice the full respect he shows. At the same time, he could not let the blind ignorance of a pagan smear the truth without protesting. He appeals to someone besides Festus — and one who was certainly an impartial witness as far as Christianity was concerned. The reported facts of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus were not unknown to Herod Agrippa. Everyone who took an interest in Israel talked about them.

Nothing could be simpler or more truthful than this account. It set out Paul's case, and the conduct of the Jews, in the clearest light. Festus cut him off, since to him it looked like nothing more than wild enthusiasm. Paul answered with perfect dignity and quick judgment. He appealed to what Agrippa already knew of the facts behind all this, for the thing had not been done in a corner.

Neither the Scriptures nor the facts of the life and death of Jesus could be hidden from a man so well known for his interest in Jewish affairs as King Agrippa. These things had been done in front of the whole people, in Jerusalem their chief city, and not in a corner. And the prophets were there to answer for themselves.

Of course, Paul was referring to the facts of the sacrifice of Christ and His resurrection, for the apostles declared these facts with care, though the Pharisees fought them hard over it. This was wisdom the rulers of this world knew nothing about, and yet they ought at least to have weighed it.

Everyone knew that no man alive took more interest in Jewish affairs, or knew them better, than the younger Herod Agrippa. But how little such knowledge of the facts is worth, unless the Holy Spirit brings the word of God home to a stirred conscience! Unless a soul bows to God, crushed by the sense of its own sin and ruin, yet still holding to the hope of mercy in Him! Even so, to a man who owned Scripture as God's word the apostle could speak with a freedom he could never use with someone who denied it and mocked it.

What he testified about had not been done in a corner, and in the same way the apostle had brought the precious truth out into the open, in front of many witnesses. The Lord had already pointed out that men do not put a lamp in a hiding place, or under a basket, or under a bed. The apostle was a tireless, whole-hearted witness for Christ, telling everyone what he had seen and heard.

To Festus, all this was mere fanaticism. But Paul answered with perfect dignity and good manners. His reply was the best proof that he was not out of his mind, but was speaking sober truth... Still dignified and respectful, Paul put Festus back in his place as governor and turned to Agrippa, who knew these things were true. In front of Agrippa he could speak openly. So he turned to him and appealed to his conscience: "King Agrippa, do you believe the prophets? I know that you believe."

The truth was set plainly before the king. The prophets and Moses had said what was now fulfilled in the Christ that Paul preached. If their testimony came from God, then He who suffered and rose from the dead is their sure fulfilment, however much is still to come. Did the Christ have to suffer? Was He to be the first to rise from the dead, and so proclaim light to the people and to the Gentiles? Only one answer is possible: a clear yes.

The prophets confirmed what Paul taught. Agrippa, as a Jew, claimed to believe them. If he did, how could he hold out against Christianity, and resist what the life and death of the Lord had proved they were pointing to? Appealed to so suddenly, and in public, and backed into a corner, as we would say, the king clearly felt himself in a difficult position.

Everyone knew that no man alive took more interest in Jewish affairs, or knew them better, than the younger Herod Agrippa. But how little such knowledge of the facts is worth, unless the Holy Spirit brings the word of God home to an awakened conscience! Unless a soul bows to God, overwhelmed by the sense of its own sin and ruin, yet still holding on to the hope of mercy in Him! Even so, the apostle could speak to a man who owned Scripture as divine far more freely than to a man who denied it and mocked it.

In king Agrippa there was at least an intellectual faith in the prophets. But with what result? "Almost you persuade me to be a Christian." The word "almost," or "in a small degree," shows that the work was not thorough. It was not so in Acts 2, when the apostle speaks to souls troubled in conscience: "Brothers, what shall we do?"... The heart was broken. There was repentance and self-judgment before God — the right state for receiving salvation by grace, through faith of the gospel.

Paul stands above all his circumstances, and so he is complete master of the occasion... But how high his nearness to God lifts him — the poor prisoner, the despised Jew — above both governors and kings! He treats them with courtesy and respect, as was his duty, and he could do so because his faith in a glorified Saviour set him morally above them. Humble and at peace, when the moment came he could show the greatness of what was in his soul.

In Agrippa there was, I believe, more curiosity than conscience, though he may also have wanted to use the moment to learn what this teaching was that had stirred people up so much — a wish to ask questions that was more than curiosity. Most people take his words to mean that he was close to being convinced that Christianity was true… But we may ask whether that is really the force of the Greek. It may rather be, "In a little you are going to make a Christian of me" — covering his discomfort at the appeal to his professed Judaism in front of Festus with a put-on, dismissive remark. And I believe that is the case. The notion of an "almost Christian" is quite a mistake, though a man's mind may be under influences that ought to lead him to it, and he still rejects it.

Though I do not agree with some modern attempts at this clause, I admit that the word "almost" does not really give the true force. "In a little degree you are persuading me." In what spirit was this said? It seems to be a feeling he was surprised into, and in that sense forced out of him. He could not deny the truth of what the apostle said. He would not disown his own prophets. The facts, and the prophecies that had spoken of them beforehand, had in truth shut him up in a corner.

Agrippa is confused by the apostle's question, since he was a Jew by profession, though nothing in heart! Paul's simple but powerful words had cornered him in front of such company, and he was ashamed. So he tries to turn the blow aside, and says as a joke, "Almost you persuade me to be a Christian."

Agrippa plainly had no answer to what Paul had shown from scripture and from the gospel facts. The conclusion he tried to parry was just as plainly unanswerable. Truth is not a matter of reasoning but of faith in the testimony of God. Yet it takes root only in a conscience that owns its sin and looks to God's grace despite it… The truth comes from God only to the child, to the broken-hearted, to the sinner who knows he is ruined. For He is calling souls to know Himself, not training theologians.

Here is a case that goes further than Felix's, for king Agrippa at least believed the prophets in his mind. But with what result? "Almost you persuade me to be a Christian." The word "almost" or "in a little degree" reveals that the work was not thorough. Not so in Acts 2, when the apostle speaks to conscience-troubled souls: "Brothers, what shall we do?"… The heart was broken. Repentance was there, self-judgment before God — the right state to receive salvation by grace, through faith in the gospel.

It was first used as a descriptive nickname at Antioch (Acts 11:26). It had come into general use later (see Acts 26:28), and now the Spirit of God formally accepts it. We may accept it therefore, and as Christians we glorify God even as Christ Himself did.

Almost! Ah, poor man — not altogether. Almost! Is that your position, my friend?… Have you believed on Jesus?… Or are you a miserable sinner who keeps putting it off, and who will yet work your way into hell with a determination worthy of a better cause? There are plenty of people who never get serious. The gospel may touch them at times, and even impress them, but they let the whole thing pass away again. What a lot of followers Agrippa has!

I admit that the word "almost" does not quite give the true force. "In a little degree you are persuading me." In what spirit was this said? It seems to be a feeling he was surprised into, and in that sense forced out of him. He could not deny the truth of what the apostle asserted. He would not disown his own prophets... Of course this does not mean that he really believed in the Lord Jesus. But the apostle's starting points did lead to one conclusion: Jewish prophecy pointed to Jesus Christ. So Agrippa had to admit that it had made an impression on his mind.

We may question whether this is the force of the Greek, as people usually suppose. It may mean instead, "In a little you are going to make a Christian of me." With that put-on, dismissive remark he covered his discomfort at the appeal to the Judaism he claimed, in front of Festus. I believe that is the case. The notion of an "almost christian" is quite a mistake, though a man's mind may be under influences that ought to lead him to it, and yet he rejects it.

With all his heart he could wish this for them. Not only in some measure, even if it were only a little, but in a great degree, they might be such as he was. It is not just that they might be Christians. Still less that they might be converted. It is "such as I am."

The apostle was pressed to say what he knew. He put into words what was going on in a heart that enjoyed its position in God. His soul was so happy that he could desire the same thing for others of which he had the consciousness for himself. Joy is always full of good-will; divine joy, of love... Despite his confinement, which had already lasted more than two years, his heart was completely happy. It was a happiness he could give a reason for.

Did not Paul know the dark cloud that hung over Agrippa and Bernice, not to speak of others? Grace rises above all evil, as it overcomes and forgives the worst enemies. There is not one bitter thought, not one word of condemnation. Grace wishes its best even for those who are bent on the pleasures of sin for a season.

This is the man who wishes for them all, by little pains and by great as the case might be, that they might not only be forgiven or saved. Good a wish as that is, he wanted far, far more for them: that they might become even as he was, filled with the conscious joy of being blessed with Christ and enjoying God's present cloudless favour. Indeed nothing less is normal Christianity. Yet he adds, "except these bonds": this he could not, did not, wish for one of them.

But how high his nearness to God lifts him above both governors and kings — the poor prisoner, the despised Jew! He treats them with deference and respect, as was his duty. Yet he could do so from a place of moral superiority to them, which he had by faith in a glorified Saviour.

Sadly, the king did not know the day of his opportunity. He rose, and Festus, Bernice and all who sat with him rose too. They filed out of court, turning their backs on the light. They did not know what a wonderful opportunity they had had, or the utter folly of refusing it.

He rose. Festus, Bernice and everyone sitting with him rose too and filed out of court. They turned their backs on the light. They did not know what a wonderful opportunity they had been given, or how foolish it was to refuse it.

The effect is immediate. The king rises, as if he did not want to face any more of the hearing, and the whole company breaks up.

The king introduced here was the son of Herod Agrippa I, whose terrible death is described in Acts 12... Bernice was his older sister and Drusilla his younger, and each of them was famous, or infamous, in that day for reasons far too serious. Felix and Drusilla had already heard a most solemn warning from the prisoner. Now Agrippa and Bernice, with Festus, were to hear an appeal that leaves no soul as it found it. Truth set before the conscience brings a responsibility with it, and eternity — not to mention the judgment seat of Christ — will make that responsibility plain.

In Agrippa there was, I believe, more curiosity than conscience... People usually take his words as if he was not far from being convinced that Christianity was true... But we may ask whether that is really the force of the Greek. It may rather mean, "In a little you are going to make a Christian of me." That would be a put-on, dismissive remark, covering his discomfort at being appealed to about his own Judaism in front of Festus. I believe that is the case. The idea of an "almost Christian" is quite a mistake, though a man's mind may be under influences that ought to lead him there, and he still rejects it.

The meeting breaks up. The king takes up his royal place again, polite and condescending, and the disciple takes up his place as a prisoner. But whatever the apostle's position was, we see in him a heart that is completely happy, filled with the Spirit and love of God.

Was there one heart that responded, one conscience pierced? We do not know. We only know that the court withdrew at once, yet admitted that the prisoner's case deserved neither death nor chains. Agrippa said it most clearly of all, and he was the best qualified to speak: Paul could have been set free if he had not appealed to Caesar. How little the king knew God's purpose or ways!

One most important reason is that God intended this to be the means by which Paul would bear witness before great men at Rome.

Did he envy the king's worldly success and advancement, and his ongoing enjoyment of the emperor's favour? Would he trade his own lot for Agrippa's? We know he would not... He enjoyed the love of God and the love of Christ, which the great people in front of him knew nothing about... The governor's time in power had a limit. Agrippa's reign, however long it lasted, could not last for ever. Bernice's charms were bound to fade. But Paul would in time be with Christ above.

Was there one heart that responded, one conscience pierced? We do not know — only that the court withdrew at once, yet admitted that the prisoner's case deserved neither death nor chains. Agrippa especially, and he was the best qualified to speak, declared that he might have been set free if he had not appealed to Caesar. How little the king knew of God's purpose or His ways!

Given the evidence, this is not saying too much. But think who pronounces the judgment: it is still a testimony to the truth that "they said to one another, This man is doing nothing to deserve death or imprisonment." Agrippa adds to Festus, "This man could have been set free if he had not appealed to Caesar." But who knows? Agrippa could safely say this. He was not governor of a people so able to make trouble for him as the men of Judea might prove to be for Festus.

The apostle's innocence was established. Lysias had reached that conclusion after hearing what the Jewish ruling council had to say against him. Felix admitted it too, without saying so. He ordered the centurion to keep Paul in custody until Lysias came. But he allowed him some freedom, and let his friends visit him and care for him. And now Festus, Agrippa, and the governor's council all agreed in declaring him innocent. Every man with legal authority over him was convinced that the charges the Jews kept pressing had no ground.

Two things come out clearly. First, Paul was innocent, since Agrippa fully understood the truth of his case. Second, his appeal to Caesar was the only thing preventing his release. It was God's will that he should go to Rome, but if he had not used his worldly rights to regain his freedom, he might have gone there free. Yet God's hand was in all of it… What is more, the letters to the Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians and Philemon are the precious fruit of his imprisonment at Rome.

Another question comes up here, and it is hard to answer. Was this appeal according to the mind of God? … How can we call it a lack of faith, or a lack of wisdom? Paul surpassed any of us in both. He stood in the situation as we do not, and knew far more of everything involved.

Agrippa gave Festus no help in suggesting a charge to lay before Caesar. But why could the case not have been dismissed there and then, without troubling Caesar with it? Perhaps the pride of Festus was involved. But one most important reason is that God intended this to be the means by which Paul would bear witness before great men at Rome.

His judges had fully established and acknowledged his innocence. Yet God's purposes must still be carried out. His appeal to Caesar must take him to Rome, so that he may bear testimony there too… Jesus offered Himself up in grace. He appealed to God only. He answered only to bear witness to the truth… Paul appeals to Caesar. He is a Roman — a human dignity given by man and useful before men. He uses it for himself, God thereby accomplishing His purposes.

Agrippa said that without the appeal Paul could have gone free. Looking only at the human side of things, Paul might have deeply regretted appealing to Caesar. Looking to God, all was clear… If circumstances are against us, that is no proof we are out of the way of God's will. And good circumstances do not always mean we are in the way of His will. We cannot safely read His will for us out of circumstances.

The Apostle's innocence was established. Lysias reached that conclusion after hearing what the Jewish council had to say against him (23:29). Felix, too, quietly admitted it... And now Festus, Agrippa, and the governor's council all agreed in declaring his innocence. Every man with legal power over him saw that the charges the Jews kept pressing had no ground.

This was the Lord's care of His beloved servant. He wanted his judges to prove and acknowledge his innocence, and the world to see it settled. After that, the king and his companions go back to their places in the world and its pleasures. Paul returns to his prison. But his heart was never happier or more filled with the spirit of his Master than at that moment.

He would have been glad to see Paul go free. He said he was sure it could have happened if Paul had not appealed to Caesar. He gives his opinion to Festus as a wise and reasonable man. But his conscience really dictated the words. He could risk saying them because Festus and all the rest agreed that Paul had done nothing deserving death or chains.

It was the will of God that he should go to Rome. But if he had not used his worldly rights to regain his liberty, he might have gone there free. Yet the hand of God was in all this. The man who gave the verdict had heard Paul's testimony through this appeal to Caesar.

If an appeal to Caesar were wrong in itself by Christian principle, then of course it could never be right — in any circumstances, or by anyone... But Paul elsewhere fully accepts the "powers that be" as those appointed by God to be His ministers for good to men. There seems no real difficulty in his using them for that. If we do not know his motive, in the case of a man like him it is simple justice to credit him with the highest.

Agrippa gave Festus no help in suggesting a charge to lay before Caesar. He told Festus instead that Paul might have gone free if he had not appealed to Caesar. It was not Festus who said this. So why did they not dismiss the case even then, without troubling Caesar with it? Perhaps the pride of Festus played a part. But one reason matters most: God intended this to be the way Paul would bear witness before great men at Rome.

The apostle, a prisoner in Rome, sent from there to the Jews the deepest message they ever received from God. From the same prison he sent the saints at Ephesus and Colossae the fullest words on the body and its Head. He sent the Philippians the fullest words on Christian experience, and he wrote a personal letter to Philemon. So fruitful was the stream that flowed through him in his captivity.

Looking at second causes, Paul might have deeply regretted his appeal to Caesar. Agrippa had just declared that without it he might have gone free. Looking to God, all was clear... Circumstances against us are no proof that we are out of the way of God's will. And favourable circumstances do not always mean we are in the way of His will. We cannot safely work out from circumstances what may or may not be His will for us.