The Persecution of the Church (Acts #11)

Since it’s Father’s Day, I figured I had a good excuse to pull out my box of dad jokes — a gift from my children a couple of years ago, filled with about a hundred handwritten slips of paper. No guarantees.

A termite walks into a bar and asks, “Is the bar tender here?”

Sir, I’m afraid your DNA is backwards. …Aren’t I.

A son hands his dad a card on his fiftieth birthday. “Dad, you know one would have been enough.”

I was going to tell a joke about sodium — but then I thought, Na.

The Loss He Appreciated Most

This past February, a senior at Iowa City High named Ben Kueter became the thirty-second high school wrestler in Iowa to win four state championships. But he did something only a handful of others have managed: he went completely undefeated for his entire high school career. He never lost to a fellow Iowan in a sanctioned high school event. He then went on to win a world title before he’d even graduated. He’s headed to the University of Iowa to attempt both football and wrestling.

So it’s no surprise he was named Dan Gable Wrestler of the Year for 3A in 2023.

But if Kueter hadn’t been on the scene, I can tell you exactly who would have won it: Waverly-Shell Rock’s own Ryder Block.

Like Kueter, he’s headed to Iowa to wrestle. Like Kueter, he won a state title this past year — and it wasn’t his first. He won three. The one year he didn’t win, he lost in the finals to a future teammate who was claiming his own third title. And that single loss in a state final was the only loss of his entire high school career.

After winning his third championship, he was being interviewed by several journalists. And one of them asked: Now that your high school career is over, what do you appreciate most looking back?

I expected the standard answers. My parents’ support. My coaches. My teammates. Three team state titles, three individual titles — there’s plenty to appreciate.

He said none of it. He paused and said, “This is probably going to sound dumb.” And then he said what he appreciated most was the one loss — because that loss motivated him never to lose again.

We can debate whether that’s emotionally healthy. My point is simply this: his worst day led to his greatest days.

The Church’s Worst Day

Today we’re going to watch the early church experience its worst day — which is saying something.

We’ve already watched them endure persecution from the religious leadership. We’ve watched them navigate internal conflict. And all of that is going to feel like a walk on the beach compared to what happens today.

Not verbal abuse. Not physical abuse. The first martyrdom. A man is going to be killed for believing Jesus is the Messiah. And that single moment creates such chaos that the church scatters and appears to be finished.

And yet this very bad day is exactly what launches them into their greatest days.

Open your Bible to Acts 6. We’re taking a long swim today — finishing chapter 6, moving through all of chapter 7, and dipping into chapter 8.

Who Stephen Was

You met this man briefly last week. In Acts 6, certain widows were being discriminated against on ethnic lines. The apostles stepped in with a plan to make sure all the widows and the poor were cared for, and the church appointed deacons to oversee it.

Look at how the list begins in verse 5: the very first name is Stephen, a man full of faith and of the Holy Spirit.

Six more men are named, and none of them get a description.

Have you ever watched the credits roll on a film? The first actor listed is almost always the lead — top billing. Scripture often works the same way. When you see a list, the first name carries weight.

Luke wants us to see Stephen. So he lists him first, and he describes him.

But it’s as if Luke worries we still won’t grasp how significant this man was, because when he starts telling Stephen’s story in verse 8 he adds another description: And Stephen, full of grace and power, was doing great wonders and signs among the people.

Full of grace — an extraordinarily kind and compassionate man. He wasn’t judging people by their worst moment; he was seeing them through God’s love for them. His logic was simple: if God could give me grace, I can give grace to others. Exactly the man you’d want overseeing a ministry to widows.

And full of power — which doesn’t mean he was built like a bodybuilder. It means he had a commanding presence.

And out of that came “great wonders and signs.” We’ve seen that phrase in Acts before, usually as “signs and wonders” — and every previous time it was tied to the apostles. Those signs verified the message they preached about the resurrection of Jesus. God confirming the greatest sign the world has ever seen with additional signs, so people could see it, believe it, and give their lives to Christ.

This is the first time we see someone who is not an apostle doing them. That tells you what kind of man Stephen was.

And if signs are confirming his message, then he must be preaching. He isn’t merely behind the scenes managing food distribution. He’s out among the people telling them about Jesus.

They Couldn’t Beat Him in Debate

Then some of those who belonged to the synagogue of the Freedmen (as it was called), and of the Cyrenians, and of the Alexandrians, and of those from Cilicia and Asia, rose up and disputed with Stephen. But they could not withstand the wisdom and the Spirit with which he was speaking.

They hear him preaching about Jesus and try to shut him down in public debate. And they lose.

This immensely kind man could patiently answer, then point to the Hebrew Scriptures — what Christians call the Old Testament — and show how they pointed to Jesus. Everything they threw, he refuted, calmly.

It frustrated them to no end. And since they couldn’t beat him in argument, they decided to get rid of him another way.

Then they secretly instigated men who said, “We have heard him speak blasphemous words against Moses and God.”

To speak against Moses meant speaking against the Torah — the first five books, the Pentateuch. To the Jews this was the foundation of the faith. Most rabbis would have had all five books memorized. If this man is against the Torah, he is dangerous and must be removed.

And the lies work.

And they stirred up the people and the elders and the scribes, and they came upon him and seized him and brought him before the council, and they set up false witnesses who said, “This man never ceases to speak words against this holy place and the law, for we have heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth will destroy this place and will change the customs that Moses delivered to us.” And gazing at him, all who sat in the council saw that his face was like the face of an angel.

“This holy place” is the temple, and they’d have been pointing at it as they said it. The council is the Sanhedrin, the high Jewish court.

Why Does Chapter 7 Retell the Whole Story?

Chapter 7 is Stephen’s defense. And for years it confused me.

Because what he actually does is retell the story of the Jewish people. Not from Adam — he starts with Abraham, the father of the Jews, and works through Moses, David, and Solomon.

Any parents here with small children who insist on the same book every single night? Eventually you don’t need to look at the page — you can recite it. The kids love it; you’re bored out of your mind.

That’s how I felt. If I’m on the high court listening to this, I’m thinking: we know all this. Why is he doing this?

Then remember the charge: blasphemy against Moses and God. He’s accused of standing against Judaism itself.

And all through the speech he uses inclusive language. Our God. Our fathers. He’s saying: I believe exactly what you believe. Abraham is our father. God gave us the law through Moses. God established David as our greatest king. He’s methodically demonstrating common ground.

So if that’s what he’s doing — why do they kill him?

The Verse He Didn’t Finish

Remember the accusation: that Jesus told them to tear down the temple. The temple was the centerpiece of their faith — Solomon built the first one, and inside it, in the holy of holies, was where they believed God’s presence dwelt.

So Stephen works his way through Abraham, Moses, David, and arrives at Solomon and the temple. And then he says this in verse 48:

Yet the Most High does not dwell in houses made by hands, as the prophet says: “Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool. What kind of house will you build for me, says the Lord, or what is the place of my rest? Did not my hand make all these things?”

He’s quoting Isaiah 66. And on the surface he’s simply pointing out: we’re not here to destroy the temple, because God doesn’t live in a temple. This was never about a building.

And then, abruptly, verse 51:

You stiff-necked people, uncircumcised in heart and ears, you always resist the Holy Spirit. As your fathers did, so do you. Which of the prophets did your fathers not persecute? And they killed those who announced beforehand the coming of the Righteous One, whom you have now betrayed and murdered, you who received the law as delivered by angels and did not keep it.

How do we get from God doesn’t need a temple to you murderers? What triggered him?

The answer is what comes next in Isaiah 66. Stephen knew it. The Sanhedrin knew it. We might not.

Here is Isaiah 66:1–2 in full — starting where Stephen started, but continuing past where he stopped:

Thus says the Lord: “Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool; what is the house that you would build for me, and what is the place of my rest? All these things my hand has made, and so all these things came to be, declares the Lord. But this is the one to whom I will look: he who is humble and contrite in spirit and trembles at my word.“

God was saying through the prophet: I’m not looking for a temple. I’m not looking for a house. I’m looking for a person. I’m looking for a people. I don’t need a temple — I want you to be My temple. And what I’m looking for is someone humble, meek in character, who trembles at My word.

And the men sitting on that Sanhedrin were the precise opposite of everything on that list.

They were not humble; they were proud. They were not meek in character; they were bullying the early church. They did not tremble at God’s word; they were standing against it.

They believed they revered God’s word. And not long before, the Messiah — the Son of God, the one through whom God gave that word — stood in their presence, and they didn’t merely ignore Him. They killed Him.

So here they are, manufacturing lies about a man tearing down the temple, and he’s telling them: God isn’t looking for a temple. He’s looking for you.

And this kind, compassionate man simply loses it. Because he knows what kind of men Abraham and Moses and David and Solomon were. He knows they were humble and reverent. He knows their stories all point to Jesus. And these leaders refuse to listen or submit.

So it comes out: you stiff-necked people, uncircumcised in heart and ears, you always resist the Holy Spirit. They don’t want truth. They want power. They want things to stay the same, done their way.

They Stopped Their Ears

Now when they heard these things they were enraged, and they ground their teeth at him. But he, full of the Holy Spirit, gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. And he said, “Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.”

But they cried out with a loud voice and stopped their ears and rushed together at him. Then they cast him out of the city and stoned him. And the witnesses laid down their garments at the feet of a young man named Saul.

And as they were stoning Stephen, he called out, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” And falling to his knees he cried out with a loud voice, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” And when he had said this, he fell asleep.

They stopped their ears. They shouted to drown him out. And they killed him to silence him.

Trace the escalation. In chapter 4 the church is verbally pressured to stay quiet about Jesus. In chapter 5 they’re physically beaten to stay quiet. And now in chapter 7 they are being killed to stay quiet.

That is a very bad day.

Imagine you’re on vacation with your family and closest friends, and it’s going perfectly. Genuine unity. No arguing about where to eat. Constant laughter. The best trip you’ve ever had.

And then one of your party is brutally murdered.

That’s the church. We were reading about their joy and unity in chapters 2 and 4 — despite pressure from outside and conflict inside, they had something people spend their whole lives longing for. And now one of their friends, one of their leaders, one of their very best, has been executed.

It Gets Worse — and Then It Spreads

Back in Acts 1, forty days after the resurrection, Jesus gathered the disciples on a mountain and said:

But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.

The first part was fulfilled at Pentecost in chapter 2. And they have been effective witnesses — before the Sanhedrin, after the healing of the lame beggar, everywhere. The church has grown from a handful of disciples to roughly five thousand people.

We’ve even seen the gospel beginning to reach Judea. But notice how: people from the surrounding region are coming to Jerusalem. Everything in these first seven chapters has happened in one city. Nobody has gone out.

Until now.

And Saul approved of his execution. And there arose on that day a great persecution against the church in Jerusalem, and they were all scattered throughout the regions of Judea and Samaria, except the apostles. Devout men buried Stephen and made great lamentation over him. But Saul was ravaging the church, and entering house after house, he dragged off men and women and committed them to prison.

The bad day gets worse. Stephen’s death gives everyone opposed to the church permission to do the same. Saul — that young man from chapter 7 — is now going house to house, interrogating people, and anyone who confesses that Jesus is the Messiah is arrested. Some are killed.

So people scatter to save their lives. A church of five thousand collapses to dozens. Everything beautiful about being together is, in an instant, gone.

And it is on this horrible day that God launches the expansion of the church.

Two Things to Take Home

1. God is sovereign.

To paraphrase Joseph in Genesis, speaking to the brothers who sold him: what you intended for evil, God meant for good.

The same holds here. Jesus described Satan as the thief who comes to steal, kill, and destroy. He tried to steal the church’s joy through internal conflict. He tried to stop the church through outward pressure. Now he’s trying to kill the church through the killing of Stephen.

And God takes that horrible moment and works it for good.

Which means your worst day is not the end. God is still working.

In fact, your worst day may not be God disciplining you at all.

Don’t mishear me — sometimes it is. If your secret sin gets exposed publicly, that’s a bad day. It’s humiliating. You may lose relationships and respect. And God may be saving you from yourself, because you’re trapped and He loves you too much to leave you there.

But not every bad day is discipline.

I don’t believe the church was doing anything wrong here. The apostles weren’t teaching heresy. The church was loving one another, blessing their community, and witnessing faithfully — and they still had this day.

Years ago at a church planting conference I heard a pastor argue that this was discipline — that Jesus said Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and the ends of the earth, and the church got comfortable and stayed put, so God scattered them.

When I heard it, I agreed completely. Studying it this week, I no longer think that’s right.

The church was not hard-hearted. They were seeking to share the gospel faithfully. Remember where we are: this is still only months after the resurrection. Most of these five thousand people are brand-new to the faith. They grew up in Judaism and have just discovered that God fulfilled everything and the Messiah came. They’re in awe, and still growing in understanding.

And the fact that the gospel was already seeping into Judea — even by people coming in — makes me think the disciples were already forming a plan. Left alone, they likely would have started planting in Judea, and it would have spread to Samaria and beyond.

So I don’t think God is punishing them. I think Satan tried to kill the church, and God said: good try. I’m going to use the very thing you intended as a killing blow to give it more life than it has ever had.

Which means: yes, it’s a bad day when you lose your job — and it may be how God moves you into the career He always intended. Yes, it is a devastating day when the doctor says cancer and gives you months — and it may lead to the deepest relationships you’ve ever had with your loved ones and with God. Yes, that crisis is terrible — and the reordering of that relationship or those finances may lead into a far healthier season.

Don’t misunderstand me: I am not saying you shouldn’t feel the weight of a bad day. Mourn. Cry. I guarantee the church was not giddy about Stephen’s death, cheerfully noting that at least now they’d get out of Jerusalem. They were grieving. Hundreds, maybe thousands, were asking God why He allowed it.

And notice what they did anyway. Acts 8:4: Now those who were scattered went about preaching the word.

They didn’t stop. They fulfilled the mandate. As they spread through Judea, the very next story we’ll read happens in Samaria. And in this book we will watch the gospel reach the ends of the known earth.

They trusted God — and this wasn’t blind faith. They weren’t fools. They had watched Jesus die on a cross months earlier, and then seen Him alive. They knew what had happened. They weren’t peddling a story; they were reporting an event they had witnessed.

And if God could work through Jesus’s worst day to lead them into their greatest days, then perhaps God could work through their worst day too.

2. God wants you.

You heard it in Isaiah 66. God is not looking for a temple built by human hands. He is looking for the temple of your heart.

He wants you — humble, meek in character, trembling at His word.

Is that you? If not, that’s all right.

But be careful about the prayer you pray next. Too often we read words like that and it leads to: God, I’m going to try harder. I’ll read my Bible more. I’ll stop looking at that online. I’ll stop watching that show. I’m going to get better. Look how humble I’m becoming.

That is not the prayer to walk out of here with.

Instead of “God, I’m going to try harder,” pray: “God, help me become that man. Help me become that woman.”

Because that prayer is itself humility. It’s the broken spirit. It says: God, I respect You enough to let You accomplish in me what only You can.

This broken world desperately needs people who will live like Jesus lived and love like Jesus loved. And God does not want you trapped by your selfishness, your sin, or even your dreams — because He has something better.

So humble yourself. Surrender. Say: God, do in me what You need to, so You can do through me what You want to.

We see how much God wants you most clearly at the cross. He wanted you so much that He refused to let your sin keep you separated from Him. The penalty for sin is death — and He did not want you paying that penalty yourself, because paying it would mean being eternally separated from Him.

So Jesus came to die in your place, and to give you the life He always intended you to live.

It takes humility to submit to that. So ask God to give you that humility. Ask Him to change you. Ask Him to do in you what He needs to and wants to.

Your worst day is not the end of the story.