Acts 15:36–17:34

1. II.B. The Mission to the Gentiles, Part 2 (15:36–21:36)
   1. 1. Paul and Barnabas Split Up (15:36–41)
   2. 2. Paul’s Ministry in Macedonia (16:1–40)
      1. a. Timothy Accompanies Paul (16:1–5)
      2. b. The Macedonian Vision (16:6–10)
      3. c. The Conversion of Lydia (16:11–15)
      4. d. Paul and Silas in Prison (16:16–24)
      5. e. The Philippian Jailer Is Saved (16:25–34)
      6. f. Paul and Silas Released (16:35–40)
   3. 3. Ministry in Thessalonica (17:1–9)
   4. 4. Ministry in Berea (17:10–15)
   5. 5. Paul with the Philosophers (17:16–34)
      1. a. Athens (17:16–21)
      2. b. The Areopagus (17:22–34)

There is no exact pattern provided here for handling disputes among Christians, though in the long run it appears Barnabas was right to give Mark another chance. At the same time, this text does not require the giving of second chances to everyone in every situation. There are times when we have to say, with Paul, “enough is enough” according to our best judgment at the time. Unless we are knowingly sinning, we must use and trust our best judgment in making decisions. Sometimes that may mean disagreeing with those closest to us. But we must also be aware that we cannot see what the future will bring or the full impact our decisions might have.

Nevertheless, disputes like this are a rarity in the NT; unity is the overwhelming shared emphasis in the Epistles. No other single teaching on Christian living matches the frequency with which unity is addressed in the NT. Regardless of any dispute, we cannot let anything hinder the work of reaching the world with the gospel. Brothers and sisters may have to agree to part ways from time to time, but we must always agree that we will pursue the good of the kingdom of Christ regardless of the way we take.

16:1–5 Paul’s Ministry in Macedonia: Timothy Accompanies Paul. These verses depict Paul’s wisdom in distinguishing between things that can impinge upon the gospel, such as requiring law keeping for Gentiles, and other things that can remove obstacles to the gospel, such as circumcising Timothy. Some readers of Acts struggle with the apparent contradiction between the Jerusalem council’s decision not to require circumcision and Paul’s decision to have Timothy circumcised. The two scenarios are different. One is the circumcision of a believing Jew for evangelistic purposes; the other is the requirement of circumcision for a Gentile’s salvation. Paul is not requiring Timothy to obey the ceremonial law here; he is tearing down barriers between his fellow Jews and the gospel.

It may appear that Paul is picking and choosing from the Mosaic law, in contradiction to his later words that “every man who accepts circumcision . . . is obligated to keep the whole law” (Gal. 5:3). In fact, what Paul does is to display the ultimate freedom with which he views the law. A friend and mentor once said to me, “Paul’s view of the law is the most radical of all. Keep it if you want to, or not, but do not think for a minute that it saves you or distinguishes you from others.”¹ This, it seems to me, is what Paul teaches in Romans 14:3, 5, 17 and Colossians 2:16.

Luke tells us that Timothy is half-Jewish (Acts 16:1). His mother was a Jewish believer, making Timothy a Jew, but his father was a Gentile. Timothy’s mother is an excellent example of the influence of a believing parent (later in life, Paul will recall the heritage of belief in Timothy’s family; 2 Tim. 1:5). A believing parent does not guarantee salvation for children, but the benefit of being raised in a new covenant household, with Christ at the center, cannot be denied. It is safe to assume that it was the influence of his father that kept Timothy from being circumcised as a child.

Paul’s own relationship with Timothy is well documented in his letters. Timothy became a near-constant companion to Paul in his travels, and Paul speaks to him as a parent does to a child, even calling him “my true child in the faith” (1 Tim. 1:2; cf. 1:18). Some argue that Timothy was converted under Paul’s ministry, but such does not seem to be the case. We can at least assume, however, that Timothy’s grandmother and mother (2 Tim. 1:5) were converted during Paul’s first missionary journey, and so the apostle was the indirect means of Timothy’s faith. It is also the case that we may be reading more into the phrase “child in the faith” than is necessary. This need not refer specifically to Timothy’s moment of salvation but could encompass discipleship and growth in the faith. The emotional impact of Paul’s comments about Timothy is not lessened if he was not the direct means of Timothy’s faith.

Luke does not record Timothy’s view of his own circumcision, which perhaps reflects his trust in Paul’s wisdom and judgment. More likely, Timothy’s point of view is not included because it is not important for the narrative. Whatever the case, Timothy is circumcised, and the reason is crystal clear: unbelieving Jews know Timothy’s father was Greek (Acts 16:3). Although he can legally claim Jewish status, Timothy must be circumcised to avoid a shadow of doubt. Paul and Timothy are motivated by concern for the spread of the gospel. His circumcision clears away an obstacle to ministry to the Jews and guarantees that the missionaries can continue Paul’s pattern of going into synagogues when entering new towns. It is only because Timothy is a Jew that Paul circumcises him. Later, when Jews protest that Titus, a Gentile, is not circumcised, Paul will not consider their complaints (Gal. 2:3). With Titus, circumcision would be inconsistent and hypocritical. With Timothy, circumcision is purposeful and useful.

This is not the last time Paul will be willing to go along with old covenant regulations for the sake of removing unneeded offense (cf. comment on Acts 21:17–26 [at v. 24]) in a way that does not compromise the gospel. But Paul never advocates keeping the Mosaic law as covenant law. In fact, he will categorize the law as part of the “elementary principles of the world” (Gal. 4:3). Paul is willing, however, to “become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some” (1 Cor. 9:22). This is what the law becomes (not only this, of course) for Paul: another means that might be used in some contexts for the salvation of others. This is a radical new covenant view of the law.

Paul, Silas, and now Timothy continue to visit churches and to share the decision of the council, which Luke notes specifically has come from the apostles and elders (Acts 16:4). It is telling that Luke sees no need to justify Paul’s actions regarding Timothy’s circumcision while also announcing the council’s decision. As Paul and his colleagues visit the disciples throughout the region, Luke sounds a familiar note: strengthening of the churches goes hand in hand with more conversions. The making of disciples does not end with conversion but must continue into strengthening and training—what we call discipleship.

16:6–10 Paul’s Ministry in Macedonia: The Macedonian Vision. This section of Acts contains some of the most unusual parts of the narrative. The Spirit prevents ministry. Luke does not say how Paul, Silas, and Timothy know that the Spirit is keeping them from Bithynia (v. 7), nor why the Spirit chooses to do so. The commonsense conclusion is that God has other plans and is uninterested in providing us reasons for why it is not a good time to go to those places. We can be certain that it is a good time for Paul and his associates to go to Macedonia; the “Macedonian vision,” as it is often called, redirects the journey in that direction. Paul’s vision is similar to Peter’s after Herod placed him in jail (ch. 12). Luke does not describe whether the vision occurs while Paul is awake or asleep. What is important is the message of the vision, which is clear enough that the travelers conclude that they must travel to Macedonia (16:10). The stay in Troas is thus brief. This is not the last time Paul comes to Troas, nor the last time he does not stay long. In 2 Corinthians 2, Paul recounts how he went to preach at Troas but, when he found that Titus was not there, went instead to Macedonia looking for Titus even though there was an open door at Troas (2 Cor. 2:12–13).

Leaving Troas, the mission team travels to Philippi. Now that he has joined Paul and his colleagues (notice the switch in pronouns in Acts 16:10), Luke provides details orienting the reader to their route and providing a good sense of the time frame involved. The travelers reach Philippi, leading to one of the most eventful experiences in Paul’s life.

16:11–15 Paul’s Ministry in Macedonia: The Conversion of Lydia. The westward spread of the gospel begins at Philippi, a major city and Roman colony. The missionaries are in uncharted territory, but the narrative shows that unreached people are not an obstacle for God. The missionaries go to the riverside to find a place of prayer on the Sabbath, suggesting that there is no synagogue in Philippi, or at least not one Paul wishes to visit (v. 13). There they meet a businesswoman named Lydia, a “worshiper of God” (v. 14). She is likely a Gentile who, like Cornelius, follows the Jewish religion but is not a full convert. Lydia sells purple clothing, meaning she is undoubtedly well off—purple cloth was prized in the ancient world and very expensive and time consuming to produce. The process involved boiling loads of a particular kind of sea snail that itself was not purple but when boiled produced chemicals that could be made into purple dyes. Thus, though wealth is singled out in Scripture as a particularly significant obstacle for the gospel, Lydia demonstrates that the wealthy are certainly not out of God’s reach.

Paul’s brief encounter with Lydia is a powerful example of the ways and means of evangelism. The apostle speaks to Lydia and the other women, and God “opened her heart to pay attention” (v. 14)—God sovereignly controls salvation but uses human means for its accomplishment. Lydia’s conversion marks both the expansion of the gospel in the Roman Empire and also the establishment of a base of operations for the missionaries, who go to stay at her house. Hospitality (not to be confused with entertaining) is a major issue for the early Christians traveling from place to place.

When Luke reports how Lydia and “her household as well” are baptized (v. 15), some take this to include not only family and servants, but also infants (if present). But proponents and opponents of infant baptism both have to deal with Luke’s silence on the matter directly. He does not say that infants either were or were not present in the Acts households. He is, however, not silent about the fact that believers who receive the Spirit are baptized (9:17–18; 10:44–48; 19:1–10). We should remember that Luke does not always mention receiving the Spirit and baptism in every conversion story, but he never explicitly describes baptism for anyone without the Spirit.

16:16–24 Paul’s Ministry in Macedonia: Paul and Silas in Prison. In Acts, money and the gospel often come into conflict in various contexts, from Ananias and Sapphira (ch. 5) to Simon the magician (8:18) and Bar-Jesus (13:8), from the slave girl here in chapter 16 to Demetrius the silversmith at Ephesus (19:24). Money in general is not in conflict with the gospel but rather greed and false motives for profit. There is a certain irony in the narrative: the rich woman Lydia accepts the gospel and uses her status to help the apostles, and then these events follow. The offense of the gospel is severe enough for most people, but, when combined with financial loss, the offense doubles. In Philippi is a slave girl who tells fortunes, making money for her owners. For a price, people seek to hear about their prospects for marriage, wealth, success, or whatever else. This is not the first time that preachers of the gospel confront supernatural powers and gifts (cf. Simon the magician), and here Luke reveals that such power is due to the girl’s being possessed by a spirit (16:16, 18). Not only does she have an evil spirit controlling her; she is also a major annoyance, following the missionaries around for several days.

From hearing Paul, the slave girl identifies him and his colleagues as speaking for God and preaching salvation. It is likely that she speaks far more than she knows or realizes when she refers to “the Most High God” or “the way of salvation” (v. 17). There is more going on here, however, than merely a girl speaking; a spirit speaks through her. The parallels with the Gospels are unmistakable. When the Gerasene demoniac (see Luke 8:26–39; cf. Matt. 8:28–34; Mark 5:1–20) saw Jesus coming and said, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?” (Luke 8:28), it was the spirit within him, not the man, who knew Jesus’ true identity. So, while the girl in Philippi might not comprehend “Most High God” or “salvation” in the full biblical sense, there is no reason to doubt that the spirit within understands at least as much as the spirits understand Jesus in the Gospels. Evil spirits do not get everything right, but they at least understand when a rival, stronger power comes on the scene. Thus the girl and her owners, as well as the evil spirit, will experience the power of the gospel in different ways.

Eventually Paul has had enough and casts out the demon in the name of Jesus (Acts 16:18). Paul’s use of Jesus’ name is not a magic incantation (even if it was heard that way by the Philippians) but a declaration of Jesus’ power and victory over the forces of evil. The “Most High God” has an incarnate name: Jesus. Unlike with many of the exorcisms in the Gospels, Luke does not mention the girl again—but her owners are another matter.

The owners apprehend Paul and Silas only (v. 19), despite the presence of others with them (“we”; v. 16). That they seize Silas indicates that he is known as a leader and likely a spokesman alongside Paul. The slave girl’s owners know enough to identify Paul and Silas as Jews (v. 20), which reveals that even though the Jewish population in Philippi is apparently small, the city nevertheless has some knowledge of Judaism. It is also clear that Paul and Silas preach the apostolic gospel of Jesus of Nazareth: when the owners take Paul and Silas to the magistrate (the typical Roman official in a colony), they do not mention (or at least Luke does not) the incident with the slave girl but instead charge them with undercutting Roman customs by their teaching (v. 21).

Their teaching of customs “not lawful for us as Romans” cannot include simply monotheistic claims subverting the polytheistic practices of Rome. Jews, after all, were known monotheists in the Roman Empire.² Perhaps something in the message went against the emperor, but this is merely a hypothesis—we must not overplay the anti-imperial message of Luke. The early Christians were not insurgent, counter-imperial rebels reacting against the government. Such a view puts the cart before the horse. The gospel is not a reaction to Rome comparable to the response of underground groups to oppressive governments. Take away an oppressive government, and underground movements and rebellions vanish. The Christian faith is not dependent on Rome or any other government for its purpose or fuel.

On the other hand, Christianity is countercultural because it is based on an entirely different worldview. Sometimes that worldview is compatible with a secular government; often it is not. The gospel will eventually run contrary to every earthly government because no earthly government will ever share entirely the Christian worldview. The only rule that will ever do so will be the one in the new heaven and new earth, where Jesus will reign forever as king. No representation or democracy will ever secure a place for Christians on this earth, not when we are created ultimately for divine monarchy.

In Philippi, the charges seem to boil down to this—Paul and his associates are endangering the Roman way of life, which must be preserved at all costs. This accusation is enough to win over the crowds and the authorities; the magistrate has Paul and Silas brutally beaten with rods (vv. 22–23), specifically bundles of smaller rods symbolizing authority, and placed into stocks (v. 24)—a detail that further enhances the dramatic events to follow. Amid this fervor to preserve a Roman way of life, there does not seem to be any opportunity for Paul and Silas to speak in their own defense (at least Luke does not mention it). This treatment is illegal under Roman law, as the magistrate will find out soon enough.

16:25–34 Paul’s Ministry in Macedonia: The Philippian Jailer Is Saved. In prison, Paul and Silas sing hymns, with the other prisoners overhearing. Their response mirrors that of Peter and John, who rejoiced “that they were counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the name” (5:41). The scene becomes even more unusual when an earthquake hits—one strong enough to open all of the prison doors and unlock the prisoners’ shackles (16:26). This is clearly an act of God. The prisoners, against every natural human impulse, do not run through the open doors to escape Philippi. The jailer, of course, would never guess that the prisoners would stay in jail, so he decides to do what he knows the authorities will do to him as soon as they find out what has happened (v. 27). But before he can take his own life, Paul cries out and stops him (v. 28).

The jailer’s famous response is the dream of every evangelist: an unbeliever who asks how to be saved (v. 30). What does the jailer mean by asking, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” His understanding of what it means to be “saved” is perhaps influenced by what he has heard about Paul and Silas from others and what he himself heard of their singing and prayers. The jailer, like the possessed slave girl, does not have centuries of background before the fact, like the Jews, or after the fact, like us. There is no need to underestimate or overestimate what he means by “saved,” however, because Paul immediately fills whatever gaps may have been present in his understanding. Asking too many questions about private motivations and thoughts of narrative characters results in overemphasizing what is behind or under the text rather than what is in the text. If we are serious about authorial intent, our first concern is what the author means, and whatever he or his characters think or know is known to us only insofar as the author tells us. Luke shows us a man at the end of his emotional rope, having experienced an event from which life cannot go back to normal; he senses that these Jewish prisoners have the answer.

Paul and Silas’s response (v. 31) is a profound and elegant summary of the gospel. Paul begins with the blunt presentation of the gospel, and then he and Silas speak “the word of the Lord” to the jailer and his household (v. 32). If we learn one thing about missions and evangelism in Acts, it is that the only nonvariables are the message and God’s sovereign use of human means; the times, methods, contexts, and opportunities are endless.

The gospel has an immediate effect on the jailer. He cares for Paul and Silas’s wounds—which would have been significant—and receives baptism. This is the second household baptism in Philippi, and Luke is more specific in stating how “he and all his family” are baptized (v. 33). Some take this as further support for infant baptism, a conclusion based on theological presuppositions and an assumption that there are infants or toddlers in the house—or any children that have not yet reached a point where they could make a conscious profession of faith in Jesus. It is impossible to determine whether or not infants are present at this time in the jailer’s household, but it seems to me that the greatest textual obstacle in Acts to infant baptism is the frequent connection between the reception of the Spirit and baptism.

What surely began as a fairly typical day in the life of a Gentile jailer ends with faith and new life through Jesus of Nazareth and yet more progress of the gospel into the world. From one point of view, a man such as the Philippian jailer may seem out of reach, one unlikely to hear, much less receive, the gospel. Yet, as Acts makes clear, there is no one, regardless of financial, economic, or social status, outside the reach of the gospel. As Luke has already stated (13:48), those who come to faith are appointed by God to do so.

16:35–40 Paul’s Ministry in Macedonia: Paul and Silas Released. Luke does not record why the magistrates decide to release Paul and Silas. What is important is Paul’s response: the jailer brings the news, but Paul decides to take steps to ensure that all Philippi will know that it is not his goal to subvert the empire. He invokes his rights as a Roman citizen (v. 37), which he will twice do later in Jerusalem (22:25–29; 25:11). The only ones actually guilty of breaking the laws of the state are the people and authorities in Philippi. By law, a Roman citizen had a right to trial before being condemned. Here we see Paul acting according to his views concerning civil government (see Rom. 13:1–7). He respects governing officials but also calls them to perform their God-given responsibility of doing what is right for those under their rule, reserving punishment for only those who do wrong (Rom. 13:4). Paul will not hesitate to suffer at the hands of the state when it comes to his gospel witness, but otherwise he is a law-abiding citizen who exercises his own rights under the law.

Upon hearing of their mistake, the magistrates come personally—as demanded by Paul—to let the prisoners go. They offer apologies and ask them kindly to leave Philippi. Paul declines to take his rights a step further and see the magistrates punished for their injustice to him and Silas. He accepts the invitation to leave, and the companions set off, stopping along the way at Lydia’s to minister to the believers before pressing further into Macedonia. By his actions, Paul leaves the Christians in Philippi in a stable situation, having shown that the Christian mission is not to overthrow Roman customs and laws, at least not in the way they have been accused of doing.

In some circles it is common to associate the “Macedonian vision” and the call to missions. More than one Christian has waited on God to grant a similar go-ahead toward a ministry goal. But when Paul sees the vision of the man from Macedonia, he is already hard at work in ministry. He is not sitting at home, pining away for a supernatural vision or asking endless questions about what God wants him to do. The text does not promise visions or the kind of certainty Paul and his friends have about where to go next, but it should cause us to rethink notions of God directing us while we sit and wait for the next big thing. This text is not the end-all for knowing God’s will or for making ministry decisions, but a little less conversation and a little more action would not hurt the modern church. Further, we should realize that the vast majority of evangelistic and missionary endeavors in Acts occur apart from special dreams or visions. The word from Jesus to go to the nations is enough.

This text teaches us that our witness involves not merely an evangelistic encounter but a combination of living as an example as well as speaking. How we live shows what is in our hearts. The way we speak and how we cope with trials in everyday interactions with people leaves an impression on those around us. Of course, without verbal witness to the gospel all life-witness goes undefined. Unfortunately, we are rarely skilled at doing both. For many, merely the mention of so-called lifestyle witness sends up red flags. There are, of course, Christians who offer various excuses for their own lack of verbal witness, but as in so many other areas of the Christian life, the two aspects of witness are not choices but rather dual requirements. Verbal witness is primary, but if our ordinary speech, actions, and choices show no connection to our proclamation, then what good is our verbal witness? God can and does use imperfect people who make imperfect life choices to share his Word, but we must not lean on this fact as an excuse or justification for living out a less-than-Christian witness.

Paul’s political context is more or less similar to modern-day contexts, depending on where one lives. What is universally true is that there are no perfectly just governments, merely some that are more just than others. The key is understanding how to apply NT teaching on the relationship between Christians and their governments in different contexts. A Christian in one context cannot and should not always prescribe behavior for Christians in a different political context. The general rule of thumb is that Christians are to submit to their governments except when they cannot in clear conscience because of loyalty to Christ (Acts 4:19–20; 5:29). Christians must be careful not to claim persecution at the hands of the authorities when in fact it is their own lack of wisdom and judgment that has gotten them in trouble in the first place. Yet we must also be willing to take stands that include exercising whatever rights we have as citizens, even going beyond those rights for the sake of Christ and kingdom when called to do so.

There are many times when taking a stand or submitting is a matter of conscience. This does not mean that every time we claim to act on the basis of conscience we are doing what is right, but in many ethical (political) contexts there may be more than one way of acting or reacting as a Christian. Acts is not a guidebook for political action, but Luke does show us that the early Christians do not intend to subvert the government. They conform to it except when the gospel is at stake. The Christians in Acts do not show great concern for what their actions may mean in terms of the Roman Empire. Their concern is to take the gospel to every class of citizen in the empire and to those in every nation under or outside Rome’s influence. Politics has a place, but the gospel is eternal.

17:1–9 Ministry in Thessalonica. The reception of the missionaries by the Jews in Thessalonica rivals that of the Jews in Pisidian Antioch and Iconium. Thessalonica was the capital city of Macedonia, located less than 100 miles (160 km) from Philippi. In spite of the treatment Paul and his companions receive, we know that the gospel takes a firm hold in the city, based on Paul’s writings in 1 Thessalonians. This epistle also reveals that the majority of believers in Thessalonica were Gentiles (1 Thess. 1:9), though Luke does record that some Jews and many God-fearers believed (Acts 17:4).

As usual, the first stop is a synagogue. Paul and his companions attend for three weeks, during which time Paul opens the Scriptures (the OT), proclaiming Jesus as the Christ and declaring that Jesus’ suffering (specifically his death) was precisely according to Scripture (vv. 2–3). Unlike elsewhere, Luke does not record the specific Scriptures Paul expounds, but one could assume that texts quoted previously in Acts by the apostles, such as Isaiah 55:3 (cited in 13:34) and Psalm 16:10 (cited in Acts 2:27, 31; 13:35), would have been used. Paul’s scriptural proof, however, would have been not simply a matter of listing some verses but more likely a comprehensive theological reflection on the OT in general. Such a large-scale presentation would obviously include specific verses, but the biblical doctrine of the death and resurrection of Christ is supported by a broad spectrum of OT texts.

Paul’s scriptural arguments are enough to win over many of his hearers. Luke reports that “some of [the Jews] were persuaded,” along with God-fearers (“devout Greeks”) and some “leading women” (17:4). The women could be Jews or God-fearers, but the Greek text strongly favors understanding these women to be Gentile God-fearers. That they are “leading women” means they hold prominent positions in society, probably involved in commerce as was Lydia in Philippi (ch. 16). In his narration of the second missionary journey, Luke includes many references to women becoming believers (16:15, 40; 17:4, 12, 34; 18:2, 18, 26).³ Believing women are prominent in Luke’s narrative generally, just as women have a special role in his Gospel.⁴

The unbelieving Jews become “jealous” (17:5) and stir up a mob that wreaks havoc in an attempt to get to Paul and Silas. They are jealous over Paul and Silas’s winning people to Christ because such conversions threaten their tradition and history (ignoring the fact that their tradition and history have come to fulfillment in Jesus of Nazareth). This is a narrative version of Paul’s teaching in Romans 11 that the Jews in general are not lost forever but in God’s plan of salvation have reached a climactic point in their sin and rejection of God in their rejection of Jesus. Because of this, the gospel has gone out to the Gentiles. But “did [the Jews] stumble in order that they might fall? By no means! Rather, through their trespass salvation has come to the Gentiles, so as to make Israel jealous” (Rom. 11:11)—using a word (“jealous”) directly related to the one used in Acts 17:5. What Paul writes to the Romans is exactly what he himself experiences in his ministry to the Jews.

The Jason in Thessalonica (17:6–7, 9) is likely the same one noted by Paul in Romans 16:21. Failing to find the ringleaders, the Jews bring Jason and other believers to the city authorities. They likely know that the authorities will not concern themselves with issues related to the Jewish religion (as typically seen from Roman authorities in similar situations elsewhere). Instead they bring a charge that would get the attention of any Roman—the Christians are disobeying Caesar’s laws and claiming another king—Jesus (Acts 17:7). This is not the first time such a tactic has been used by the Jews. During Jesus’ ministry, the Pharisees sought to ensnare him over his views on allegiance to Caesar (Luke 20:20–25), and later they told Pilate that he forbade giving tribute to Caesar but claimed kingship for himself (Luke 23:2). There were many ways to guarantee trouble with the Romans, especially by denying Caesar’s kingship. Everyone in the empire had to swear allegiance to Caesar.

The early Christians worship Jesus as king and have no greater allegiance, but they are not bent on the political overthrow of the Roman Empire; they are certainly not “anti-imperial,” if that implies some underlying motive of toppling Rome from power. Paul and Silas do not proclaim Jesus as first an anti-imperial message. These are not insurgents or underground freedom fighters. On the other hand, the message that Jesus is King is subversive in the sense that while Christians are always called to submit to and respect secular authorities, they have no such responsibilities when obedience to the state means disobedience to Christ the King.

The authorities at Thessalonica are “disturbed” (Acts 17:8), but apparently not to the point of punishing Jason and the others beyond charging a fine (v. 9). Luke does not record that Paul and Silas are ordered to leave; either this is implied or else it is the case that the believers recognize that the travelers ought to leave for safety’s sake. Thessalonica proves to be a rough place to visit, but the impact of the gospel is clear from 1 Thessalonians, one of Paul’s first letters. He recalls how the gospel took hold and the report of the Thessalonians’ faith spread throughout the early Christian communities (1 Thess. 1:8). Gentile conversions followed in the wake of the visit as well, as Paul recounts that they “turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God” (1 Thess. 1:9).

17:10–15 Ministry in Berea. Various Christian groups are fond of referring to themselves as “Bereans.” The word has become synonymous with a priority and concern for Bible study, originating from this section of Acts. The missionaries come to Berea and, as is their custom, attend a synagogue. Luke calls the Jews in Berea “noble” (Gk. eugenēs), a word that often refers to social status but can be used more broadly as a characterization of one’s demeanor. These Jews are more upright and honorable than the troublemakers at Thessalonica. They gladly hear Paul and Silas and test their message against Scripture. As a result of studying the Scripture, many determine that the gospel message is right, and so they believe. The implication, given the Spirit’s constant role in conversion since chapter 2, is that the Spirit has opened the eyes and hearts of the Bereans to understand Paul and Silas and the biblical foundation for their preaching. Scripture is the divine means of the Spirit’s work—as well as being the divine revelation of God in Christ.

Luke mentions once more that the many believers include “women of high standing as well as men” (17:12; cf. v. 4). Again, the gospel takes root not only among the lowly and outcasts of society but also among those who have fewer perceived needs in this life. Such converts must be considered when reading Jesus’ statement, “Only with difficulty will a rich person enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God” (Matt. 19:23–24). The difficulty for the rich is in seeing past their money and possessions to their need of God. This is difficult, even impossible, on their own, but not too difficult—and certainly not impossible—for the divine word of the gospel.

The peace at Berea does not last long. Jews from Thessalonica hear of what is happening and travel to Berea, intent on putting a stop to the missionaries (Acts 17:13)—increasingly, sustained and calculated resistance to the gospel appears in Luke’s narrative, for as the gospel spreads, so does opposition and persecution. At this point, the missionaries split up: Silas and Timothy stay in Berea, but Paul is put on a boat headed to the intellectual and cultural center of the Greco-Roman world—Athens. Once there he sends word to Silas and Timothy to join him immediately (v. 15). As Paul later records in 1 Thessalonians 3, he is confident of his prospects in Athens (1 Thess. 3:1). Once Silas and Timothy join him, he quickly sends Timothy to Macedonia to check on the fledgling churches (1 Thess. 3:1–2), again indicating the apostles’ emphasis on discipleship and training.

The Bereans’ understanding of the sufficiency of Scripture is every bit as important today as it was then. Although we are historically far removed from the apostles, we have their divinely inspired apostolic message in the Bible, which is no less powerful or authentic than the apostle Paul himself standing before us. In comparison to the Bereans, or to anyone else in the first century, how much better off are we, who have the entire canon of Scripture? The key is to trust the sufficiency and authority of the Bible, grounded in the power of the Spirit. The Bible is the Word of God, and we should be like the Bereans and like Luther, who declared, “Unless I am convinced from Scripture, I cannot recant my teachings.” We cannot afford to lose the Berean—and Reformational—principle that the Bible can be read and understood by anyone who reads or hears it. This is not to say that there are no difficulties in Scripture, or that every text is equally easy to understand, but the message of God’s salvation in Christ is crystal clear for anyone who reads it with the eyes of faith. The world changes, but there is no historical, cultural, political, or social gap large enough to nullify the sufficiency of the Bible.

17:16–21 Paul with the Philosophers: Athens. As Paul walks through this cultural capital of the Greco-Roman world, he is disturbed by the overwhelming idolatry all around him: “his spirit was provoked” (v. 16), referring not to the Holy Spirit but to Paul’s conscience. He experiences something like a gut reaction, a physical sensation stemming from seeing or hearing something deeply upsetting. Athens is full of some of the best art and architecture in the known world, and a vast part of it consists of depictions (mainly statues and reliefs) of the gods and temples dedicated to them. It is not the multiple idols in and of themselves (“an idol has no real existence”; 1 Cor. 8:4) but the pervasive hold that idolatry has over the people that upsets Paul.

As usual, it does not take long for Paul to get to work. His skill at reaching people of various backgrounds is on full display. He is equally at home in the synagogues of Jews and God-fearers (“devout persons”) and in the marketplace with Gentiles (Acts 17:17). Luke mentions specifically the Epicureans and the Stoics, two of the leading philosophical schools of the day. In the Greco-Roman world, people did not go to a university to study; students, for a price, would attach themselves to well-known philosophers. There were also general adherents and followers of particular philosophical traditions, as well as a great deal of mixing and matching of various points of view. Syncretism, the blending of different philosophies, religions, and worldviews, was the order of the day—as it is in our own times as well.

Epicureans sought what we would call the “good life,” searching out how to live peacefully and to be content and satisfied in the world. For them the gods were, at best, remote. Stoics, on the other hand, believed basically in what we might call fate and that the best way to live was for each individual to take responsibility for self-discipline and to avoid extremes in all directions. In the face of an impersonal force moving the universe along, only strict ethical codes and virtuous living could bring order to life. Neither group believed that the gods were involved in the day-to-day world.

Despite the uniqueness of Epicurean and Stoic philosophies, Paul presents the same message about Jesus of Nazareth that he has preached throughout his ministry. The Epicureans and the Stoics are closer to agnosticism than to anything else.⁵ This is in fact true of many, if not most, Greco-Roman philosophical schools. Greek mythology is already centuries old, and the Roman versions (often the same as the Greeks’ gods and myths but with different names) are well established by the time Paul comes to Athens. Yet it is clear that honoring the gods and the traditions is still very much a part of life in Athens; even if Paul’s audience are not fervent adherents of those myths, they are still “very religious” (v. 22).

Whatever else they believe, some of them can agree on one thing: they are not impressed with Paul. They call him a “babbler” (Gk. spermologos; v. 18), literally someone who, sort of like a chicken pecking around on the ground, hunts and pecks at various ideas he does not even understand.⁶ In their eyes Paul is a novice, an amateur out of his league. Still, others work out that he is a preacher of some foreign religion. All of this is because Paul includes the resurrection in his proclamation of the gospel. Telling unbelievers about the resurrection does not receive any better response in Paul’s day than it does today, a fact that should encourage us not to hold back when it comes to that seminal truth of the gospel: no bodily resurrection, no gospel.

Paul’s ideas are interesting enough, however, for the people to bring him to the Areopagus (v. 19), or “hill of Ares/Mars.” This is the religious and civil center of Athens. Paul’s interaction there, though not exactly a trial, is more than merely a free exchange of ideas. Wright points out that Socrates was once put on trial for charges similar to the accusation lodged against Paul: he is a “preacher of foreign divinities” (v. 18).⁷ However, the fact that “all the Athenians and the foreigners who lived there would spend their time in nothing except telling or hearing something new” (v. 21) indicates a degree of real interest, or at least curiosity, in what Paul has to say. Finally, when Paul finishes his speech by reemphasizing the resurrection, there is no riot, no imprisonment, no charges (vv. 31–32). By Luke’s account, he is free to go on his way. In short, the interaction on Mars Hill is less than a trial but more than a debate.

17:22–34 Paul with the Philosophers: The Areopagus. Paul’s speech at the Areopagus is remarkable on many levels, but we should not view it as an exercise merely in academic apologetics. Paul is not making a case for the faith generally, nor only offering “proofs” for Christian beliefs, such as the resurrection of Jesus, but is presenting the gospel to Gentiles so that they might believe. All good apologists recognize that faith in Jesus is the endgame of apologetics, but sometimes in the pursuit and study of the discipline the evangelistic goal is downplayed. This is decidedly not the case with Paul.

The Areopagus, situated near the acropolis, the Parthenon, and the agora, provides a dramatic backdrop for Paul to proclaim that God does not live in man-made temples. Paul’s address, almost certainly shortened and edited by Luke (it is hard to imagine that Paul spoke only a few minutes), is the most brilliant presentation of the message of Christ to Gentiles in the NT. Using Scripture as his fundamental, unapologetic foundation, Paul weaves in physical and cultural surroundings, religious and philosophical backgrounds, and his knowledge of Greek literature to build a seamless presentation of the one true and living God as both judge and redeemer of all people. It is astonishing in its profound simplicity.

Paul begins with a common touchstone, making a connection with his hearers through their familiar surroundings. They are “very religious” (v. 22), and Paul capitalizes on this point. Of all the statues and temples, he focuses on an altar inscribed, “To the unknown god” (v. 23). Paul is not simply filling in a gap in their religion, nor saying that all they must do is grasp that the God he preaches is exactly the unknown god mentioned on the altar. This is not a case of Paul’s saying, “You are really close to the truth, and now I will fill you in,” nor, “You are almost there; now I am going to bring you all the way.” Paul uses the altar as his inroad but then proceeds to dismantle their idolatry. The “unknown god” of the altar is not the Lord God, but the presence of the altar along with all the others points to their innate knowledge of the divine, a knowledge rooted in creation and God’s providential ordering of the world and history toward an ultimate goal.

Paul asserts that there is one God, who made everything that exists; he is the King, the “Lord of heaven and earth” (v. 24). Paul’s address is relentlessly monotheistic. This is the anchor of the address, and the following points flow from it. Paul’s monotheism would not have gone unnoticed by the Athenians.

This one God is self-sufficient, needing neither man-made temples nor sacrifices (vv. 24–25). This comment is similar to Stephen’s proclamation to his Jewish audience (7:48–50), applied here in a different context. Of all Paul’s statements in Acts, this may be the most radical, or perhaps it is better to say that Paul’s statement in Athens makes Stephen’s all the more radical. These Greek idols and their temples are no more the dwelling place of the God of the universe than is the postresurrection temple in Jerusalem. Worship in such temples is idolatry. Unlike the various gods of Greco-Roman mythology, the one true God needs nothing from, nor cooperation with, human beings—yet he is no impersonal cosmic force, either. He is personal, providentially ordering the history of the world, including the times and places of all nations (17:26). He needs neither temples nor sacrifices “since” he is the creator of the world and all people, beginning with a single man (vv. 25–26). Though Paul does not name Adam explicitly, he is setting the stage for the climax of the address, which will end with an assertion concerning another man (v. 31). There is essential unity among the human race; regardless of our background, race, or ethnicity, we all spring from a common ancestor.

Paul is not merely stating theological facts about God in order to prove his existence. He shows that the one God, as creator, Lord, and sustainer of the world, has done all of this for a particular purpose: “that they should seek God” (v. 27). What Paul says next may cause confusion about what he expects mankind, apart from special revelation, to be able to do to find the one true God. But the verbs translated “feel their way” (Gk. psēlaphēseian) and “find” (Gk. heuroien) are in the optative mood, indicating the possibility of looking, not the probability of succeeding. In other words, the pervasive idolatry in Athens is a sign of an attempt to find God—not specifically an inquisitive or investigative search for the revealed God of the Bible but a search for someone or something divine, outside themselves.

Such a search is rooted in creation—it is hardwired, so to speak, into human beings to find the God who made them. Always falling short, we land on idols of various kinds as a substitute. In Athens, the idols were visible in temples and artwork, but the same holds true of all that humans pursue and give themselves to in the absence of the one true God. Physical idols as well as the reckless pursuit of things such as money, power, sex, prestige, or fame are all attempts at feeling around for something greater, something more. Paul is not concerned with building a theory about what theologians call “natural theology” but is driving home the gospel through the common experience of the Athenians and, by extension, all people. The best key for interpreting this is Romans 1, where Paul writes that what can be known about God is plain to everyone, but, since in a fallen world these things cannot ultimately lead to God, we turn what we see in creation into idols for worship in lieu of the God of creation. But the sense of something greater, the innate sense of God experienced by people made in his image but ruined by sin (not exactly the way Paul unpacks it in Athens), is what drives idolatry.

Paul makes a further connection with the Athenians and their innate sense of the divine. Not only is it seen in their idols; it is found in their literature as well. Paul quotes two Greek poets (Acts 17:28), the first likely being Epimenides (c. 600 BC; the same poet he quotes in Titus 1:12): “In him we live and move and have our being”; and the second being Aratus (c. 300 BC): “For we are indeed his offspring.” The truth of the altar to the unknown god is seen in the words of the poets. They are correct, though they speak of more than they know. Aratus was a Stoic, and by “his offspring” he spoke not in the sense of human beings as the children of a living God but in the sense that all people (or at least all Stoics) are bound by the same cosmic force in the universe. Paul is, again, capitalizing on the common human experience of the sense of the divine, of something greater that exists beyond us and our control.

Readers may wonder whether it is right to quote these Greek poets as Scripture, but when we quote these lines we are not quoting the poets directly nor affirming anything about their inspiration. We do not quote them; we quote Paul, and in doing so we quote Scripture. We are not simply quoting a piece of poetry that happens to line up with the teaching of the Bible; we quote pieces of Greek poetry that through the apostle have been recontextualized (put into a new context that by necessity affects meaning) and included in Scripture. What we affirm by quoting them is not the meaning of the poets in their original context, much less any idea of divine inspiration in the poets themselves, but rather Paul’s meaning in using them in his address.

An analogy is Jude’s usage of nonbiblical Jewish traditions.⁸ Unlike the OT, the intertestamental writings were not held by first-century Jews to be inspired nor put on par with the OT. Yet Jude could nevertheless cite them as a given and known tradition, even a tradition that he and others believed to be true. The truth of a source, whether a statement or a historical event, is not at all a question of divine inspiration. Not everything true is divinely inspired. So Paul, like Jude, can cite nonbiblical sources without raising a question of the previous inspiration of his sources. What’s inspired is Paul’s use and Luke’s inclusion.

Paul makes a brilliant move from his quote of Aratus to his final condemnation of idolatry. Since everyone is God’s offspring, how could we think to create idols of gold, silver, and stone and call them gods (Acts 17:29)? Although he does not quote it, the tragic irony of Isaiah 44 echoes in Paul’s words. With this statement, Paul has deconstructed idolatry. The great lie of idolatry is that all idols are created by those who worship them. Just as with the man who takes a piece of wood, carves some of the wood into an idol, and uses the rest to make a fire to bake his bread before falling down on his knees to proclaim the idol as his god, so all are blind who worship anything but the true and living God.

Paul reaches the goal of his address in verses 30–31. The times of acting in ignorance are over. God has not yet judged idolatry, but he will, and now the Athenians know it. Paul calls them to repent, but he has not mentioned personal sin or reasons for condemnation, as he has done in earlier speeches in Acts. The only difference, however, is the basis for judgment. In earlier apostolic speeches the Jews were the primary audience, and in those contexts the specific sin was the rejection of Jesus as the promised Messiah, which amounts to rejection of God. Such is not the specific sin of the Gentiles in Athens. Paul has called them to account for their sin of idolatry, presenting the message of the one true God and the impossibility of idolatry. The call to repent is based on a basic implied choice, rooted in personal monotheism. They can either stay in their idolatry, against which Paul has made a devastating case, or turn to the one true God. In addition, the call to repent is based on what Paul says next: the day is coming in which this one God will judge the world (v. 31).

Readers may note that Paul says “by a man” and does not mention Jesus by name, but the whole Areopagus scene started “because he was preaching Jesus and the resurrection” (v. 18). There is no idea here of Paul as vague or unspecific about Jesus with his Gentile audience. Luke does not record the entire speech, and there is no reason to doubt that Paul has referenced “Jesus” a number of times, just as he has done elsewhere in Acts. Even if he did not, his hearers would have very poor memories if they had already forgotten the reason they brought Paul to the Areopagus in the first place. We do not share the context of the people in the narrative, only the literary context of the narrative of Acts, in which the identity of the “one man” is explicit—just as it must be in all of our evangelism.

Paul’s Gentile audience would not have heard in the word “righteousness” all of its OT background, but they would have understood that God will judge the world with justice—that is, he will be just in his judgment and the grounds for that judgment. The ground for the judgment will be the one man who rose from the dead. With this, Paul brings all the ideas from verse 22 onward to a final point. The resurrection of Jesus is the end goal of the one God’s work in creation. God created the human race through one man (v. 26) and will judge his creation in the one man he raised from the dead. There is both warning and hope in Paul’s words.

Paul’s arguments do not convince everyone, but some, including Dionysius “the Areopagite” (a member of the officials gathered there), Damaris, and others, believe (v. 34). Paul’s most brilliant piece of apologetic evangelism does not end with mass conversion, but in the larger narrative we know that the numbers, large or small, are determined by God’s choosing (13:48) and his providence in bringing his people to himself. What we are left with is a model of evangelism to apply in our own world, which is both similar and distinct from Paul’s. We are also left with an even better understanding of the gifts and abilities of the apostle to the Gentiles. As much irony as there was to the call of Saul the persecutor of the church as an apostle, it is clear that this is the man for the job. Paul’s knowledge of Greek literature is impressive and informative for our own engagement in evangelism.