Acts 9

Chapter 9. Paul, the PrisonerAs a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. (Ephesians 4:1)We have been looking at Paul, the missionary, in his devoted zeal and worldwide evangelism, and we have felt how all other lives and labors dwarfed in comparison with the splendid example of his character and achievements. Now we are to see him in a character much more difficult to sustain, and one where human character is much more likely to break down. Many a man who can stand the test of the most intense labor and even the severest suffering, wholly fails when laid aside from active service and compelled to sit in inactivity or languish in prison. The bird that can soar above the clouds and stand the longest and strongest flights, pines away when compelled to languish in a cage and beat its helpless wings against its prison bars. For the next two years of his life Paul enters upon this new experience as a captive and a prisoner; but the grace of God in his marvelous life is equal to the strain. Looking over the walls of his prison and the heads of his enemies, he sees only the hand of God in his trial, and he signs himself, not the prisoner of Caesar, not the prisoner of Festus, nor the victim of the Sanhedrin, but “prisoner of Christ Jesus” (Ephesians 3:1). He recognizes the divine will and goodness even in this painful solitude of his cell, in the visits of his friends, and in the very trial of his case before his judges as a new pulpit of service and a new place of testimony; and perhaps some of the most precious messages and fruitful ministries of his whole life came forth from the dark shadows of his captivity in Caesarea. In this he was not alone. There was another prisoner of the Lord whose lips they silenced and whose life they shut up in Bedford jail; but John Bunyan could write from his gloomy cell, “I was at home to prison, and I sat down and wrote because joy did make me write.” and so from that cell came forth the wondrous dream that has lighted up the whole pathway of the Pilgrims Progress for many a child of God through all the years that have come and gone. Another sweet spirit, Madame Guyon, of France, spent many a day within prison walls, and like a caged bird which sings the sweeter for its confinement, her heavenly song has echoed beyond her dungeon walls and lighted up the desolation of drooping hearts with heavenly consolation. True, indeed, it is that Stone walls cannot a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; His presence ev’n a cell can make A holy heritage. Let us take three looks at Paul’s prison.

Section I: a Providential Protection

Section I—a Providential ProtectionRoman Citizenship When Jerusalem turned against Paul, Rome opened her doors for his refuge. Back of the story of his life, we see the mighty hand of God and the executive sovereignty of the ascended Christ overruling both the history of nations and the smallest incidents of human life for the interests of His cause and His children. The same power that raised up Babylon to punish Jerusalem for its former sins, and then raised up Persia to protect the exiles of Babylon a little later, in turn gave the sovereignty of the world to the Greek race, in order that that perfect language might be spread among the nations as a vehicle in which the gospel was to be given to the world. When the mission of Greece was completed, Rome was raised up to take its place and consolidate the government of the nations under one powerful organization, which afforded the largest facilities for universal travel and the spread of the gospel rapidly through the known world. Rome was the providential preparation of God for laying the foundation of Christianity. Roman citizenship was a panoply in every part of the world, protecting its possessor from assault and injury and giving him the right of way in every land. This was Paul’s safeguard, and behind it he took refuge when his own countrymen sought his life. The fortress of Caesarea, therefore, became for the time being the shelter and home of the persecuted apostle, and the bulwark of Roman law and the right of his appeal to Caesar guarded him from any injustice either on the part of his Jewish enemies or the unprincipled Roman governors who were only too willing to please them by cowardly compromises. Jewish Hate Foiled But again we see the particular providence of God in discovering and revealing the wicked plot of the Jews to assassinate the apostle when they found themselves baffled in their legal prosecutions. We do not know who this nephew was that God raised up at the right moment to intercept their plotting and report the matter to Paul and the governor, but God knew all about him and had him there ready for the occasion, as He ever has His instruments ready. So, many a time has He interposed by some trifling providence to save the lives of His servants. So, once He caused a spider to weave its gossamer web over the entrance to a cave where a venerable Covenanter had taken refuge a few minutes before. The cruel soldiers, who would have pursued and searched the cave, when they saw the newly made spider’s web, concluded that no one could have entered, and passed on. So, once in answer to prayer He caused a Scotch mist to gather like a curtain over a valley where the Dragoons of Claverhouse were about to pounce upon a little company of Christians worshiping in their mountain conventicle, and lo! the pavilion of God was spread over them, rendering them invisible to their pursuers and enabling them in safety to escape. So once He sent a hen to lay her eggs in the loft where one of His servants was in hiding, and supplied him his daily food until he was able to escape to a place of security. So still His hand is guarding us in all dangers, and His covenant fulfilled to those who are true to Him. “I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go…. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you” (Genesis 28:15).

Section II: a Place of Persecution

Section II—a Place of PersecutionFor while he was protected from their power, he was not free from their persecution, and so in a few days his enemies pursued him from Jerusalem to Caesarea, where the governor had removed him to prevent the assassins from carrying out their secret plot. They lose little time about it. Five days after the scene in the Sanhedrin, in which he had declared that he was called in question for the hope of the resurrection, we find them at the Roman capital ready to press their charges against him with their attorney, Mr. Tertullus, all primed for the attack, and an eager mob of Jews, including even the high priest and the elders, on hand to echo his charges. The speech of Tertullus is a good sample of plausible and dishonest pleading. He begins by the usual flattering exordium, to which no doubt, the keen Roman was well accustomed and knew how to estimate its value. He told him how happy they were under his benevolent government, while Felix knew in his heart that a very slight pronunciation would transform “lawyer” into “liar.” He was well aware how odious both he and his government were to the Jewish authorities and people, and how gladly they would hurl them from power if they dared. Then Tertullus goes on with his case, and begins it, as weak cases generally begin, with a little cheap abuse, calling Paul a pestilent fellow; then he grows more serious and charges sedition, but ere long reaches the real point of the offense, which is that he is the leader of the sect of the Nazarenes. Then he launches out into a lot of lying, telling how they would have tried him according to their own law, had not the Roman governor violently taken him from their hands. Felix knew how false this was, and that instead of trying him, they were trying to kill him, and that the Roman captain had simply rescued him from murder at the hands of the mob and afterwards defeated their plot to assassinate him by a band of cowardly cutthroats that had entered into a conspiracy with the very high priest himself that they should neither eat nor drink until they had slain Paul. Paul’s Defense Paul’s turn now comes, and his defense is in dignified contrast with the enemies’. There is not one word of weak adulation or praise for the governor, but a manly, courteous acknowledgment of his confidence in answering before him, simply because through his long residence as a governor he was enabled to have thorough knowledge of the whole matter. Then comes his plea, in which he denies the charges and defies the accusers to prove them. He shows that there has not been time for any seditious plot, for it is only 12 days since he arrived in Jerusalem and six of these have been spent under the guard of Roman soldiers. During the immediately preceding days he challenges any of his enemies to prove that at any time he was found disputing or causing dissension or tumult of any kind either in the temple or in the city. He acknowledges having been found in the temple, purified in the usual way, but without any disorder or unbecoming act on his part, the only tumult having been caused by certain Jews of Asia who were noticeably absent, and who ought to have been here now if they had any accusation to bring against him. He declared that he has simply been worshiping God according to the law and the prophets which they also accept, and that the one issue raised when he stood before their Council was the resurrection of the dead, which the Pharisees themselves believed. At the end of his defense Felix postponed his decision, but evidently showed his leaning toward Paul by ordering the centurion to give him liberty to see his friends at any time, and keep him in prison with the most moderate measure of restraint possible. A little later Felix intimated that he would look more fully into the matter, and the narrator hints that his secret motive was that he hoped to utilize this opportunity in some way to gain some personal advantage out of it for himself. So far as the prosecution was concerned, it had failed, and the next move of his enemies was, under some pretext of law, to have him sent back to Jerusalem for trial before the Council, in order chat on the way he might be attacked and assassinated. This Paul defeated by refusing to go back to Jerusalem for retrial, and appealing directly to Caesar, which was the only way apparent by which he could have been saved from a violent death.

Section III: a Pulpit and Place of Holy Ministry

Section III—a Pulpit and Place of Holy MinistryWe now come to the deeper purpose of Paul’s imprisonment. When the Lord Jesus forewarned His disciples that they should be brought before kings and governors, He had added, “This will result in your being witnesses to them” (Luke 21:13). That is, He meant that their public trials should be an occasion for witnessing for Christ. And so we find the apostle and his brethren always looking beyond the mere temporary occasion of their trial, to the greater object of bearing testimony for Jesus. The time had now come when the apostle was to have the privilege of speaking for his Master before the rulers of the world. He was to begin with the Roman governors and the Jewish king, and later was to stand before Caesar himself, as a messenger of Jesus Christ. The first of these opportunities comes in a few days. Felix sends for Paul to make a statement concerning the faith in Christ in the presence of Drusilla, his Jewish wife, whose relations to her husband, by the way, were not altogether lawful and right. Paul rises to the occasion. Paul and Felix A little while ago we saw Paul standing before Felix. We are now to see Felix before Paul. The tables are turned and the Roman governor is the trembling prisoner at the bar—the bar of conscience, the bar of truth, the bar of God’s judgment seat. A little hint is given to us of how Paul addressed himself on this occasion. “Paul discoursed on righteousness, self-control and the judgment to come” (Acts 24:25). He did not plead for himself, he did not denounce his enemies, he did not dogmatize about his opinions, he did not try to show his eloquence or learning; he went straight to the point. This was a case of conscience, a case of sin, a case where a soul was standing at the crossroads of life and the gates of decision. And so with inexorable logic, with deep solemnity, and, no doubt, with much tenderness, he reasoned about the very things which affected Felix and Drusilla most solemnly and immediately. He told them, no doubt, about the holiness of God, the necessity of righteousness, the awful penalty of sin, the wickedness of sensuality, immorality and intemperance, and the certainty and awfulness of the judgment to come. We have some examples in his epistles of such reasonings. We remember how he told the Romans that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23), and that “every mouth may be silenced and the whole world held accountable to God” (Romans 3:19), and how “the wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of men” (Romans 1:18). We remember how he told the Galatians that “God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows” (Galatians 6:7). Doubtless, in similar terms he pressed the charges home upon the guilty consciences of his hearers. Perhaps, the guilty woman flushed indignant under his keen home-thrusts, then hardened herself against his appeals, while her less skillful partner in sin was unable to conceal his deep and growing feeling, until his very frame gave evidence of the awful strain upon his soul, his knees smote together, his whole frame trembled with deep agitation, and arousing himself from an embarrassment which was becoming intolerable, curtly cut short the address and dismissed the preacher by the memorable words, “That’s enough for now! You may leave. When I find it convenient, I will send for you” (Acts 24:25). A Crisis No wonder that this passage has become historical and this scene typical of many a decisive moment in other human lives. The sequel in the case of Felix is very sad. Luke tells us that he sent for Paul more than once afterwards, and for two whole years kept him in prison until his own term of office closed, when he left him bound as a heritage for his successor. But Luke does not tell us that he ever trembled again or came near that decisive place where once for a moment he had stood at the gates of life. On the contrary, Luke tells us how an ignoble, mercenary spirit took possession of his hardened heart, and he held his prisoner for the base hope of getting some bribe from him or his friends for his release. Failing in this, at last, with shameful cruelty, Felix left Paul bound as a criminal after he himself had given him liberty, and thus witnessed to his innocence. That heart, for a moment touched and softened, grew only harder and more wicked when it turned from the light, until we have before us the spectacle of a soul going steadily down into ever deeper degradation and sin, until, as it passes from our view, it is given over past feeling to its sin and doom. May it be that in that first moment of feeling Felix came within reach of eternal life; that that was his day of visitation, his brief day of grace, and when he missed it by procrastination, not only did it never come again, but it left him a hardened heart and more hopeless future than if it had never come at all? Would that soul remember some day in eternal darkness, how once the angel of mercy had visited him, once the gates of light were open to him, once Jesus Christ had stood with pleading, loving and open arms to forgive even him, and by one act of procrastination he had forever closed the door and sealed his own wretched fate? There are some tragedies that come suddenly, as when Herculaneum and Pompeii fell under the flames of Vesuvius, or some soul is stricken down in the blossom of its crime going quick to hell, as Dathan and Abiram of old (Numbers 16). But there are other tragedies more slow and yet more terrible. There is no lightning stroke of judgment; but little by little, moment by moment, the heart grows harder, the conscience more insensible, the life more depraved, the soul more incapable of feeling or repentance, like a man slowly sinking in the quicksand and dying before our eyes by inches and moments of horror. So Felix went back from the hour of opportunity, and so still men and women are missing their chance and losing their souls. I remember a pathetic story once told me by a brother minister with tears and bitter sorrow. “Last night,” he said, “one of my college friends came late to my study. We were boys together in Baltimore and close friends. One night we both knelt at the same altar, where I gave my heart to God and he refused to give his. We parted that night. Ever since my pathway has been up to God, his has been downward. Farther and farther we drifted apart, until I seldom met him, and always when I did, noticed that he was on the downward road. Last night he nearly broke my heart. He was a bloated drunkard. ‘John,’ he said, ‘it is probably the last time I shall ever ask you. It is nearly over. One of these nights, perhaps tonight, I will drop in my tracks, and they will hustle my old bones to the Potters’ Field. Don’t talk to me about Christ and heaven. I know all about it. It is all gone. I looked once in His face and turned away. It is not for me now. I haven’t heart enough to want it; I have not soul enough to seek it. I am dying, spiritually, as well as physically, and I am almost dead now. All I want is one drink more, one dime more, one dime more, one more chance to forget my misery. I will not trouble you again. Just a dime, and good-bye forever.’” A few months later my friend told me that the poor waif had gone. A few weeks after that night he had been picked up on the street—an accident, a fall, perhaps a collision with a passing car had given him the finishing stroke and his own prophecy was fulfilled. Ah, that is sadder than the sudden stroke of judgment. Beloved, if you would only realize that when you say “No” to Christ today, or even put Him off until tomorrow, it means for you a slowly hardening heart, a gradually lessening interest, the power to sin without compunction, to lie down and sleep without prayer or fear, and so on down until the last act of the tragedy and it is forever too late, and the awful lines once written by Dr. Alexander, of Princeton, are true: There is a time, we know not when, A place, we know not where, That marks the destiny of men, For glory or despair. To pass that limit is to die, To die as if by stealth; It may not dim the sparkling eye, Or pale the bloom of health. He thinks, he feels that all is well, And every fear is calmed; He wakes, he sleeps, he walks in hell, Not only doomed, but damned. How long may we go on in sin? How soon will God depart? While it is called today, repent, And harden not your heart. Paul and AgrippaOne more opportunity came to Paul at Caesarea, and one more lesson has come down to us from his message. It is a lesson that deserves to stand beside his message to Felix. It was before Agrippa this time, with Festus the new governor. Agrippa was one of the kings of Herod’s line, and his dominion lay east of the Jordan. As a distinguished visitor at Caesarea, he was invited with the court to hear the famous prisoner. The occasion was most distinguished, the audience illustrious, and the message of Paul was worthy of the circumstance. It was the longest testimony published from his lips. It began with the story of his early life, his loyalty to Judaism and the marvelous revelation of Jesus Christ on the way to Damascus that had made him a Christian. Then it was followed by the modest confession of his high calling to be a witness of Jesus, and his solemn declaration that he had been faithful to the heavenly vision and had continued to this day witnessing both to the Jews and to the Gentiles the message of his great commission, the substance of which was as Moses and the prophets foretold, “that the Christ would suffer and, as the first to rise from the dead, would proclaim light to his own people and to the Gentiles” (Acts 26:23). We can imagine the impassioned tones and the glowing fervor with which he must have poured out this eloquent appeal. So intense was the excitement that Festus, the cool Roman, could not stand it any longer, but called out, “You are out of your mind, Paul!… Your great learning is driving you insane” (Acts 26:24). To Festus, like many cultured people today, any religious excitement is a sign of lunacy. Even the old-fashioned Methodist “Amen” has become unfashionable in modern congregations. But Paul appeals from Festus to Agrippa, to whom all these great religious facts are not new. Seizing his opportunity Paul turns his testimony into a personal message, and asks his hearer, “King Agrippa, do you believe the prophets? I know you do” (Acts 26:27). It is this which elicits from the king his cool, and perhaps ironical, reply, “Do you think that in such a short time you can persuade me to be a Christian?” (Acts 26:28). Our version of this text probably does too much credit to Agrippa. It was probably meant as a somewhat scornful reminder that Paul considered him an easy subject. “Easily wouldst thou persuade me,” or “by a very little wouldst thou persuade me to be a Christian,” is the literal meaning of the original. Agrippa probably meant that he was not to be so easily persuaded to accept the new faith about which Paul was so enthusiastic; but as the passage has come to us and has spoken its message to millions of souls, it has a meaning well fitted to go along with the other lesson from the story of Felix. While that lesson warns us against the danger of procrastination, this one warns us equally against halfheartedness in our decision for Christ. A reservation is as fatal as a delay. “Now and fully all for Jesus, and all for Jesus now.” That is the gospel message, that is the warning lesson of the story of Paul at Caesarea. Surely we need go no further than to Paul’s own life to see the grandeur and the value of uttermost decision. Look at the compromising halfhearted men before him, and think of where and what they are today. Look at him bound, shackled and imprisoned at their bar once, but today higher than the stars, brighter than the sun. Oh, how gladly would all the Caesars exchange places with Paul now. And what was the reason for the difference? The one was out and out, all and always for Christ; the other self-seeking, halfhearted, compromising and of the earth, earthly, and “the world and its desires pass away, but the man who does the will of God lives forever” (1 John 2:17). Is there any soul reading this message and committing the mistake of Felix and Agrippa? Not far from the kingdom of God, just one step between, and yet that one step is sufficient to separate you forever from Christ and happiness and heaven. May the Holy Spirit help you to give up the last reserve and come to Him today and forevermore.