Acts 26:24 - Meaning and Application

We have reason to think Paul had much more to say in defense of the gospel he preached, and for its honor. He had just come to the heart of the matter, the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and this was where he felt most at home. Once he reached that subject, he grew even more earnest, his heart opened wider, and he could have gone on much longer. The power of Christ’s death and sharing in Christ’s sufferings were endless subjects for him. So it is sad that he was interrupted here, after being allowed to speak for himself (Acts 26:1), before he could finish all he meant to say.

But that was a burden he often carried, and it is a disappointment for us too, since we read his speech with so much interest. Yet there is no help for it, the court is ready to give its judgment in his case. Festus, the Roman governor, thinks the poor man is out of his mind and that an asylum is the right place for him. He is convinced Paul is not a criminal or a bad man who should be punished, but a mentally disturbed man who should be pitied and ignored. In this way, Festus thinks he has found a way to avoid both condemning Paul as a prisoner and believing him as a preacher. If Paul is not in his right mind, then he need not be judged or trusted.

Notice, first, what Festus said about him: he cried out with a loud voice. He did not say it quietly to those near him, which would have been more excusable. Instead, without even consulting Agrippa, to whose judgment he had seemed to show great respect (Acts 25:26), he spoke aloud so that he might stop Paul and turn the listeners away from what he was saying: “Paul, you are out of your mind. You talk like a madman, like someone with a fevered brain who does not know what he is saying.” Yet Festus did not think a guilty conscience had shattered Paul’s reason, or that his sufferings and the fury of his enemies had damaged it. He chose the most generous explanation he could: “Much learning has made you mad. You have broken your brain with studying.”

He said this less in anger than in scorn and contempt. He did not understand what Paul was saying. It was beyond him, like a riddle, so he blamed it on an overworked imagination. If you do not want to be understood, you should not expect people to pay attention to you. Festus admits Paul is a learned man, since Paul could so easily refer to what Moses and the prophets wrote, books Festus did not know. Even this is used against Paul. The apostles, who were fishermen, were mocked because they had no learning. Paul, who had a university education and had been trained as a Pharisee, is mocked as having too much learning, more than was good for him. So it has often been with Christ’s ministers, their enemies always find something to attack.

Festus also insults him by calling him mad. That was how the prophets of the Old Testament were often treated, to turn people against them by giving them a bad name. “Why has this mad fellow come to you?” was said about one of the prophets (2 Kings 9:11; Hosea 9:7). John the Baptist and Christ were also accused of having a demon, as if they were insane. It is likely that Paul spoke now with more life and feeling than he had at the start of his speech, and that his gestures showed his zeal more strongly. That gave Festus an excuse to slap this insulting label on him, though probably no one else there thought of it. It is not harmless to speak lightly of people who are more zealous for religion than others and say they are crazy.

Paul then cleared himself of this ugly charge, whether he had faced it before or not. It seems the false apostles had said this about him, for he wrote, “If we are out of our minds, as they say we are, it is for God” (2 Corinthians 5:13). But he had never been accused of this before the Roman governor, so he had to answer it. He denied the charge with full respect for the governor, but also with fairness to himself, saying there was no reason at all for it: “I am not mad, most noble Festus. My reason has been sound all my life, thank God, and I am not wandering now. I am speaking words of truth and soberness, and I know what I am saying” (Acts 26:25).

Notice that even though Festus used low and insulting language, Paul did not answer in kind. He gave the governor proper respect by calling him “most noble Festus.” This teaches us not to return insults with insults, or ugly words with ugly words, but to speak with courtesy even to those who speak slightingly of us. We should always speak words of truth and soberness, and then we can leave unfair criticism to God.

Paul also appealed to Agrippa about what he had been saying (Acts 26:26): “The king knows about these things,” meaning Christ, his death and resurrection, and the Old Testament prophecies that were fulfilled in them. So Paul spoke freely before a man who knew these were not dreams, but facts. Agrippa knew something about them and would be glad to know more. Paul was sure that none of this was hidden from him, not even what Paul had told about his own conversion and the mission he received to preach the gospel. Agrippa could hardly have missed hearing of it, since he had long lived among the Jews. This thing had not happened in secret. The whole country had heard about it, and any Jews present could have confirmed that they had heard it many times from others. So it was unreasonable to call Paul insane for telling this story, much less for speaking of the death and resurrection of Christ, which everyone was talking about. Peter said something similar to Cornelius and his friends: “That message you know, which was published throughout all Judea concerning Christ” (Acts 10:37). Agrippa therefore could not have been ignorant of it, and it was a shame for Festus to be so unaware.

Agrippa, far from thinking Paul mad, thought he had never heard a man argue more strongly or speak more to the point. Paul then pressed closely on Agrippa’s conscience. Some think Festus was irritated because Paul kept his eyes on Agrippa and aimed his whole speech at him, which is why he interrupted him here (Acts 26:24).

But if that is what offended him, Paul does not let it stop him. He keeps speaking to the people who understand him, and whom he hopes to reach, so he still speaks directly to Agrippa. Since he has already said that Moses and the prophets support the gospel he preaches, he turns Agrippa back to them (Acts 26:27): “King Agrippa, do you believe the prophets? Do you accept the Old Testament Scriptures as God’s word and as a promise of things to come?” He does not wait for an answer, but, as a sign of respect, he takes it as settled: “I know that you believe.”

Everyone knew that Agrippa, King Agrippa, publicly claimed the Jewish religion, as his ancestors had done. So he knew the writings of the prophets and accepted their authority. It is wise to work with people who know the Scriptures and believe them, because you already have some ground with them.

Agrippa admits that Paul has made a strong case (Acts 26:28): “Almost you persuade me to become a Christian.” Some understand this as sarcasm and read it like this, “In so little time, do you think you can make me a Christian?” Even then, it still means Paul had spoken very much to the point, and that his words carried force. It is as if Agrippa were saying, “Paul, you are moving too fast. You cannot expect to make me a believer all at once.”

Others take Agrippa seriously and understand him as saying that he was nearly convinced Christ was the Messiah. He could not help admitting, and had often thought to himself, that the prophecies in the Old Testament were fulfilled in Christ. Now, with this strong appeal, he is ready to give in. He is like a man starting to ask for terms before surrendering. He is as close to believing in Christ as Felix, when he trembled, was to giving up his sins.

Agrippa sees many good reasons for Christianity. He admits the evidence is strong, and he cannot answer it. He also sees that the objections against it are weak, and he would be ashamed to keep pressing them. Still, he is held back by his ties to the ceremonial law, that is, the old Jewish system of rituals and outward worship, and by his respect for the religion of his fathers and country. His rank as a king and his worldly interests also hold him back. Many people are almost persuaded to be religious, but not fully persuaded. They are deeply convinced of their duty and of the goodness of God’s ways, yet some outside pressure keeps them from acting on what they know.

Paul does not get time to continue his argument, so he ends with a respectful wish, or rather a prayer, that all his hearers might be Christians. “I pray to God for it” (Acts 26:29). It was his heart’s desire and prayer to God that they all might be saved (Romans 10:1). He wants not only Agrippa, but all who hear him that day, to be almost, and altogether, like him, except for these chains. In this, he shows his firm resolve to stay with the faith he is fully satisfied with, and to live and die by it. By wishing they were all like him, he is also saying that he will never become like them, whether they are Jews or Gentiles, no matter what advantage that might bring him in the world. He follows God’s charge to the prophet: “Let them turn to you, but do not turn to them” (Jeremiah 15:19).

He also shows that he is content not only with the truth of Christianity, but with its good fruit and blessing. He has so much comfort in it now, and so much confidence that it will end in eternal joy, that he could wish nothing better for even his closest friend than to become a faithful, zealous disciple of Jesus Christ. Job said, “Let my enemy be as the wicked” (Job 27:7). Paul could say, “Let my friend be as the Christian.”

He is also sorry that Agrippa has gone no farther than almost being like him, almost a Christian, but not fully one. He wants him, and the others too, to be not merely almost, but altogether, like him, sincere and wholehearted Christians. He also means that this is a concern for all of them, and their greatest possible happiness. There is grace enough in Christ for everyone, no matter how many come, and enough for each person, no matter how much they need.

Paul shows real kindness to them all. He wishes for them what he wishes for his own soul, that they may be as happy in Christ as he is. He also wishes they might be better off than he is in outward circumstances, since he adds, “except these chains.” He wants them to share his comfort as Christians, but not his suffering as a prisoner for Christ. They had treated his imprisonment lightly and had shown no concern for him. Felix had kept him in chains to please the Jews. Many in his place would have wished them to suffer as he did, so they might know what prison was like and learn to pity him. Paul does the opposite. He wishes them bound to Christ, but never bound for Christ. Nothing could be more tender or gracious.

All agree that Paul is innocent and wrongly accused. The hearing ended a little suddenly (Acts 26:30). After Paul spoke that gracious word in verse 29, which touched them all, the king was afraid that if Paul kept going, he might say something even more moving. That might persuade some to speak more in his favor than was comfortable, and might even lead them toward Christianity. The king felt his own heart beginning to yield, and he did not dare hear more. Like Felix, he dismissed Paul for the time being.

By justice, they should have asked the prisoner whether he had anything more to say for himself. But they thought he had said enough, so the king rose, along with the governor, Bernice, King Agrippa’s sister, and the others who were seated with them. They decided the matter was clear, though Paul still had more to say that would have made it even clearer. Then they withdrew and talked it over among themselves. They all agreed on the same judgment, that this man is doing nothing deserving chains. He is not a dangerous man who ought to be kept under guard.

After this, Nero later made a law putting to death those who professed the Christian faith. But at this point, no such law existed among the Romans, so Paul had broken no law. In fact, this decision of the court stands as a witness against Nero’s later wicked law. Paul was the most active and zealous Christian who ever lived, yet even judges who were not friendly to his beliefs decided that he had done nothing worthy of death or even imprisonment. In this way, Paul was shown to be in the clear in the conscience of those who still refused to accept his message. The angry cries of the Jews, who shouted, “Away with him, it is not fit that he should live,” were put to shame by the calm judgment of this court.

Agrippa gave his opinion that Paul could have been released if he had not appealed to Caesar (Acts 26:32). But that appeal had now blocked his own release. Some think Roman law really worked that way. Once a prisoner appealed to the highest court, lower courts could no longer free him, just as they could no longer condemn him. That may have been true if the accusers agreed to the appeal and joined the case. But in Paul’s case, it does not seem that they did. He was forced to appeal in order to protect himself from their violence, when he saw that the governor had not protected him as he should have.

Others think that Agrippa and Festus, the Roman ruler, were unwilling to offend the Jews by setting Paul free, so they used the appeal as an excuse to keep him in custody, even though they knew they could have justified releasing him. Agrippa, who was only almost persuaded to become a Christian, ends up doing no better than if he had not been persuaded at all. Paul’s case shows how weak a half-hearted response can be.

I cannot say whether Paul regretted appealing to Caesar and wished he had not done it. He may have looked back on it as a rash choice, since it was the only thing that kept him from being released. He may have felt that he acted with too much haste, too little patience, and too little trust in God’s care. In that sense, he might have thought he would have done better to appeal to God rather than to Caesar. This agrees with Solomon’s words, “Who knows what is good for a man in this life?” (Ecclesiastes 6:12). What seems best to us often turns out to be a trap. We are short-sighted and badly advised when we lean on our own understanding.

Or perhaps Paul was fully content with what he had done. His appeal was lawful, fitting for a Roman citizen, and likely helped make his case more serious in the eyes of the court. When he made that appeal, it seemed best to him at the time. Even if it later looked unwise, he did not torture himself with regret. He believed God’s providence was at work in it, and that things would turn out well in the end. Besides, the Lord had already told him in a vision that he must bear witness for Christ in Rome (Acts 23:11). Whether he went there as a prisoner or as a free man mattered less to him, because he knew the Lord’s purpose would stand. He could say, “Let it stand. The will of the Lord be done.”