Sermon Recap September 13
On Trial and Still On Mission: How Every Hardship Can
Become a Platform for the Gospel
There is a question worth sitting with for a moment. When life gets hard, when circumstances spiral beyond your control, when you find yourself in a season you never saw coming, what is your first instinct? Most of us default to survival mode. We focus on getting through it, managing the pain, or simply waiting for things to improve. But what if the trials we endure are not just obstacles to overcome? What if they are invitations to something far greater?
The life of the apostle Paul offers one of the most compelling answers to that question. By the time we reach Acts 26, Paul has been on trial five times. He has been falsely accused, imprisoned, threatened, and dragged before the most powerful political and religious figures of his day. And yet, standing before King Agrippa in what amounts to his final legal defense, Paul does something remarkable. He does not plead for sympathy. He does not negotiate for freedom. He preaches the gospel.
That is the posture worth examining. That is the perspective worth adopting.
Seeing Your Audience Differently
Paul opens his defense before King Agrippa by saying he considers himself fortunate to stand before him. At first glance, that seems like diplomatic flattery. But the reason Paul counts himself fortunate has nothing to do with the possibility of being released. He counts himself fortunate because his chains have delivered him an audience he never would have had otherwise. The nobility of Rome, the religious elite of Jerusalem, and the King of the Jews himself are all gathered in one room, and Paul gets to tell them about Jesus.
That reframes everything.
Think about the hardships in your own life right now. A health crisis. A fractured relationship. A financial struggle. A season of grief. These are real, and they are painful. But they also place you in proximity to people you might never otherwise encounter. Hospital waiting rooms. Rehabilitation centers. Funeral homes. Ambulances. Tow trucks. The question worth asking in the middle of your difficulty is not only, what is this doing to me? It is also, who has this brought into my path?
A woman involved in a serious car accident conducted herself with such calm and grace that the other driver, the one at fault, looked at her and said, I just knew you were a Christian. Before a single word of the gospel had been spoken, the gospel had already been seen. That is what it looks like to be on mission even when life has gone sideways.
The Power of an Honest Story
Paul's testimony in Acts 26 is striking for its honesty. He does not sanitize his past. He tells King Agrippa plainly that he was once the persecutor, the one dragging Christians from their homes, imprisoning them, and standing by approvingly as they were put to death. He was the enemy of the very faith he now champions.
And here is what that honesty accomplishes. It creates a question in the minds of everyone listening. What happened? How does a man go from that to this? How does the persecutor become the persecuted? Paul lets the question build, and then he answers it with the Damascus Road. The blinding light. The voice of Jesus. The moment everything changed.
Your story may not be as dramatic as Paul's. But if you belong to Jesus, you have a story. There was a version of you before the gospel, and there is a version of you now. That contrast, however subtle or dramatic, is exactly what the people around you need to hear. Not because you are the hero of the story, but precisely because you are not.
Paul shares his entire testimony, all the remarkable details of his conversion and his commissioning, and somehow he is not the hero of it. Jesus is. He tells the story in such a way that puts Christ at the center, making clear that it was not his own willpower or religious devotion that changed him. It was an encounter with the risen Jesus.
That is the kind of testimony that opens hearts. Not a polished performance, but an honest account of what you were, what happened, and who gets the credit.
A Gospel With No Exceptions
One of the most important threads running through Paul's defense is the comprehensive nature of the gospel. Jesus commissioned Paul to carry the good news to both Jews and Gentiles, to the small and the great, to those near and those far. The gospel, Paul insists, is not the exclusive property of any one culture, class, or background.
This matters for how we engage the world around us. The gospel is not reserved for people who already look like us, speak like us, or share our traditions. It belongs to the nurse working a night shift. It belongs to the skeptic asking hard questions. It belongs to the person sitting beside you at lunch today who has never once heard that Jesus rose from the dead and that His resurrection changes everything.
Paul describes the gospel's work in vivid terms in Acts 26, summarizing how it opens blind eyes, turns people from darkness to light, and moves them from the power of darkness into a relationship with God. That is not a partial transformation. That is a total one. The gospel does not improve a corner of your life. It reorients all of it.
The Hope That Holds
Paul concludes his testimony by pointing to the resurrection. Christ suffered, died, and was the first to rise from the dead. That is the anchor of everything. Our hope is not that tomorrow will be easier than today. Our hope is that the same Jesus who conquered death is at work in our lives right now, and that one day He will set all things right.
Whatever trial you are carrying today, the resurrection means it does not have the final word. The hardship is real. The pain is real. But so is the power of the One who walked out of the tomb.
The invitation is simply this: stop waiting for the trial to end before you start living on mission. The audience is already in front of you. The story has already been given to you. And the hero of that story is already at work.
Become a Platform for the Gospel
There is a question worth sitting with for a moment. When life gets hard, when circumstances spiral beyond your control, when you find yourself in a season you never saw coming, what is your first instinct? Most of us default to survival mode. We focus on getting through it, managing the pain, or simply waiting for things to improve. But what if the trials we endure are not just obstacles to overcome? What if they are invitations to something far greater?
The life of the apostle Paul offers one of the most compelling answers to that question. By the time we reach Acts 26, Paul has been on trial five times. He has been falsely accused, imprisoned, threatened, and dragged before the most powerful political and religious figures of his day. And yet, standing before King Agrippa in what amounts to his final legal defense, Paul does something remarkable. He does not plead for sympathy. He does not negotiate for freedom. He preaches the gospel.
That is the posture worth examining. That is the perspective worth adopting.
Seeing Your Audience Differently
Paul opens his defense before King Agrippa by saying he considers himself fortunate to stand before him. At first glance, that seems like diplomatic flattery. But the reason Paul counts himself fortunate has nothing to do with the possibility of being released. He counts himself fortunate because his chains have delivered him an audience he never would have had otherwise. The nobility of Rome, the religious elite of Jerusalem, and the King of the Jews himself are all gathered in one room, and Paul gets to tell them about Jesus.
That reframes everything.
Think about the hardships in your own life right now. A health crisis. A fractured relationship. A financial struggle. A season of grief. These are real, and they are painful. But they also place you in proximity to people you might never otherwise encounter. Hospital waiting rooms. Rehabilitation centers. Funeral homes. Ambulances. Tow trucks. The question worth asking in the middle of your difficulty is not only, what is this doing to me? It is also, who has this brought into my path?
A woman involved in a serious car accident conducted herself with such calm and grace that the other driver, the one at fault, looked at her and said, I just knew you were a Christian. Before a single word of the gospel had been spoken, the gospel had already been seen. That is what it looks like to be on mission even when life has gone sideways.
The Power of an Honest Story
Paul's testimony in Acts 26 is striking for its honesty. He does not sanitize his past. He tells King Agrippa plainly that he was once the persecutor, the one dragging Christians from their homes, imprisoning them, and standing by approvingly as they were put to death. He was the enemy of the very faith he now champions.
And here is what that honesty accomplishes. It creates a question in the minds of everyone listening. What happened? How does a man go from that to this? How does the persecutor become the persecuted? Paul lets the question build, and then he answers it with the Damascus Road. The blinding light. The voice of Jesus. The moment everything changed.
Your story may not be as dramatic as Paul's. But if you belong to Jesus, you have a story. There was a version of you before the gospel, and there is a version of you now. That contrast, however subtle or dramatic, is exactly what the people around you need to hear. Not because you are the hero of the story, but precisely because you are not.
Paul shares his entire testimony, all the remarkable details of his conversion and his commissioning, and somehow he is not the hero of it. Jesus is. He tells the story in such a way that puts Christ at the center, making clear that it was not his own willpower or religious devotion that changed him. It was an encounter with the risen Jesus.
That is the kind of testimony that opens hearts. Not a polished performance, but an honest account of what you were, what happened, and who gets the credit.
A Gospel With No Exceptions
One of the most important threads running through Paul's defense is the comprehensive nature of the gospel. Jesus commissioned Paul to carry the good news to both Jews and Gentiles, to the small and the great, to those near and those far. The gospel, Paul insists, is not the exclusive property of any one culture, class, or background.
This matters for how we engage the world around us. The gospel is not reserved for people who already look like us, speak like us, or share our traditions. It belongs to the nurse working a night shift. It belongs to the skeptic asking hard questions. It belongs to the person sitting beside you at lunch today who has never once heard that Jesus rose from the dead and that His resurrection changes everything.
Paul describes the gospel's work in vivid terms in Acts 26, summarizing how it opens blind eyes, turns people from darkness to light, and moves them from the power of darkness into a relationship with God. That is not a partial transformation. That is a total one. The gospel does not improve a corner of your life. It reorients all of it.
The Hope That Holds
Paul concludes his testimony by pointing to the resurrection. Christ suffered, died, and was the first to rise from the dead. That is the anchor of everything. Our hope is not that tomorrow will be easier than today. Our hope is that the same Jesus who conquered death is at work in our lives right now, and that one day He will set all things right.
Whatever trial you are carrying today, the resurrection means it does not have the final word. The hardship is real. The pain is real. But so is the power of the One who walked out of the tomb.
The invitation is simply this: stop waiting for the trial to end before you start living on mission. The audience is already in front of you. The story has already been given to you. And the hero of that story is already at work.
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