Acts 16:16-24 "Who Do You Trust?"

I don’t know about you, but I’m having trust issues these days. I mean, it’s gotten to the point where I don’t even trust the people telling me not to trust people.
I scroll through headlines and wonder: Is any of this true? Everyone brings out their expert and it makes me wonder if “expert” just means “person who has access to Grok AI.” 

I’ve been lied to by corporations, advertisers, politicians, even pastors.

I used to work with a pastor who I would have considered a friend. One day he called all the leaders of our church into his office and had us one by one sit in a chair in the middle of the room. Everyone else had to take turns saying encouraging things to the person in the chair—he probably got the exercise from a consultant for getting more out of your staff, some team building thing. I think the phrase we were supposed to use was something like, “I see Jesus in you when…” And then add something true and uplifting. Like, “I see Jesus in you because you’re always just there for me.” ahh.

The whole thing walked a fine line between edifying and emotional hostage situation. 

I have to admit though, It felt pretty good. Sitting in that chair, listening to people say really nice things about me. Of course, it hit different depending on how well I knew the person or they knew me. I’ll never forget a lot of the things they said—I was definitely thinking about some of those things when the pastor and another staff person who was there (his administrative right hand—who had said the sweetest things) let me go without cause. Turns out, ‘I see Jesus in you’ was the setup for “...and now it’s time for your crucifixion!”

So, all that being said, along the way, my default became suspicion. Distrust. In the media, the market, human beings in general—and also religion.
I mean, I believe in Jesus—but I don’t automatically trust churches. Or church people. Or church leadership. Or Christian radio, or commentaries, or preachers.
I’m suspicious of anyone who claims to speak for God. Even myself.
Maybe especially myself.

We’ve all become professional skeptics. Our whole culture.
We say things like “speak your truth” and “live your authentic life”—things are ”true for you” and “true for me” “My truth, your truth”—but the result is no one believes there is such a thing as The Truth.

We’re bombarded with voices—TikTok therapists, news pundits, algorithms—all claiming to tell us what’s right, what’s good, what’s real, what’s not.
We hear all these contradictory voices and we trust… basically none of them.
It’s a problem. So what do we do instead?
We turn inward. We trust our own thoughts, feelings, and instincts.

Even with our faith. We’re like,  “Just me and my Bible.” “I don’t need no one to tell me about God!” “I don’t need no organized religion!” “I don’t need no church.” And we’ve been told the golden standard is our “personal relationship with Jesus.” As if I’m the only one following Him. Just me. But it’s more like driving around a personal echo chamber with Jesus-hype bumper stickers.

We say “we’re spiritual but not religious.” “We like Jesus but not His Church.”
We trust our gut—and close ourselves off from the rest of God’s people, and even look suspiciously at what He told us in His Word. We create our own personal Jesus, make Him just like us. He likes what we like, He votes like us, we got Him all figured out.

It’s small. And it’s dangerous.
Because when the only voice you trust is your own—you’re being discipled by a liar and a fool.

Today we’re going to look at a story that hits this head-on. 

We’ve been going through the Book of Acts line by line. Last week Paul and the gang showed up in Philippi and met a lady named Lydia who heard the Gospel, believed, was baptized, and dedicated every aspect of her life so the salvation that’s only found in Jesus could be known by as many people as possible. They had met Lydia at a women’s prayer meeting, and now they’re going back out to the river to see who else they can reach. Chapter 16… 

As we were going to the place of prayer, we were met by a slave girl who had a spirit of divination and brought her owners much gain by fortune-telling. Acts 16:16

They’re heading out to preach the Gospel and they run into a demon possessed fortune teller. She was a young slave—her owners made a lot of money exploiting her supernatural talents. This wasn’t just a scam or a parlor trick—this was real spiritual power. 

In the Greek, Luke calls it a 'pythonic spirit,' linking it directly to the Greek god Apollo and the oracle at Delphi. In other words, she was controlled by a demon pretending to be one of the so-called gods of Rome and Greece. We need to understand something about the Roman and Greek gods—they weren’t just made-up characters—they were demons—fallen angels, rebellious spiritual beings who tricked people into worshiping them and twisted the truth to lead people astray. The phrase “pythonic spirit” is a direct connection to the angelic word 'seraphim'—which is also tied to serpent imagery—”pythons” and “seraphim” are the same word in the Bible. So it's not a stretch to see this pythoness slave girl as a servant of a fallen seraphim, a fiery serpent-like former angel who turned away from worshiping God and followed the devil to enslave people. This fortune teller is bad news.

But the poor girl, she’s being exploited by her owners for profit—her slavery is both physical and spiritual. She’s their little money machine.

We definitely need to keep this in mind: Just because someone is spiritual, even if they can predict the future and say things that are true, doesn't mean they're speaking for God.

She followed Paul and us, crying out, “These men are servants of the Most High God, who proclaim to you the way of salvation.” Acts 16:17

Say what? What she says is true—but coming from her, it’s out of place. It’s like a demonic Yelp review. It might be true but it’s not being said in a helpful way. 

In Jesus’ own ministry (Luke 4:34, 41), demons were compelled to acknowledge His authority and who He is—but they don’t worship Him. Demons believe in Jesus but it doesn’t help them. And they don’t help anyone else. They twist truth to confuse people, they shout true things at people to keep them from hearing good things.

Paul doesn’t appreciate the public endorsement. He was telling people to stop worshiping false gods, and this little demon girl is following him around saying, “Yeah! This guy’s a slave of the Most High God. He’s going to tell you how to be saved!” Or maybe it sounded sarcastic, “Ooo, listen up, these men are servants of the “most high God”—they’re going to tell us how to be saved!” Paul would try to speak and she’d be like, “Listen everyone! To these men who are on a mission from God!” 

Also, in a pagan city like Philippi, “Most High God” could easily be misunderstood as Zeus—especially when it’s a popular priestess who’s saying it. So while the words are technically true, the context is confusing. It’d be like AOC and Bernie Sanders getting together to support Trump—something would seem very off.

And this she kept doing for many days. Paul, having become greatly annoyed, turned and said to the spirit, “I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her.” And it came out that very hour. Acts 16:18

Paul puts up with it for a while—but finally can’t take it anymore. He had enough. Sometimes God uses our impatience with things that annoy us to do the right thing. At least that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself. I mean, this isn’t exactly the same thing as how bothered I am by hearing people smack when they chew or open plastic wrappers too slow—this is probably little more important…  but you know—I can’t pay attention to the story when “slappy the popcorn muncher” sits behind me at a movie! So.. same.

The exorcism doesn’t happen in Paul’s name, but in the name of Jesus Christ—which carries the same authority when he says it as when Jesus Himself confronted demons. The same authority He’s given all of us when we speak in His name.

I don’t know why Paul waited so long to do it. Maybe he knew it would set things in motion that could shut down the little preaching revival they had going on. Maybe there were so many demon possessed people he didn’t know where to start. Maybe she was just so annoying he didn’t want to help her. Like Jonah in Nineveh. I like to think Paul wasn’t that petty but I might be.

Whatever the reason—her deliverance is instantaneous and final—a public demonstration that Jesus is stronger than any other spiritual power. Plus, Paul finally has some peace and quiet for his Bible study and prayer meeting—at least that was the plan.

The whole story is in sharp contrast with Lydia. Lydia was a respectable businesswoman; this girl is a marginalized slave possessed by a demon. But both are set free by Jesus.

But when her owners saw that their hope of gain was gone, they seized Paul and Silas and dragged them into the marketplace before the rulers. Acts 16:18

As far as they were concerned, Paul killed their Goose the Laid the Golden eggs. Broke their money maker. Religion is fine and dandy until it messes with the bottom line. 

The marketplace was the economic and social hub of the city, and the rulers were in charge of overseeing it. All this happens in public. The angry slave owners violently grab Paul and Silas in the middle of the prayer meeting and drag them downtown.

And when they had brought them to the magistrates, they said, “These men are Jews, and they are disturbing our city. They advocate customs that are not lawful for us as Romans to accept or practice.” Acts 16:20-21

Trumped up charges. They don’t accuse Paul and Silas of what they actually did—praying for a slave girl or even costing them income. Instead, they go straight for racial and cultural fears: “These foreigners don’t belong here!” “These Jews are messing with our Roman way of life.” “They’re breaking the law!” Not sure which law but… Rah!

In Philippi—a proud patriotic Roman colony—this was effective slander.

Even though Christianity was still just thought to be a new kind of Judaism, which was technically a “legal religion,” these guys were trying to make it sound like some crazy new cult. So they said Paul and Silas were dangerous outsiders introducing illegal, disruptive customs.

It’s a classic political move—“They’re not like us. They’re trying to ruin our way of life.” “Get the torches and pitchforks!”

The crowd joined in attacking them, and the magistrates tore the garments off them and gave orders to beat them with rods. Acts 16:22

There’s no trial. No evidence. Just misinformation and public outrage.

Mob mentality + fear + economic threat = violence. Sound familiar?

They strip off their clothes in the middle of the street. Roman officers start beating them with rods called Fasces (FASH-eez) which were part of the Roman lictor uniform to be a symbol of authority, discipline, and law—it’s where we get our word “Fashion” and “Fascism.” They were 3 or 4 foot rods made of flexible wood that would break the skin without breaking bones. Pretty nasty.

It was not only painful but in this case, illegal—they didn’t know it, but Paul was a Roman citizen, and later, when he finally gets a chance to speak, he’ll point out they never had a legal right to beat him like this.

The Philippians were proud of their law and order—so much for that—when it messed with their profit and business as usual. Again, sound familiar?

And when they had inflicted many blows upon them, they threw them into prison, ordering the jailer to keep them safely. Having received this order, he put them into the inner prison and fastened their feet in the stocks. acts 16:23-24

This mob had quite the temper. I don’t think they were actually worried about the “safety” of Paul and Silas—I think it’s more like “safe keeping”—“lock them up and throw away the key.” I’ve seen documentaries on the kind of prisons they had in Philippi. They’re not just in jail—they were thrown into a hole in the floor of a stone dungeon—the inner prison—a dark, airless, underground cell meant for maximum suffering. A place to be thrown away and forgotten.

Their feet are fastened in stocks—not for security, just for pain—they would stretch the legs causing cramps and agony. Nasty stuff.

This is where faithfulness gets you sometimes. They’re doing what God told them to do, they did something good—set a girl free from a demon—and they’re beaten, chained, and left for dead. What would you be thinking in that situation?

It’d be tragic if this was the end of the story. It’s not, we’ll get to that next week.

Paul and Silas had followed the unmistakable leading of the Holy Spirit to Philippi. They were right where God wanted them—telling people about Jesus, baptizing new believers, and watching lives be transformed. Lydia had just opened her home, and it probably felt like revival was breaking out. They were rocking it! But they did all this in a spiritual battleground. Philippi was full of competing voices—national pride, Roman gods, magical superstition, and religious exploitation. There were people using faith to make a buck, twisting spiritual truth for personal gain. And in the middle of that chaos, Paul and Silas show up with the real Gospel and it gets loud. The lies push back hard.

We live in that same kind of world. Our culture is a tangled mess of half-truths, hype, politics, platforms, and influencers. Patriotism gets confused with faith. Greed gets baptized in the health and wealth prosperity Gospel. There’s a podcast for every point of view. Everyone’s selling something. And when someone actually speaks the truth into this chaos—it’s disruptive. It costs something. The darkness feels it. When the truth that comes from God clashes with the lies of this world, the world will strike back.

But how can we even know the truth when we hear it? How do we recognize the lies? Are we saturated in God’s word so we recognize His voice? Do we pray enough that we are familiar with the Spirit when He speaks to us through the Scriptures, or the people He puts in our life? 

How can we tell good teaching from bad teaching?

Do we only agree with the Bible when it says what we like? Do we only listen to teaching when the teacher says what we want to hear? Do we only recognize spiritual authorities when we get to pick who they are?

Do we say we follow Jesus but it’s really a plastic DIY Jesus we made in our own image to look and think just like us?

Are we so afraid of being duped, that we don’t really trust anyone to speak into our life anymore?

Do we speak the truth to others? In unhelpful ways.

Are we like Job’s friends? Throwing truth bombs at each other and just causing more pain?

Would we recognize a person with a python spirit if it slithered up to us and bit us in the face?

We’re so jaded.

Do we really want to be a bunch of cynical, isolated people pretending to have a personal relationship with Jesus that doesn’t cost us anything or require anything of us?

A faith that never challenges us, never humbles us, never changes us? 

Because if we only trust the voices that agree with us—if we only hear God when He sounds like us—then we’re not worshiping Jesus. We’re worshiping ourselves.

And that’s not salvation. That’s a spiritual feedback chamber with a cross sticker on it.

But Jesus didn’t come to make us comfortable in our miserable situations—He came to rescue us.

You know who was really happy about this strange little story? 

The annoying slave girl.

I don’t know who you imagined you were in this story—but she’s who you are.

You were enslaved by voices you couldn’t silence. Trapped in systems that used you. Manipulated by powers you couldn’t see. Maybe you thought you were in control—maybe you were even proud of your sin—but you were not free.

And then Jesus showed up.

He didn’t wait for you to clean yourself up. He didn’t talk you into anything. He didn’t wait for you to figure it out. He didn’t wait for you to stop being so annoying, or stop sinning. He didn’t wait for you to say the right prayer or quote the right verse or get your act together.

He looked at your situation and said, “Enough. Let them go.” And He set you free.

And He did it knowing it would cost Him. Just like Paul and Silas took the beating for that girl’s freedom—Jesus took the beating for yours. Just like they were unjustly accused, mocked, and thrown into a dark pit—so was He.

Only Jesus didn’t just go into a prison cell. He went into death itself.

He bore the full weight of your sin, your shame—your chains—all injustice, all exploitation. And when He walked out of that grave, He didn’t just walk out for Himself.

He walked out for you. He took you with Him.

You’re the girl in this story. Delivered, not because you earned it, but because Jesus is stronger than your demons—your past. Your sin.

You are free.

Not to go your own way, not to invent your own truth, but to finally follow the Truth. Learning how to trust again. To believe again. To belong again.

You don’t have to listen to the liars anymore—not even the one in your own head.

Jesus has spoken. Learn to recognize His voice—hear His voice. Learn to trust His voice.

We live in a world that has lost our trust. And from the looks of it, it’s not getting better any time soon.

I still have trust issues—but I’ve learned that Jesus doesn’t just save me from other people’s lies—He saves me from my own.

But we’re people of faith. 

We believe there is One trustworthy voice that calls us into community, truth, repentance, and grace.

The only trustworthy relationship in this world is with the One who came into it to save us. So, yes, we need to have a personal relationship with Jesus. But the only safe place to have a personal relationship with Jesus is in His body—which is the Church. Even though it’s filled with sinners just like you. Filled with other flawed, forgiven, Jesus-trusting people desperately looking for something reliable in this extremely unreliable world. 

Why is being in the church safer than personal isolated spirituality? Because Christ speaks through His word, which is made alive by the Spirit, in the context of the body of believers—His church, His people. Your spiritual family.

The same ones who are going to get it wrong sometimes, who might fail you or let you down now and then—but they’re still here. Still hoping. Still believing. Still following Jesus with you.

Because even in our weakness, we know He is strong.

Even in our failure, He is faithful. 

And even in the chaos of competing voices, The One who set you free with a simple word of grace is still speaking. We need to learn how to hear Him together. His word is active and alive and His Word is true. AMEN