The Judge Facing Judgment

We’re going to read from Acts chapter 24—part of Acts chapter 24. Page 791:

“Five days later the high priest Ananias went down to Caesarea with some of the elders and a lawyer named Tertullus, and they brought their charges against Paul before the governor. When Paul was called in, Tertullus presented his case before Felix: ‘We have enjoyed a long period of peace under you, and your foresight has brought about reforms in this nation. Everywhere and in every way, most excellent Felix, we acknowledge this with profound gratitude. But in order not to weary you further, I would request that you [would] be kind enough to hear us briefly.

“‘We have found this man to be a troublemaker, stirring up riots among the Jews all over the world. He is a ringleader of the Nazarene sect and even tried to desecrate the temple; so we seized him. By examining him yourself you will be able to learn the truth about all these charges we are bringing against him.’

“The Jews joined in the accusation, asserting that these things were true.

“When the governor motioned for him to speak, Paul replied…”

And there then follows Paul’s defense in response to the charges brought against him. The adjournment comes in verse 22, and we read from 22 to the end of the chapter:

“Then Felix, who was well acquainted with the Way, adjourned the proceedings. ‘When Lysias the commander comes,’ he said, ‘I will decide your case.’ He ordered the centurion to keep Paul under guard but to give him some freedom and permit his friends to take care of his needs.

“Several days later Felix came with his wife Drusilla, who was a Jewess. He sent for Paul and listened to him as he spoke about faith in Christ Jesus. As Paul discoursed on righteousness, self-control and the judgment to come, Felix was afraid and said, ‘That’s enough for now! You may leave. When I find it convenient, I will send for you.’ At the same time he was hoping that Paul would offer him a bribe, so he sent for him frequently and talked with him.

“When two years had passed, Felix was succeeded by Porcius Festus, but because Felix wanted to grant a favor to the Jews, he left Paul in prison.”

Amen.

Now, for those of us who were brought up on Perry Mason and who are intrigued by the process of the law—some of you are employed in it—the sound of the individual’s voice saying “All rise, this court is now in session” gets our juices going in anticipation of the drama that is about to unfold. I make no apology for the fact that I remain, after all these years, still completely fascinated by the process of law—particularly trial law. And when I was recently in Europe, I followed a man down the street, clutching his gown and his wig as he headed for one of the courts, and I was sorely tempted to follow him all the way in to see just exactly what was happening. The problem was, of course, I was in France, and it wouldn’t have really made a tremendous amount of sense to me, apart from the physical drama of it all. But some of you, like me, will be interested in these things. And if you are, chapter 24 here is a wonderful chapter, insofar as we have something of the high drama of Paul defending himself before the prosecution that is brought by this individual.

Now, you will recall from last time that Felix, upon receipt of the prisoner—namely, Paul—said that Paul should be kept in custody, and when his accusers arrived, then he would hear the case.[1] Now Luke tells us that five days later the accusers did arrive—the high priest, Ananias, with some of the elders—and they obviously thought that it was important on this occasion to be well represented, and so they had employed the services of a trained and professional lawyer. His name was Tertullus, and when the case was called, he began. You’ll notice the phrase, verse 2: “When Paul was called in…” It’s almost a technical phrase, in the same way as we have within the course of legal proceedings today; someone will say, “The case for X brought by the State of Virginia,” whatever it might be, and they call the case, and then the individual stands in the dock, and the case proceeds. And it begins here with the prosecution counsel standing to his feet and presenting the charges.

Now, it would seem that then, as now, the first order of business was to curry favor with the judge. There’s no advantage, clearly, in getting off on the wrong foot, but the way in which Tertullus goes about things here is actually quite nauseating. He employs a very technical beginning, what was known as a captatio benevolentiae, which may actually be used still today in legal terminology and probably pronounced far better than that. But nevertheless, how he began was standard procedure. And what he was doing was he was employing a device in order to capture any benevolent disposition that was represented in the judge who was hearing the case.

His opening remarks… And incidentally, what we have here is doubtless simply a summary of the case that was presented on both sides, in the same way as we have summaries of Paul’s speeches and sermons rather than the complete package. But his opening remarks are long on flattery and short on honesty. And he begins—and I tried to read it in this way—in fairly flowery language: “We[’ve] enjoyed a long period of peace under you, … your foresight has brought about reforms in [the] nation,” and so on. It has all the marks of Polonius to the queen in Hamlet, whom you may recall was obsequious and verbose in the way he addressed his issues. Shakespeare writes his character in that way, perhaps even picking up on this kind of procedural approach.

And you may recall Polonius’s great statement as he wants to tell the queen that her son is crazy—namely, the prince Hamlet. And he begins,

My liege, and madam, to expostulate
What majesty [is], what duty is,
Why day is day, night night, and time is time
Were nothing but to waste [both] night, day, and time.
[And] since brevity is the soul of wit
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
I will be brief.

And, of course, he proceeds to say,

     Your noble son is mad.
“Mad” call I it, for, to define true madness,
What is ’t but to be nothing else but mad?

And eventually the queen tires of it, and she intervenes, and she says, “More matter [and] less art.”[2] “More matter [and] less art.”

Now, what you have here is a lot of art and very little matter. If you’ve ever had somebody come to your home to try and sell you something, and they waste a tremendous amount of time before they even open the box or open the package or whatever else it is, you have good reason to believe that the long introduction is to wear you down, because when they finally produce the opportunity for purchase, it’s not that great after all. And that’s what actually happens here in the case that this individual is bringing. He’s guilty of the worst kind of flattery.

Now, the reason we know this is because the Bible is not existing in some kind of vacuum. Remember that when you read the pages of the Acts of the Apostles, life was going on around the events that are recorded for us in the Bible, and the Roman and Jewish historians of the day were recording the unfolding drama of history. And they would make reference to those who were at the forefront of the historical development of the culture. And so, when we read of Felix, we find that what Tertullus says about him is very flattering, but it isn’t true. He says, “You know, you have been the one who has presided over a long period of peace,” there in verse 2. But in actual fact, the historians tell us that Felix’s tenure was actually marked by constant unrest—that he was forced with frequency to call on the imperial power of Rome to quash, squash uprisings amongst the population. And the idea that he had this great foresight so as to be able to introduce these reforms for the nation just wasn’t true either. There’s no record of beneficial reforms. In fact, he was recalled to Rome because of his oppressive rule. He was recalled to Rome because he was presiding over a framework that was almost in a constant state of civil disorder.

Now, you see, when the prosecution counsel stands and addresses the judge in this way, he takes a great risk, doesn’t he? Because if the judge does not respond to that flattery, the judge is sitting there saying, “Get on with it, Tertullus,” in his mind at least. “You and I both know that so far, you haven’t said anything. So far, it’s all hot air. So far, you’re only blowing smoke.” If, however, the judge likes that kind of flattery, then the prosecution counsel has gained at least a foothold as he begins his case. But I think his pompous oratory here is simply because he knows that he doesn’t have much of a case at all, but as any good trial attorney knows, you have to stand up and make the best of it. And so he does.

And the charges are stated there in verse 5. Essentially three—we could say two, we might say four, but let’s just say three for now. Number one, “We have found this man to be a troublemaker.” You may have a version that describes him as “a pestilent fellow.”[3] “A pestilent fellow.” In other words, he’s just a royal pest. And pest comes from pestilent, and pestilent is part of pestilence, and pestilence is, you know, that dreadful viral activity that would run through a community, and if you came in contact with this pest, then you may share in his pestilence, because he is a pestilent fellow. And that’s what he’s saying: “He’s just… Everywhere he goes, he’s a catalyst for chaos, and he’s causing trouble, and he’s doing so all over the world,” verse 5. “Whoa, all over the world! Wow,” said the judge to himself. “That is quite an allegation.”

Second part of the charge is that “he is a ringleader of [a] Nazarene sect.” Now, who came from Nazareth? Jesus. Who was known as the Nazarene? Jesus. And the Jewish people, for a period in time, referred to those who became the followers of Jesus as Nazarenes. And the inference in the prosecution case is that this is a sect—that this individual who stands charged before the judge is not mainstream, is not part of the historic, orthodox Judaism that these people who were paying Tertullus’s way represented.

And thirdly, “We have to say, Felix, that he even attempted to desecrate the temple. And as a result of that, he was seized. We seized him.” Well, that is not exactly true, either. The fact is, “As a result of that, a few of my folks here nearly beat him to death. And if the Romans had not intervened, then we would have killed him.” But that’s not good for the prosecution case. That would be true, but it wouldn’t be helpful—not in trying to secure a verdict. “You’ve got to know when to hold ’em, … when to fold ’em, … when to walk away,” and “when to run.”[4] And that’s exactly what Tertullus is doing here.

Now, his close, you will notice, is not the strongest—verse 8. He is not able, then, to reach the conclusion and say, “And therefore, Felix, O great and mighty judge, I ask you to prosecute him to the full extent of the law; I ask you to deal with him accordingly.” No, he simply finishes by saying, verse 8, “By examining him yourself you will be able to learn the truth about all these charges we are bringing against him.” Not exactly what you would call pushing for a conviction, is it? And perhaps the Jews who were present, described there in verse 9, all nodded their heads vigorously and made sort of murmuring noises to one another, in order to bolster up the rather tawdry impact that has been made by this fellow that they’ve hired as the prosecution counsel.

And still the judge sits in the position of power and authority. His power and authority is such that without any melodrama, simply with a gesture or with a motion of his hand or with a raising of the eyebrow, he now calls for the defense to state their case. Now, I’ve tried to point out to you in passing—some of you aren’t remotely concerned about it, and it’s not certainly something of huge significance—but I just am intrigued by the times that Luke identifies the fact that with just little motions and gestures, the drama unfolds. The last time we noticed this was at the end of chapter 21, when Paul, remember, had been seized by the Romans. He was on the steps of the palace, or the fortress, of Antonio, and he said to the commander, he said, “Do you think I could get a chance to speak to the people?” And the commander, says, “Well, yeah, okay, if you want.”[5] And then Luke tells us, “[And he] motioned to the crowd.”[6] You remember on that occasion we said, “Well, I wonder what he did. You know, did he go, ‘Hey, wait a minute,’ or what did he do?” And again we have it here, this very same eyewitness kind of notion here: “When the governor motioned for him to speak…”

You see, the judge is a very powerful person. The judge reigns supreme in his or her courtroom. The judge is able to have people thrown out. Everyone stands when the judge arrives. Remember Laugh-In? Goldie Hawn, those of you who are a hundred years old? “Here come the judge! Here comes the judge.” And when the judge comes, everyone stands. When the judge leaves, everyone stands. When the judge says “Be quiet,” everyone is be quiet. And when the judge gestures, the defense counsel begins.

Now, Paul had had a legal training. He didn’t need anyone to represent him. Now he has the opportunity to represent himself, as he does elsewhere. His opening statement is respectful but not obsequious. It’s respectful, and it’s neutral. You will see it there in verse 10: “I know that for a number of years, you[’ve] been a judge over this nation; [and] so I gladly make my defense.” In other words, “I’m glad that I come before you as the judge, because you have experience, and it’s always good to come before an experienced judge.” That’s good. That’s a good start, I think you would agree.

Now, he says, “You also, judge, will be able,” verse 11, “to verify the fact that no more than twelve days ago, I was up in Jerusalem worshipping. So that’s not in question. Nobody’s here to argue whether I was there—you know, ‘Were you at the scene of the supposed crime?’ Let’s just be clear. It’s verifiable information: yes, I was at the scene of the apparent crime.” He says, “But as far as the charges are concerned, then I need to tell you this. Number one…” And what he really does is he works his way through the charges, not by saying “Charge number one, charge number two,” but you will notice the development of his argument tackles the things that have been suggested.

Number one, that he was a troublemaker—verse 12: “My accusers did not find me arguing with anyone at the temple, or stirring up a crowd in the synagogues or anywhere else in the city.” In other words, there is no basis for charge number one.

“Now, let me go to charge number two,” he says—verse 14. Now, what is charge number two? Charge number two is that he’s not mainstream, that he’s the ringleader of a sect—namely, the sect of the Nazarenes. Now, what he does here is very skillful. You will notice his opening gambit: “However, I admit…” Now, this is what the prosecution wants. The prosecution wants the accused to admit things. So the very phraseology “I admit” or “I confess” would be enough to get the journalists in the court dashing out into the street to say, “We have a headline for this evening’s newspaper. Put in the evening newspaper ‘Prisoner Admits’ or ‘Prisoner Confesses.’” “But,” says the editor back in the office, “confesses what?” “Don’t worry about that,” says the journalist. “We have the headline. We can fill in the details later. If you want to sell the newspaper, put ‘Prisoner Confesses.’ It makes for good press.”

Now, what is Paul doing here? Well, he is confessing to an offense that wasn’t a crime under Roman law, which allowed him to be transparent without risking any kind of legal liability. He says, “I’m prepared to admit to certain things.” Well, the judge and everyone else in the courtroom would say, “Well, this is the kind of thing we’ve been looking for. This is why we’re having this case.” He says, “Let me just tell you what I am prepared to confess to.”

Now, in this he is answering charge number two. So what does he say? Number one, “I worship the God of our fathers as a follower of the Way, which they call a sect.” Now, we can’t take time to unpack all of this, but notice—notice the phrase “the Way.” You’ll know the phrase “the Way,” because you will recall that when Paul went with letters from the high priest and the authorities on the road to Damascus, he was going to abuse, imprison, and kill followers of the Way.[7] And the phrase “the Way” came from the concept of Jesus being “the way … the truth and the life,”[8] and these individuals who were now followers of Jesus were following in the way of Jesus, and Paul’s previous life had been in total opposition to this way.

Now he says, “I’m prepared to confess today that I worship the God of our fathers as a follower of the Way.” Now, you understand what he’s doing. He’s saying, “What my accusers are suggesting is that for me to become a follower of the Way is to turn my back on the God of our fathers. But what I’m here to confess to today is that the big, unfolding picture of God finds its focal point in his Son, Jesus of Nazareth, who is none other than the Way himself. Therefore, the idea that I am not mainstream, that I’m involved in a sect, I deny that. I confess to my orthodoxy, worshipping the God of our fathers as a follower of the Way.”

Secondly—and this drives it home—“I believe what accords with the Law and the Prophets.” Now, again, you see, his accusers were saying, “We believe the Law and the Prophets, you believe in this Jesus business, and the two things are totally in opposition to one another.” Paul, perhaps in the wider context, perhaps tangentially to this, may have had occasion to reference Luke’s first volume, where Luke provides for us the picture of the two disconsolate disciples on the road to Emmaus. Jesus draws near to them. They say, “Apparently, all that the prophets had said and all that we’d hoped for in the Messiah, Jesus, has come to a grinding halt. Jesus of Nazareth has been nailed to a cross; therefore, salvation history is over.” And, of course, it’s Jesus who’s there with them; they don’t realize this. And he says, “Aren’t you very slow to believe all that the prophets have said?” And then, beginning with Moses and the Prophets, he taught them all the things in the Bible concerning himself.[9] In other words, Jesus said, “If you read the Old Testament properly, you will discover that the Old Testament just leads, like, you know, five roads leading into a roundabout,” that it all leads to the person of Jesus of Nazareth; that he is Prophet, Priest, and King; that all of what we have in the New Testament is built on the foundation of the unfolding story of the Old.

Thirdly, he says, “And I share the same hope in the resurrection.” Now, this is a masterful piece of work. Don’t you get it? “I have the same hope in God as these men, that there will be a resurrection.” Who are “these men”? Well, presumably the folks in verse 9: “The Jews joined in the accusation, asserting that these things were true.” And in the context, he would have turned and said, “And I just want you to know that I share the same hope in the resurrection as these men,” bringing them into the proceedings again and putting the cat among the pigeons. Why? Well, because the Pharisees believed in the resurrection, remember, from last time; the Sadducees didn’t. The Sadducees had to swallow something in order to join their compatriots in crime in this prosecution case, and they must have had to sit on their hands when they found themself included in this broad sweep. But they couldn’t jump up and say, “Oh no, we don’t believe in the resurrection!” It wasn’t time for that. They had to unite in their antagonism against Paul.

And he says in verse 16, “If you want to understand the practical import of this—that I worship the God of our fathers, that I believe what is in accord with the Law and the Prophets, that I share the same hope in the resurrection—the implication of this in my life on a practical, day-to-day basis,” he says, “is that I strive always to keep my conscience clear before God and man.” Wow! This is a real zinger. This is like somebody fired a bullet in a steel shelter. It’s ricocheting off the walls. Conscience? Tertullus, the flattering nonsense box. Conscience? The Jews and their trumped-up charges. Conscience? Felix and his messed-up life. And as Felix sits in the position of apparent authority and looks down on this man presenting his case, he probably could hear it reverberating in his mind: “a clear conscience, a clear conscience, a clear conscience.”

Do you have a clear conscience? If you were to stand before the bar of God’s judgment today, before lunch, have you come so to trust in the provision of the cross that with all that has been represented in your past and in your present, you know that on account of not something done by you, not something experienced in you, but on account of something done for you, that before the bar of God’s judgment you may appear with a clear conscience?

And he said, “As far as desecrating the temple is concerned, let me give you the facts.” And he gives the facts, beginning in verse 17: “I came to Jerusalem not to evangelize or cause trouble; I came to bring gifts.” Verse 18: “I was ceremonially clean when they found me in the temple courts.” Thirdly, “There wasn’t a crowd with me. I wasn’t involved in a disturbance.” In other words, “All of this stuff that has been said, judge, cannot be substantiated. However,” he says, “if you want to think in terms of crowds and disturbance, perhaps we ought to think of the Jews from the province of Asia.” Remember? Those were the boys that had showed up from Ephesus in the first instance, come up to Jerusalem for the feasts, stirred up the animosity against Paul, trumped up the charges, said that he was opposed to the people of God, opposed to the temple of God, opposed to the law of God.[10]

Now, this is also very skillful on Paul’s part, because it was a crime against Roman law for somebody to initiate a case in a court and not to appear themselves to substantiate the charges. And so he says, “There are some Asian Jews who should be here today in order to underscore the charges. Where are they?” And the judge would have said, “Yeah, exactly. Where are they? They’re opposed to the very processes of law that I represent.”

And when he mentions the issue of the resurrection once again, in verse 21… “Unless it was this one thing,” he says, “there’s really no charge at all—unless, of course, when I shouted out in their presence…” What did he shout in their presence? Well, we know, because we’ve been reading it, haven’t we? He shouted out in their presence, he said, “You know, I know you’re here telling me that I oppose the Law; that I oppose you, the people; that I’m not a good Jew; that I don’t observe the sacrifices; that I’m opposed to the temple and everything else.” He says, “But let me tell you what it is. It is on account of the resurrection that I stand before you today! It is because I say Jesus is alive and you say he isn’t alive! That’s why we have this falderal going on!” That’s what he said. And that’s what brought out their animosity again. So he says, “Let’s be honest.”

Now, how skillful is this? ’Cause he steers the issue back to where he wants it. Paul is more concerned that Felix becomes a Christian than that he gets released. Paul is more concerned that Felix is saved than he is freed. Paul already knows that his life is over. He’s heading for Rome. He’s in the final stages. He’s running the last 150 meters at this point. But he is filled with a solid longing to see unbelieving people become the committed followers of Jesus Christ. So he combines skill in tackling the prosecution case with the very drive of the gospel, which brings it home to Felix himself.

And so, as he wraps his case, he could legitimately have said, “And because the issue is the resurrection, therefore, it is a theological issue; therefore, it is a matter of Jewish teaching or not. It is not in the realm of Roman civil jurisdiction. Therefore, Felix, dismiss the case.” Could have said that, couldn’t he? I mean, he has all the grounds for a dismissal. But he doesn’t ask for a dismissal. Oh, you might argue that he didn’t have the chance to ask for a dismissal, because Felix jumped the gun and said, “Okay, we’re stopping this now. We’re stopping it now.” Felix is “well acquainted with the Way,” verse 22 says. He uses Lysias the commander as an excuse: “When Lysias … comes,” he says, “[then] I will decide your case.” Oh, you will, will you? Verse 23: “He ordered the centurion to keep Paul under guard,” but treat him nicely, within the framework of the privileges of Rome—he is a Roman citizen, after all—and let his friends come and “take care of his needs.”

Paul is more concerned that Felix becomes a Christian than that he gets released.

Now, we’re told that the reason he operated in this way was because he was in a pickle. He knew the charges were baseless. Therefore, Paul ought to be released on account of his innocence. However, he knew that he was up against it in relationship to the Jews because of the way he’d been treating them. So if he kept him in custody, it was a way of currying favor with the Jews. At the same time, he liked a little cash, and he thought there might be a possibility that Paul would be prepared to grease his palm and give him a little bribe money so as to secure his release.

And I think it is also possible that he was struck by Paul’s affirmations, that he was struck by the clarity and forcefulness of Paul’s case, and that he perhaps had begun to wonder about what Paul was saying—that he had an inkling that Paul knew something that he didn’t; that Paul knew someone that he hadn’t met; that Paul had a relationship with this Jesus of Nazareth, a life-changing, life-satisfying relationship. And after all, he’d been “lookin’ for love in all the wrong places.”[11] His whole life, as it came to relationships, was not solid. If he could find a love relationship that was transforming and life consuming, it would be something that he would be very interested in. So maybe in the back of his mind he said, “I’ll just keep him here for a wee while, and that’ll give me a chance—not in my official capacity here as the judge—that will give me a chance to have a chat with him when we’re on our own.”

And that’s exactly how the story ends. We go behind the scenes, verse 24. Behind the scenes. You come home from work. Your wife says, “How was it?” You come home from the law court, your wife says, “Was anything interesting today?” He says, “Well, I had Saul of Tarsus—he’s now called Paul—up today.” “How did that go?” “Well…” and he would have told them. They had their meal together, and so life would have continued.

And Drusilla apparently had some particular interest in this. Maybe she had a friend who’d been talking to her about Jesus of Nazareth. Maybe she herself was looking for the end of the story as she read her Old Testament Scriptures. Maybe she was looking for a consuming love relationship that would grant to her a free conscience and a transformed life. But whatever reason, she apparently is the catalyst for them going to the place where Paul is held and summoning Paul into their hearing and for Paul to speak to them personally.

Now, I preached this sermon some time ago—not as I’m about to preach it to you now, but I have a complete sermon on these final verses. You may remember it, and you can get it at the tape table. Let me go at it in just a slightly different way to finish things this morning. A little background: She was on her second marriage; he was on his third. She was a ravishing beauty; secular history records it. She was, if you like, for him just a prize. She was still very young; he was not. He had seduced her, snared her by the use of a Cyprian magician called Simon in a strange and bizarre series of events and secured her for himself. And so the two of them, as they come before Paul now, are there—at least in terms of their emotional, physical, relational, sexual experience—a complete royal mess.

They are, if you like, emblematic of the average twenty-first-century magazine story on the checkout counters of our supermarkets. It’s everywhere: “Jennifer likes him, he likes her, she went with him, she’s sleeping with him, he’s the friend of So-and-So,” there’s the thing. “Buy all this, and fill your mind with garbage.” Well, they would have been right on the front pages. The paparazzi would have followed Drusilla everywhere she went—just a good story, just a good picture, one more picture, and so on.

And here they come of an evening. And Paul says, “Well, let me just speak to you about faith in Christ Jesus.” What is the story of the gospel? Faith in Christ Jesus. “Let me tell you about who Jesus is. Let me show you that the Messiah had to suffer. And then let me show you that the Jesus who has walked the earth is none other than the suffering Messiah. And let me tell you that he died in order that our sins might be forgiven.”

And he says, “I want to talk to you about righteousness. I want to talk to you about right and wrong.” What a risk! “I want to talk to you about the righteousness which God supplies, which doesn’t come as a result of keeping the law but which comes as a gift of his grace to all who believe. And I want to urge upon the two of you that you would believe in this Jesus.”

“Can I talk to you,” he says secondly, “about self-control?” Can you see them just moving ever so slightly in their seats, looking at one another? Self-control? Their whole lives had been marked by unbridled lust. Did he tell them about the fruit of the Spirit? “Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, … gentleness,” and so on—“and self-control”?[12] Did he tell them that in Jesus there was a way to bring all of these passions and things under his jurisdiction and live within the joyful liberty of all that he intends in terms of interpersonal relationships? I don’t know, but he spoke about self-control.

And he capped it off by speaking concerning the coming judgment. Was he as bold enough as to say, “You know, Felix, I stood before you, and you haven’t even decided my case. But Felix, Drusilla, you will stand before God, and he will decide your case. And the case, Felix and Drusilla, against you is solid and strong and undeniable. And that is the significance of Jesus of Nazareth: that he comes and bears our punishment, dies in our place, secures the pardon from the Father, the Father and Son together paying the price for all of our sin and all of our rebellion. And I urge you, I urge the two of you, to come to faith in Christ Jesus.”

And “Felix was afraid,” alarmed. And he said, “That’s enough for now! You [can] leave [now]. When I find it convenient, I[’ll] send for you.”

Interestingly, there is no indication, certainly in the biblical record and not in the secular history, that Felix ever found a convenient time to settle the issue of faith in Jesus. We do know from secular history that Drusilla and her son died in Pompei. What was it, AD 76? You know from history—the eruption of Vesuvius. I can’t remember which one it was. It’s sometime around then. They were at a gala event. They were in the magazines. They were in the press. The flashbulbs would have been popping on the red carpet as Drusilla in all of her beauty, still as she’s grown older, with her son beside her, attended the great gala. And somewhere, as the dancing and the evening went on, they hear the sound of rumblings such as they have never heard, and before they have an opportunity to go anywhere, they are swallowed up by Vesuvius.

There was no convenient time for them. Some who come consistently here, whose presence I love, whose companionship I embrace, whose questions I tackle, some of you know—and you know who you are—you are Felix! You get alarmed. But your alarm has not brought you to repentance. Because fear itself will not. You need to be wooed by the sacrifice of Jesus. You need to be won by the love of Jesus. And so I beseech you on behalf of Christ: Why not today be reconciled to God—stirred by fear, wooed by compassion, and won by love? If it’s not convenient now, when do you reckon it will be?

Why not today be reconciled to God—stirred by fear, wooed by compassion, and won by love?

Father, thank you for the Bible. Thank you that we can go out of this room and take [Acts] 24 and search and see whether what has been said is actually in the passage. I speak, Lord, to sensible people. I pray that as they use their minds to think, that you will stir their hearts by way of repentance and faith, and that those who have been constantly putting things off like Felix, waiting for a more convenient time, may today—as they walk out of here, as they sit in the silence of their car, as they pause for a moment in the afternoon, as they lie to sleep this evening—that they may cry out to you for mercy and for grace, and that they might join Paul and countless others, worshipping the God of our fathers, walking on the Way, and living in accord with all that the Law teaches and all that the Prophets affirm, rejoicing in the resurrection and striving for a clear conscience before God and man.

May the grace of the Lord Jesus, the love of God our Father, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with us all evermore. Amen.

[1] See Acts 23:35.

[2] William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 2.2.

[3] Acts 24:5 (KJV).

[4] Don Schlitz, “The Gambler” (1978).

[5] Acts 21:39–40 (paraphrased).

[6] Acts 21:40 (NIV 1984).

[7] See Acts 9:1–2.

[8] John 14:6 (NIV 1984).

[9] See Luke 24:25, 27.

[10] See Acts 21:27–28.

[11] Bob Morrison, Patti Ryan, and Wanda Mallette, “Lookin’ for Love” (1980).

[12] Galatians 5:22–23 (NIV 1984).