Acts 16:11-15 "Lydia"

I have to admit something. I’m not always a great listener. I try, but… 

Like, sometimes Kim will tell me something she wants me to do—clearly, slowly, with hand gestures—and I’ll look at her and nod, making eye contact—might even say “Got it.” Five minutes later, I’m standing in the kitchen holding a spatula and a cat… staring into the open refrigerator with no idea what she wanted. And we don’t even have a cat.

Sometimes we act like we’re listening, but we’re really just waiting for our turn to talk. We can see their mouth moving, hear words being spoken—technically, sound waves are going into our ears—they’re just not making it all the way to the brain. 

I have a fool-proof strategy for these situations—try this: just repeat the last couple of words they said and then say, “That’s very interesting.”

Works great unless the last thing they said was, “Are you listening to me?”

“Listening to me… hmm, very interesting.” That’ll actually land you in jail.

But here’s my real confession: as bad as I am at listening, I expect everyone else to hear everything I say. I want my kids to take every one of my wise, perfectly crafted dad-isms and treasure them in their hearts forever. FrankVerbs. I want my friends to nod thoughtfully when I talk about important things. I want my social media posts to change lives, one like at a time.

I see no contradiction here… 

I tune out when people talk to me, but I get frustrated when they don’t hang on my every word—especially if I’m talking about something that really matters.
Like faith. Like Jesus. Like the actual, eternal truth of the Gospel.

But when I realize they aren’t really paying attention. When it’s obvious my sage advice is being ignored. Then all is lost—I’m tempted to give up. “What’s the point? What difference does it make? What are words for, when no one listens anymore?”

And that’s the tension we live in. It’s a problem. Because the Bible says that faith comes by hearing… selective listening and spiritual zoning out are dangerous.

Let’s be honest. We are really, really good at tuning God out.
We treat His Word like we treat the terms and conditions of a new phone—check the box, and move on.

Even when we do pay attention, we filter out the parts we don’t want to deal with—like forgiveness, generosity, or anything that requires us to actually do anything we don’t feel like doing. We really like the parts that back up our opinions, and everything else only applies to other people.

Ever notice how hard it is to pay attention when someone is reading the Bible out loud? It’s like all of a sudden the person reading sounds like Charlie Brown’s parents. “Wah wah woh uh wah wah woh uh wuh uh woh uh!”

People ask what I do for a living and I tell them, “Well, they pay me to tell them things that they will immediately forget or ignore.” And they’re always like, “Oh, so you’re a pastor.”

It’s not all your fault. The whole world and the devil are in cahoots with our flesh to make all the noise they can to drown out anything God might say to us—to garble it or try to make us forget.

Plus, we don’t want to hear it!

We don’t want to listen to God—not when it’s inconvenient—but we still expect everyone else to listen to us.

About chores, and schoolwork, and priorities at work, and what to pick up at the store on the way home. Even about spiritual things:
We want our kids to take what we say about our faith seriously.
We want our friends to come to church when we invite them.
We want that Bible verse we posted on Facebook to go viral and change hearts and minds in the comment section.

And when those things don’t happen—when people don’t listen—we get discouraged.
We’re like:
“They’re just not open to it.”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“I’ve already told them once. I invited them once. I’ve done my part.”

I don’t know how to say it any better.

But what if it’s not about saying it better?
What if it all hinges on something we don’t even control?

What if we’re just supposed to keep talking and inviting and praying—until God decides it’s the right time for those seeds to grow into something.

We’ve been going through the Book of Acts line by line—last week Paul and the boys got a vision from God redirecting them to take the mission to Greece. We pick it up in chapter 16… 

“So, setting sail from Troas, we made a direct voyage to Samothrace, and the following day to Neapolis, and from there to Philippi, which is a leading city of the district of Macedonia and a Roman colony. We remained in this city some days.” Acts 16:11-12

They wasted no time—only two days across the Aegean Sea, thanks to favorable winds.
On the way, they pass Samothrace, a huge, mountainous island that was famous for a pagan mystery cult. They were like the Greco-Roman version of Fight Club—no one knows much about them because the first rule of a mystery cult is you don’t talk about the mystery cult. Paul and his team don’t stop there—just passing through.

Then they hit Neapolis, which is famous for making ice cream with chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla all in the same carton. Neo-pol-is. That joke was just for me. From there, it was a 10-mile walk along a Roman superhighway—to Philippi. 

Philippi was kind of a big deal. Named after Philip the Second of Macedon—Alexander the Great’s dad—it was a Roman colony, which means it had Roman laws, Roman architecture, and lots of retired Roman soldiers walking around looking important. It was like little Rome, just with more goats. They showed up in Philippi and hung out for a few days.

“And on the Sabbath day we went outside the gate to the riverside, where we supposed there was a place of prayer, and we sat down and spoke to the women who had come together.” Acts 16:13

Normally, Paul would go to the synagogue. But apparently, Philippi didn’t even have one. You needed ten Jewish men to form a synagogue, and they didn’t seem to have that. They were not in Kansas anymore—Gentiles as far as the eye can see.

But a group of women did gather by the river for prayer. 

So Paul and the guys go to a women’s prayer meeting, sit down with them, and start a conversation. Which, by the way, was highly unusual. Jewish teachers didn’t just go around talking to women in public. But Paul knows Jesus had already broken those social barriers in His ministry, he also knew the Gospel doesn’t care about those social boundaries.

But how do you think these women felt about a bunch of strange men crashing their women’s retreat? Do you think a bunch of religious women would be interested in anything these foreigners would have to say? It’s a weird situation.

“One who heard us was a woman named Lydia, from the city of Thyatira, a seller of purple goods, who was a worshiper of God. The Lord opened her heart to pay attention to what was said by Paul.” Acts 16:14

Hello Lydia. She’s from Thyatira—a city famous for its purple dye. She’s a seller of purple goods. She made her fortune squeezing purple juice out of tiny sea snails and making Prince costumes. Princes, princesses, rich people. Our girl is dealing in high-end fashion. Think Gucci, Versace… Lydia. She’s wealthy, independent, and has a purple clothing empire on Roman-Etsy. My daughter’s hero.

She’s also called a “worshiper of God,” which means she was a Gentile who worships the God of Israel—like Cornelius earlier in Acts.

And today was a big day for Lydia because… 

“The Lord opened her heart.”

Paul spoke.
She listened.
But it was God who caused her to listen.

The Holy Spirit did the heavy lifting. That’s how it always works.

“And after she was baptized, and her household as well, she urged us, saying, ‘If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come to my house and stay.’ And she prevailed upon us.” Acts 16:15

They’re already at the river. Boom. Immediate baptism.
Her whole household—family, servants, everyone—gets baptized too.
Notice that she is the head of the household—”Her household.”

They’re just doing what Jesus told us all to do: Go everywhere. Make disciples. Baptize them. Are you baptized? If not, come see me after the service, let’s get that taken care of.

This was a very productive little prayer meeting. The Gospel is preached, the Gospel is believed, and our little band of missionaries are suddenly invited to stay at the Purple Palace. She insists Paul and the boys stay with her. And she doesn’t take no for an answer.

“She prevailed upon us.”

She’s still dripping wet, she’s been a Christian for five minutes, and she starts bossing the apostles around. 

This woman didn’t just get baptized. Her whole world was baptized.
She turned her house into the first church in Europe.
That’s a pretty big deal.

Don’t miss what’s happening here. Because this isn’t just a nice story about a woman who sold luxury fabrics and invited some traveling preachers over for dinner.

This is revolutionary.

In the ancient world, women weren’t given a public voice, legal independence, or spiritual leadership.
And yet—who does the Gospel reach first in Europe?
Not a king. Not a rabbi. Not a man.
A woman. A Gentile. A business leader. A boss lady.

Christianity didn’t suppress women—it elevated them.
The early church was filled with women who played vital roles: Lydia, Priscilla, Phoebe, Junia, Mary Magdalene, the rest of the women at the tomb.

It was wealthy women who bankrolled Jesus’ ministry. It was women He first appeared to after the resurrection. The first disciples to proclaim “He is not in the tomb anymore but has risen” were the women. So have countless others—Sarah, Deborah, Hannah, Ruth, Esther—Look up Huldah and Jael! Total Girl Bosses! God is still calling women to do mighty things. Lady’s, the Church needs your wisdom, your leadership, your generosity. It always has and it always will.

Now Luke tells us, in this history of the early church, that it was women who first came to faith in Europe, women who planted the first church and started spreading the Gospel in the West—which means it was women who got the ball rolling for their equality. 

And I know people say, “Christianity is oppressive to women. Patriarchy! Handmaid's Tale. Keeping the sisters down!” But honestly? That’s just bad history.
In the first century, Rome allowed women to be property. Jesus called them disciples.
Rome discarded unwanted baby girls. The early church adopted them.
The Gospel has always been good news for women.

The freedoms and equalities that women enjoy today in Western culture—education, voting, property rights—all these things can be traced back to culture being shaped by the teachings of Jesus. Without the Gospel, without Christianity, none of these things would have happened.

So if you’re a woman in this room, you need to know this:
You matter. Your voice matters. Your faith matters. Your leadership matters.

Lydia wasn’t an exception—she’s part of a long line of women God has empowered to build His Church. 

Lydia’s like the Samaritan Woman Jesus met by a well. One little word and her life was changed. She heard, she believed—she started telling everyone she knew. The whole village believed. Lydia’s whole household was baptized—the Lord changed her heart. The Holy Spirit brought the word alive in her heart and she listened. 

And listening means a lot more than just having sound go into our ears. Listening—hearing the word of the Lord—means believing it. Doing it. 

But even when we try, we’re bad at listening.

We nod through church—or nod off. We skim Scripture. We hear the words, but our attention is somewhere else. God’s Word is like background music, like smooth jazz playing at the grocery store.

We need to constantly be praying, “Lord, open my heart. Open my ears. Help me to listen and believe—help me do what You want me to do. On earth as it is in heaven!”

We need to pay as much attention to what God is saying to us as we wish our kids would listen to us! 

Because we get so frustrated when they don’t listen to us.

Not just our kids—also our parents, our friends, our boss, our teachers, people at work. 

And people we want to share our faith with—our hope. Everyone we really want to have a change of heart and come to real faith in Jesus. Maybe we tried a couple times—tried to say it just right, but when they didn't respond, we either pushed too hard and pushed them away, or just gave up.

But I want to encourage you. Don’t give up. 

You are not the Holy Spirit. It’s not up to you to make them listen and believe—you just need to keep talking about what Jesus has done for you. Just keep planting seeds. Keep being faithful. Your faithfulness won’t save you—only Jesus can save you—but your faithfulness might help someone else hear the Gospel. Your faithfulness is just as much for other people as it is for you.

Lydia gave her heart, her home, her finances, her time—she gave everything. 

It sounds harsh but sometimes we act like we can believe in Jesus without following Him. Follow Jesus without doing what He tells us. Hear what He tells us and then ignore what He said. That’s called “not listening.”

That’s called unfaithfulness. 

I feel like I always have to remind us of what faithfulness is for. It’s not to save us. We’re saved by grace—not works—through faith in Jesus—in Jesus, not faith in our faith, or faith in our faithfulness. But there is no such thing as faith without faithfulness. Just like there’s no such thing as hearing without listening, or listening without doing what we heard. That’s called ignoring.

Are you listening? “Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?” Ha

Lydia heard Paul preach the Gospel and believed—against all odds.

This story is not about Paul’s killer sermon. 

It’s about God’s grace.

This story isn’t about Paul being persuasive. It’s about Jesus is the Good Shepherd—the true Pastor—who opens hearts.

“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish.” John 10:27-28

Jesus didn’t say, “If they’re smart enough, they’ll figure it out.” He says His sheep hear His voice.

He doesn’t wait for us to open our hearts. He comes to us, speaks to us, pursues us—and opens us up from the outside. Grace comes from outside us. God calls us.

“No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him.” John 6:44

The initiative is all God’s. He’s the one who makes hearts soft, ears open, and souls respond.

You didn’t find Jesus. He found you. You didn’t figure out your faith.

God opened your heart.

“So faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ.” Romans 10:17

You heard about Jesus and you believed. You heard the Word of the Gospel, and the Spirit used it to create faith.

He found you when you weren’t looking for Him.
He turned your dead heart into a living one.
That’s grace.

And the same thing is going to be true with the people you love—the people you want to see in heaven someday—your kids, your friends, that one person who makes a stink face every time you say “Jesus”—you can stop trying to argue them into faith. That’s not how it works.

Just say the words. What Jesus has done for you. What He’s done for them.
Lovingly. Kindly. Patiently.
Trust that God will use those words to create faith. That He’ll open their heart.

The Gospel isn’t powerful because you say it well—or know all the answers. It’s powerful because it’s true, and the Spirit makes it alive. 

You are saved, a beloved child of God, because He opened your ears to hear the Word of Christ—your ears, your eyes, your heart. You were invited into His heavenly home—you took Him at His word and you believed it. 

So what do we do with all this?

Ask God to open your heart every day.
Don’t assume you're good. Ask Him again. And again. Open the eyes of my heart, Lord!

Make your faith become more than internal.
More than just thoughts, more than feelings. Let it overflow—into your home, your budget, your hospitality, your schedule.

Is there any part of your life that says “Do Not Enter” to God? If Jesus walked through your life with a clipboard, where would He find yellow tape and pad locks?
Your calendar—where God gets penciled in if nothing better comes up?
Your wallet—where generosity has to wrestle with Amazon Prime and Taco Tuesday?
Your internet history—where you pretend God’s not looking?
Your relationships—where faith is a taboo subject because it might get awkward?
Your politics—where Jesus needs to get in the party line?
Your weekend plans—where worship has to compete with yard work, sleep, and brunch?
Your family life—where God’s invited to say grace… but not hang around and make things weird?
Your goals and dreams—where God’s welcome to bless them, as long as He doesn’t change them?

God is raising up more Lydias.
People who say, “Here’s my life. Here’s my home.” “How can God use everything He’s given me for the reason He gave it to me?”

Lydia led the way. You might think you can’t do much. She was a woman in the ancient world—and she made a big difference. 

We need to step up. We all need to stop being so shy to talk about Jesus—heaven, hell, salvation—we need to grow some boldness. But we also need to Stop trying to be the Holy Spirit in other people’s lives.
That job’s taken. 

We need to Start praying for the people we know to have open hearts and believe.
And keep praying. Don’t be discouraged, God’s timing is always better than ours.

If we’re praying about it then we’re more likely to remember when we share Jesus—with our kids, our friends, or whoever—that it’s God who opens their heart so they hear and believe. Our job is just to say what Jesus has done for us—and say it like someone who’s actually been changed. Your faithfulness outside of that conversation is going to go a long way toward helping them believe what you’re saying.

And then just walk around life looking for any opportunity to turn the conversation toward what you like about Jesus—not with pressure or manipulation—but with confidence.

And if you might be thinking, “Yeah, but I’m bad at saying it”—maybe Lydia thought she was, too. 

But her faithfulness still turned her house into a church—and a headquarters to take the Gospel to the rest of the world.

Remember that story about me not being a great listener? About Kim giving me clear instructions and somehow I ended up confused in front of an open fridge?

Well… maybe you’re kinda sitting there half zoned out—wondering why life feels so confusing or disconnected sometimes.

Could it be… that you weren’t really listening?

Well, here’s the Good News:
God still speaks.
He’s still calling you.
He’s still opening your heart.

You might not have been paying attention.
But Jesus has.
He knows your voice, He hears your prayers, and He’s never tuned you out.
Not once.

So today—hear His voice.
Listen. Believe.
Let it change your life.

Maybe He’ll open your heart today.
Maybe you’ll walk out of here more open—to listen well and speak boldly.
Open your life in service of the Gospel—your home, your table, your wallet, your whole schedule given to God for His glory.

And then leave the results to Him—He knows exactly what He’s doing. Amen.