"When Darkness Meets Real Power" Acts 19:8-21

Every year for Halloween, we celebrate that we’re not afraid of the dark. We decorate our homes with skeletons, witches, and inflatable monsters holding candy bowls. We carve smiling pumpkins with butcher knives, light candles in their heads, and then send our kids out dressed as demons and Disney characters to demand candy from strangers.

I know some Christians are skeptical of all this but Halloween might be the most Christian holiday of them all. What other night do we open our doors to complete strangers, delight in their disguises, and give them gifts asking for nothing in return? In the right light, it’s a powerful picture of the gospel.

Some of us even watch scary movies for entertainment. Curl up on the couch with popcorn and pretend like we’re in a cabin in the woods infested with hillbilly zombies.

The jump scares might get us but we’re not really afraid. “Greater is He that is in me, than he that is in the world”—we’re not afraid of the devil. For Christians who celebrate Halloween, that’s what it’s all about—Christ’s victory over death and darkness.

Of course, not everyone is looking at it from the perspective of light and truth. Some people are into dark things because they really like dark things—they’re true believers who actually worship the devil on purpose. I think it’s safe to assume they aren’t the ones buying ten foot skeletons from Home Depot, though. 

Most people just think it’s all in fun. They don’t really believe in the supernatural — not seriously. But they’re still drawn to it. Like moths circling a bug zapper. 

They laugh at the idea of a real devil but secretly check their horoscope, make wishes on their birthday cake, knock on wood for good luck, talk about how karma’s going to get people.

Zap!

We’ve been going through the Book of Acts line by line, and this week we’re in chapter 19.
Paul is in Ephesus — which is a city that made Halloween look like Hobby Lobby.

It was an actual center of witchcraft, idols, and sorcery. Everyone there really believed in magic, power, curses, and the unseen invisible world. It was a place obsessed with spiritual things.

We might not live in Ephesus, but we’re not that different.

We just rebranded the old idols. The truth is, everyone believes in some version of forces beyond what we can see, everyone worships something. And if we don’t believe in the God of the Bible as revealed to us in Jesus, we’re likely to believe in anything: Crystals, Tarot Cards, science (not as the exploration of God’s created universe, which is a good thing, but as a replacement for God—which is basic idolatry. Call it sciencism, if you want.)

We think we can control our world if we just say the right words, eat the right foods, buy the right supplements—even in the church.  We treat God like a vending machine—insert good behavior, a prayer in Jesus’ name, and expect blessings to drop like a Snickers bar.

We want power without submission to and faith in Jesus.
We want healing without confession or repentance.
We want miracles without Jesus and the Holy Spirit alive and active in our life.

And that’s a problem. Because when people who don’t actually know Jesus use His name for their own purposes—things tend to go bad.

Acts chapter 19 starting at…

[VERSE 8] “And he entered the synagogue and for three months spoke boldly, reasoning and persuading them about the kingdom of God. But when some became stubborn and continued in unbelief, speaking evil of the Way before the congregation, he withdrew from them and took the disciples with him, reasoning daily in the hall of Tyrannus. This continued for two years, so that all the residents of Asia heard the word of the Lord, both Jews and Greeks.”

Paul does what he always does—starts with the synagogue crowd. After three months of sermons, arguments, and headaches, some believed. Most didn’t. He must have had the patience of Job and the blood pressure of Moses. When the grumpier ones started “speaking evil of the Way,” (“The Way” is what Christianity was called back then) Paul didn’t throw a pity party; he was just like, “Fine, I’ll take my disciples and rent a lecture hall.”

Enter the Hall of Tyrannus—Ephesus’ equivalent of leasing a theater at Faith West Academy. Rented a school, probably used it during siesta hours (11am–4pm), when most people were escaping the heat of the day. Turned nap time into revival time.

This was one of Paul’s most productive seasons: two years of teaching every day to an overflowing room. A lot of disciples were made and those disciples carried the message of Jesus outside everywhere they went until “all the residents of Asia heard the word of the Lord.” That’s quite a claim! This church in a school was quite a launch pad; disciples who made disciples. This is what happens when the Gospel leaks into everyday conversations in all our places outside the church.

That’s the power of the Gospel—it spreads like light in the darkness. 

Nothing could stop it. If the synagogue kicks them out, rent a school. If the school closes the door, start a house group. When darkness throws a fit, keep preaching. 

Light always finds a way.

[VERSE 11] “And God was doing extraordinary miracles by the hands of Paul, so that even handkerchiefs or aprons that had touched his skin were carried away to the sick, and their diseases left them and the evil spirits came out of them.”

Well, that’s something. Luke calls these “extraordinary miracles,” which is funny because aren’t all miracles extraordinary—he’s like, “No really—this was extra-extra.” People were grabbing Paul’s sweat rags like holy relics—using them to heal people and cast out demons. These are not normal everyday miracles.

What’s going on here?

In a city obsessed with charms and talismans and magic, God beat the magicians at their own game—He spoke their language to show who actually owns power. This was a kind of redeeming culture, it’s like what he did at Mars Hill with the philosophers. Ephesus was basically the Hogwarts of the ancient world.

There wasn’t anything magical about Paul’s dirty laundry—the power was 100% from the Spirit of God and faith in Jesus. Miracles confirm the message; they don’t replace it. 

Still, for those of you who think we’re supposed to reenact all the miracles in the Book of Acts, we’re going to start giving away Kemper and my sweaty socks to the highest donors. You can use them however you want—they make great Christmas gifts.

No. 

But, sometimes God flexes in some weird ways. Really!? Sweat cloths!? 

The take-a-way is that God is powerful and works in ways we’ll never see coming. Just trust Him and see what the journey holds—it’s going somewhere good, and it’s bound to be interesting. For example, lucky number… 

[VERSE 13] “Then some of the itinerant Jewish exorcists undertook to invoke the name of the Lord Jesus over those who had evil spirits, saying, ‘I adjure you by the Jesus whom Paul proclaims.’ Seven sons of a Jewish high priest named Sceva were doing this. But the evil spirit answered them, ‘Jesus I know, and Paul I recognize, but who are you?’ And the man in whom was the evil spirit leaped on them, mastered all of them and overpowered them, so that they fled out of that house naked and wounded.”

This is like a scene from Guardians of the Galaxy—funny until you realize it’s terrifying. The Seven Sons of Sceva were traveling exorcists for hire. They tried to use Jesus’ name like a magic spell—a killing word like,“Muad’Dib!” (Where are my Dune fans?) That’s not how faith works. That’s superstition with branding. Not that people don’t still try.

Jewish exorcists claimed they had the power of Solomonic secret names; when they found out “Jesus” was a name that worked for Paul, they tried to upgrade their spellbook: “I command you in the name of the Jesus that Paul talks about!” The demon’s reply is iconic: “Jesus I know, and I’ve heard of Paul, but who are you again?” In other words, “You’re not on the list of people I have to listen to.” Then one demon-possessed man destroys seven grown men, rips their clothes off, and sends them running through the streets naked and bleeding. That’s a bad day for mercenary exorcists—this was going to be really bad for business: “Remember those phonies who got their naked butts kicked all the way down the street?”

We can’t just take our life as it is, tack Jesus onto it and expect it to work miracles. We can’t just borrow someone else’s faith, either. The name of Jesus isn’t a formula—it’s our new identity, our whole life. It’s not a “magic word.” We’re given His name and His authority and we receive it through faith.
We either know Him—or we don’t. He either owns us—or He doesn’t. And if He doesn’t, the devil still owns us. That’s why it’s called possession.

[VERSE 17] “And this became known to all the residents of Ephesus, both Jews and Greeks. And fear fell upon them all, and the name of the Lord Jesus was extolled. Also many of those who were now believers came, confessing and divulging their practices. And a number of those who had practiced magic arts brought their books together and burned them in the sight of all. And they counted the value of them and found it came to fifty thousand pieces of silver.”

News travels fast when seven guys streak through town bleeding. Suddenly everyone knows the name of Jesus—and were terrified of it. Fear fell on the whole city; the name of Jesus was respected and honored—people weren’t so willing to say they were with Jesus if they didn’t really mean it.

Then something else incredible happens. Those people who were already believers, already Christians, come forward confessing and repenting of their secret practices—admitting they’d been mixing Jesus with magic. They tried to keep both, hedging their bets: Jesus for Sundays, spells for the rest of week. So they bring out their magic scrolls and spell books—all their secret treasures—and throw it all into a fire.

These weren’t cheap paperbacks. They were hand-copied magical texts worth a fortune—fifty-thousand pieces of silver (millions of dollars today). This was publicly demonstrating a complete rejection of their old lifestyle and culture. This is what it looks like to have no other gods. And it looked crazy to the outside world. It would be like deleting your social media, quitting your job, and setting your bank account on fire—all to say, “I’m done pretending to follow Jesus, I’m going to really be all in from now on.”

True repentance.

Repentance always costs something. Real faith doesn’t just add a little Jesus mini-figure to the shelf—it clears the rest of the shelf entirely.

When we truly trust Jesus, we don’t keep a backup plan.

This was dying to their old self. To the unbelievers it looked like financial, social, and cultural suicide. True belief and true repentance isn’t just saying “I’m sorry,” it’s saying, “I’m done.”

And the Word of the Lord kept spreading. When we give our whole life to Jesus, the Gospel doesn’t just survive—it thrives and spreads from the ashes of what we once worshiped.

[VERSE 20] “So the word of the Lord continued to increase and prevail mightily. Now after these events Paul resolved in the Spirit to pass through Macedonia and Achaia and go to Jerusalem, saying, ‘After I have been there, I must also see Rome.’”

Momentary pause for a praise report: “the word of the Lord continued to increase and prevail mightily.” That’s code for “eat it darkness!” Every time someone confessed, repented, or spoke Jesus’ name with faith and authority, the light pushed further into the dark world.

Then Paul—never content to coast on his victories—is convinced the Holy Spirit wants him to go back to Jerusalem and eventually get to Rome. This is going to set Acts toward its grand finale: the Gospel reaching the heart of the empire.

This is what the real power of the gospel does: it doesn’t hide from darkness; it marches straight toward it.

Light moves into darkness.
Darkness pushes back.
  And light wins—every single time.

Okay, great story. A little spooky, a little action. magic napkins—but what does it have to do with us? Most of us aren’t nomadic wizards, don’t have demonic scrolls, or worship actual graven images.

Maybe not, but we’ve got our own version of magic charms.
Things we rely on to give us comfort, control, safety, identity.
I wonder what’s been coming to mind during this sermon? If you’ve been paying attention, what’s God telling you to get rid of? Or at least what do you need to submit to Him?

What are the things we cling to and rely on other than God? What’s our backup plan?

For some of us, it’s our image — the way we look—clothes, fitness—the way we want people to look at us, how we want people to think of us. Our curated social standing. Basically, the mask we hide behind so no one sees who we really are.

Or maybe it’s our work — success, status, security. Living up to the diploma on the wall or the certification, or the expectations of our family.

Money is a big one. We all tend to be like Gollum and hoard our money like the Ring of Power, “My Precious.” The reason we’re supposed to give the first ten percent, a tithe, of our money to God is to show Him that it all belongs to Him. That it doesn’t have our heart. Jesus said we can’t serve two masters—He was specifically talking about God and money. He’s happy for us to have treasure but He doesn’t want treasure to have us. Money isn’t the root of all evil—the love of money is.

Even good things like family or relationships—anything can get between us and God if we let it.

It could even be the way we approach our faith — the way we pray (using certain prayers like magic phrases, believing in how hard or how much we pray rather than the God we’re praying to), quoting Bible verses as if they work like incantations. God’s Word is alive and active but that’s true because it’s His Word and He’s alive and active. We don’t worship the Bible, we worship the God who gave it to us. We need to stay focused on Who our faith is actually in—we don’t have faith in faith. 

Because we’re all going to be tempted to treat faith like magic.
We want God to be predictable. To bless our plans, fix our problems, and protect us from discomfort. We want Him to do that on demand. We want to be in control.

But the name of Jesus isn’t a spell we cast—it’s a King we surrender to.

And surrender always costs something.

It costs our pride, our control, our self-justification.
It’s going to mean burning some scrolls—things we’re tempted to think we can’t live without. Things we’re holding on to too tight.

What are yours?
What’s your backup plan?
Is there something you hold onto just in case Jesus doesn’t come through?

Is there a secret sin you won’t let go of?
Maybe a resentment you feed because it makes you feel more powerful.
Maybe it’s a subconscious belief that you can save yourself if you just work harder, do better. try harder.

Whatever it is — get rid of it.

Because when darkness meets real power, something’s going to burn.

And here’s the good news: the thing that gets burned doesn’t have to be you.

On the cross, Jesus took all your sin, all your pride, all your idols, your illusion of power—and let the fire of God’s wrath consume Him along with all those things instead—instead of you.

In your place, He held all that darkness and let it all be exposed to the full glorious light of God’s justice—it would have burned you and me up—but He got back up three days later and said, “You’re welcome.”

That’s what real power looks like now. This is how we’re supposed to fight the darkness.
Not domination. Not control.
It looks like sacrificial love that conquers death. It looks like grace. Mercy. Kindness. 

That’s the power that’s going to destroy the world, the flesh, and the devil. 

That’s true spiritual power. That’s the power Jesus gave us to fight with.
The question is, do we believe Him, do we trust Him—the One who has all authority in heaven and on earth, and gave it to us? And if so, are we going to do what He said? 

Today is the end of Daylight Saving Time—personally, I think the time changing is stupid. But whether we like it or not, the days are going to seem shorter and it’s going to get dark earlier. A fitting analogy for how our culture seems to be headed. Darker and dumber every day.

And the world around us will keep playing in the dark. They’ll say all religions are the same, that truth is relative, that light and darkness can coexist. They’ll even slap it on their bumper.

But we know better—at least we should.

We should know we don’t fight darkness with darkness—with superstition or fear. We don’t use the devil’s weapons: anger, violence, cruelty, hatred.

We fight back with truth, love, and the presence of Jesus. 

Our battle isn’t with the people the devil has taken prisoner. We want to set them free. And that’s only possible when we use the authority Jesus gave us to speak His message of salvation over them—to them. When we tell them what He did for us when we called on the name of the Lord and were saved—we let them know the same promise is for them.

So, we can’t be afraid of the dark. We have to go into the dark places and be the light of the world. Get right in the face of the devil and set free all the people he’s trying to take to hell with him. We have to be on the offensive. The gates of hell will not stand against the church when we attack using the power of the gospel and love.

The church does not retreat. We move forward.

We take God’s light into the haunted places.
We speak with God’s authority—confident—because He goes before us and behind us, He’s with us.

And when darkness meets real power, the idols will fall, people will be set free, and Jesus always wins. 

Because God’s power is real. We can’t fake it. We can’t borrow it from someone else. We have to trust Him and live in it ourselves.

Because every day the devil is going to ask you a question, “Who do you think you are?”
And this is your answer: “It doesn’t matter who I am. I’m with Jesus. The one you fear.”

AMEN