Acts 21:17-22:23 "Your Story is Powerful"

I’ve spent most of my life trying to win arguments. You can ask my wife, Kim—she’s known me since the 7th grade. I remember one time I was sent to the principal’s office, probably for arguing with a teacher. I was 13. I’m sitting in a chair in front of his desk and he’s talking about how I just argue to argue. He said, “If I said the sky was blue, you’d be like, ‘No, it isn’t.” I totally remember this because I was sitting there thinking, “Well, I mean, in Illinois the sky’s grey most of the winter, and it’s black at night, so…” My mom said I should have been a lawyer. I think I’ve gotten better, probably not, but for most of my life, I genuinely believed that if I could just make a good enough argument, if I could just be clear and logical and hit people with undeniable facts, they’d slap their forehead, and say, "Frank, you’re so right. How could I have been so wrong?"

Do you know how many times that actually happened? Zero. Not once. Especially when it comes to faith. You can’t argue someone into faith. You can’t win someone’s heart by defeating them.

It’s a waste of time. You can’t debate someone into trusting you. You lost the minute you started arguing. You can’t logic someone into a relationship. We certainly can’t argue someone into the Kingdom of God. They’re no more likely to listen to you than you are to listen to them. When we get defensive, when we feel attacked, our brains lock the doors and pull down the steel shutters.

So how do we share our faith with people who just want to argue?

Well, there’s one thing people can’t really argue with. Forget your theological treatise or political defense theories. The thing they can’t really argue with is a story. Specifically, your story. When you just say, "This is who I was, and this is what happened, and this is who I am now, and the difference is Jesus" —that takes all the air out of it. No one can argue with your experience.

But our culture is utterly obsessed with winning arguments. We scream across political divides, we slam people in comment sections, and unfortunately, we bring that same attitude to our faith. We treat evangelism like we’re trying to win a court case, or a cage match. Like if we just have a clever enough comeback, an undeniable moral critique, or chapter and verse theological proof, people will be left speechless, drop to their knees and repent. But I think we all know that never happens.

So after we crash and burn a few times trying to share our faith, what do most of us do instead? 

We just avoid talking about Jesus completely. We don’t want to lose again. We’re scared of being put on the spot. Afraid we won't have the answers. Like, What if they ask me about carbon dating? Or dinosaurs? What if they bring up some tricky passage in Leviticus? What if they start talking about some weird historical Bible code thing? We don’t want to look stupid, so we stay silent. Hide our faith behind small talk, save our Jesus conversations for church.

But out in the world, the rest of our life, where people desperately need to hear about the hope we have in Jesus—even though they have no idea that’s what they need—when we're facing a culture that is hostile, angry, and absolutely tired of hypocrisy… we forget the most powerful tool God has given us isn't our ability to point out everybody else's sin. It’s not fixing cultural problems with a sermon from on top of our soapbox. The most powerful tool we have is our story. The simple, honest, vulnerable story of what Jesus has done for us and what He means to us.

We’re going through the Book of Acts line by line and today our passage drops us right into the middle of a powder keg in Jerusalem. Paul has just returned from his missionary journeys across the Gentile world, the Holy Spirit told him to go to Jerusalem, that it wasn’t going to be easy, and now here he is.

Acts 21:17 says,

“When we arrived in Jerusalem, the brothers and sisters welcomed us warmly. The next day Paul went with us to meet with James, and all the elders of the Jerusalem church were present. After greeting them, Paul gave a detailed report of everything God had accomplished among the Gentiles through his ministry. After hearing this, they praised God.”

Such a nice welcome! What were all those warnings about anyway? James, the brother of Jesus, is leading the Jerusalem church with the local elders. They’re glad to see Paul again. He brings a great report and it’s hugs and smiles all around. For about five minutes.

Acts 21:20 says,

“And then they said, ‘You know, dear brother, how many thousands of Jews have also believed, and they all follow the law of Moses very seriously. But they have been told that you are teaching all the Jews who live among the Gentiles to turn their backs on the laws of Moses. They’ve heard that you teach them not to circumcise their children or follow Jewish customs. What should we do? They will certainly hear that you have come. Here’s what we want you to do. We have four men here who have completed their vow. Go with them to the Temple and join them in the purification ceremony, paying for them to have their heads shaved. Then everyone will know that the rumors are false and that you yourself observe the Jewish laws. As for the Gentile believers, they should do what we already wrote to them: They should not eat food offered to idols, nor consume blood or the meat from strangled animals, and they should stay away from sexual immorality.’”

They’re like, “That all sounds great Paul, but a bunch of the Jewish Christians in Jerusalem think you’ve abandoned the faith.” It wasn’t entirely true. Paul was fine with Jewish believers keeping their customs if they wanted to; as long as they didn’t insist the Gentiles had to act Jewish to follow Jesus. The Jewish Christians in Jerusalem were not pleased with what they had heard about Paul’s teaching. So, to calm everyone down, James has a clever idea: He wants Paul to go with four local men completing a Nazirite vow at the temple, do the whole purification ritual, and have Paul pay for their expenses. I’m actually surprised he agreed to do it, but he did.

Acts 21:26 says,

“So Paul went with them the next day and was purified with them. Then he went to the Temple to give notice of when the purification period would end and the offering would be made for each of them. The seven days were almost ended when some Jews from the province of Asia saw Paul in the Temple and roused a mob against him. They grabbed him, yelling, ‘Men of Israel, help us! This is the man who teaches against our people and tells everyone to disobey the Jewish laws. He even speaks against the Temple and defiles it by bringing Gentiles in!’ (They had previously seen Trophimus, a Gentile from Ephesus, with Paul in the city, and they assumed Paul had brought him into the Temple.) The whole city was rocked by this accusation, and a great riot broke out. The people grabbed Paul and dragged him out of the Temple, and immediately the gates were closed behind him.”

So much for Jame’s clever plan! Paul was only at the Temple to show respect for his Jewish traditions. But some unbelieving Jews from Asia recognized him from Ephesus, assumed he brought a Gentile past the wall where only Jews could go, and started a riot. An angry mob grabbed him and dragged him into the streets!

Acts 21:31 says,

“As they were trying to kill him, word reached the commander of the Roman regiment that all Jerusalem was in an uproar. He immediately called out his soldiers and officers and ran down among the crowd. When the mob saw the commander and the troops coming, they stopped beating Paul. Then the commander arrested him and ordered him bound with two chains. He asked the crowd who he was and what he had done. Some shouted one thing and some another. Since he couldn’t find out the truth in all the uproar and confusion, he ordered that Paul be taken to the fortress. As Paul reached the stairs, the mob became so violent the soldiers had to carry him. A huge crowd followed behind them, shouting, ‘Kill him! Kill him!’”

Somebody called the cops. They show up while the mob is still beating Paul to death. They arrest the guy who’s being attacked and put him in chains. They carry Paul up the stairs to keep the crazy people from murdering him in the street!

Acts 21:37 says,

“As Paul was about to be taken inside, he said to the commander, ‘May I have a word with you?’ ‘Do you know Greek?’ the commander asked, surprised. ‘Aren’t you the Egyptian who led a rebellion some time ago and took four thousand members of the Assassins out into the wilderness?’ ‘No,’ Paul replied, ‘I am a Jew and a citizen of Tarsus in Cilicia, which is an important city. Please, let me talk to these people.’ The commander agreed, so Paul stood on the stairs and motioned to the people to be quiet. Soon a deep silence fell over the crowd, and he addressed them in Aramaic.”

The Commander thought he was a well known revolutionary called The Egyptian. Nope. He asks for permission to speak to the mob that wants him dead. What do you think Paul is going to say to them? Wouldn’t you think he’d give a brief history of Judaism, like Peter did on the Day of Pentecost? Correct their theology? Show them how they were mistaken about him? That’s what I would have expected him to do. Not what he did, though…

Acts 22:1 says,

“‘Brothers and esteemed fathers,’ Paul said, ‘listen to the defense I am presenting to you.’ When they heard him speaking in their own language, the silence was even greater. Then Paul said, ‘I am a Jew, born in Tarsus, a city in Cilicia, and I was brought up and educated here in Jerusalem under Gamaliel. At his feet I was thoroughly trained in our law and customs. I became just as zealous for God as any of you are today.’”

They’re surprised Paul speaks to them in Aramaic—the everyday language of the Hebrew people, the same language Jesus and the apostles spoke. It lowers their defenses a little and they get quiet. Then he starts telling his story: he studied under Gamaliel! Gamaliel was an unusual rabbi for his time. He didn't just teach his students the Torah; he also taught them Greek philosophy, literature, and rhetoric. That means Paul had the scriptural foundation to speak to devout Jews, but he also had the classical Greek education needed to talk with Gentile intellectuals across the empire. Kinda like God was preparing Paul all along, huh?

So, Paul tells them he’s as much of a Jew as any of them. And when he first heard about all these Christians, he hated them as much as they did… 

Acts 22:4 says,

“And I persecuted the followers of the Way, hounding some to death, arresting both men and women and throwing them into prison. The high priest and the whole council of elders can testify to this. For I received letters from them to our Jewish brothers in Damascus, authorizing me to bring the Christians from there to Jerusalem in chains to be punished. As I was on the road, approaching Damascus about noon, a very bright light from heaven suddenly shone down around me. I fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to me, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?’ ‘Who are you, Lord?’ I asked. And he replied, ‘I am Jesus the Nazarene, the one you are persecuting.’”

Christianity was called The Way back then because it wasn't just what they believed, it was an entire way of life following Jesus. Paul’s trying to connect with the murderous mob—like, “I used to be a blood thirsty Christian killer, too! Just like you guys!” But a funny thing happened on my way to Damascus to round up more Christians…

Notice what Jesus asks him, "Why are you persecuting Me?" That’s a weird question, Paul didn’t do anything to Jesus, he was hunting down and killing Christians, but what does that have to do with Jesus? Well, Jesus identifies so intimately with His followers that hurting them is the same as hurting Him. Scripture even calls the church "His body." That’s a massive warning for us: we can’t hate, reject, or abandon the church and claim we still love and follow Jesus. To reject His body is to reject Him.

Paul keeps going, and they keep listening:

Acts 22:9 says,

“The people with me saw the light but didn’t understand the voice speaking to me. I asked, ‘What should I do, Lord?’ And the Lord told me, ‘Get up and go into Damascus, and there you will be told all you have been appointed to do.’ I was blinded by the intense light and had to be led by the hand into Damascus by my companions. A man named Ananias lived there. He was a godly man, deeply devoted to the law, and well regarded by all the Jews of Damascus. He came and stood beside me and said, ‘Brother Saul, regain your sight.’ And that very moment I could see him! Then he told me, ‘The God of our ancestors has chosen you to know his will and to see the Righteous One and hear him speak. For you are to be his witness, telling everyone what you have seen and heard. What are you waiting for? Get up and be baptized and have your sins washed away, calling on his name.’”

Jesus appeared with a light so bright Paul was blinded. He had to be led by the hand the rest of the way into town. There he meets a Christian named Ananias who heals his blindness and says something kinda strange… "Get up and be baptized and have your sins washed away..."

Interesting, right? This is one of the reasons we believe Baptism isn't just a symbolic public gesture or a work we perform for God. It’s not just a profession of our faith. We believe it actually does something. It’s a means of grace! It’s God actually doing something—washing away sin and pouring out His grace through His Word combined with the water.

Then Paul tells them about the next time he saw Jesus…

Acts 22:17 says,

“After I returned to Jerusalem, I was praying in the Temple and fell into a trance. I saw a vision of Jesus saying to me, ‘Hurry! Leave Jerusalem, for the people here won’t accept your testimony about me.’ ‘But Lord,’ I argued, ‘they certainly know that in every synagogue I imprisoned and beat those who believed in you. And when the blood of your witness Stephen was spilled, I was standing there agreeing to it, holding the coats of the men who were killing him.’ But the Lord said to me, ‘Go, for I will send you far away to the Gentiles!’” The crowd listened to Paul until he said this. Then they raised their voices and shouted, "Rid the earth of him! He’s not fit to live!" As they were shouting and throwing off their cloaks and flinging dust into the air, the commander ordered that Paul be taken into the fortress.

So, Jesus appears again to Paul in Jerusalem, tells him what he wants him to do, and Paul pushes back! He argues with Jesus: "No, Lord, I can’t do that. I'm not worthy! Everyone knows I hunted and killed Christians! I'm disqualified!" But Jesus doesn't want to hear it. He tells him to go anyway. God's grace overrides Paul's past, sending him to the Gentiles. A job Paul was uniquely built for this job—not only because of his Gamaliel education, but as we'll see next week, because he held Roman citizenship by birth!

They had been listening up to this point but then Paul says something that ruins the moment. They had stayed quiet and tracked with the story up until he brought up the Gentiles again.

They were triggered. They listened quietly while Paul shared his story. They didn't lose their minds when he said Jesus appeared to him, or spoke to him, when his blindness was healed, or even when he talked about Baptism for the forgiveness of sins. But they lost their ever-loving minds the second he said salvation was being offered to the Gentiles—to the outsiders they despised.

That’s the raw, ugly truth of human nature. We love the idea of God’s mercy when it applies to us, but when that same mercy is offered to someone we can’t stand—for whatever reason—we don’t like it. God can’t love them, they’re not one of us.

We build little fortresses out of our ideas of moral purity, our traditions, and our theological correctness. We use faith as a prideful weapon to feel superior to all the pagans. And when grace threatens to tear down the walls we built to keep outsiders out—we get angry. We get self-righteous. We get defensive. 

But it’s a bunch of self-righteous garbage. At the root, all this defensive rage isn't about protecting God or His holiness—it’s about protecting ourselves. Protecting our little kingdom where we get to be the righteous ones and everyone else is what’s wrong with the world. We want God to validate us and our tribe, agree with our politics, and punish our enemies. The problem isn't caring about truth, doctrine, or holiness. Those are all good things. The problem is using those good things to convince ourselves that we deserve God's grace more than somebody else. We don’t want a God who saves sinners unconditionally. We don’t want a God who invites the outsider, and the hypocrite to sit at the same table as us. That God offends our self-righteous pride.

We wonder why it’s hard to share the Gospel but we’ve definitely given the world good reasons to not listen to us. For too long the only thing they’ve heard us say is, “You’re going to hell because you’re a sinner.” We try to tell their story for them, and we make it sound like a nightmare, instead of just telling them ours.

Like, “I’m a sinner. My life was a hopeless mess until Jesus. He’s the only difference.”

Luke’s making it pretty obvious what it looks like to follow Jesus. Everyone who follows Jesus, follows Him to a cross of some kind.

Paul’s story should sound familiar. It’s the same road Jesus walked. Jesus was dragged out of the holy city, surrounded by an angry mob drummed up by religious zealots. He stood before Roman officials while a mob yelled for His death.

Jesus was condemned, and led outside the city gates to be executed—not because He had broken the Law, but because He came to tear down the walls between God and man.

Jesus didn't come to just show us a better way to live. He came to take the place of the sinners—including that mob, including Paul, including us. On the cross, Jesus took the full weight of the Law’s judgment against our tribalism, our defensiveness, and our pride. He died so people like us—self-righteous hypocrites, angry haters, and defensive arguers—could be washed clean and forgiven.

Which means we’re all a picture of grace, just like Paul. Just like he used to be the guy leading the mob trying to destroy the church! If anyone deserved to be written off as a lost cause, it was Paul.

But Jesus didn't strike Paul dead on the road to Damascus. Jesus didn't come to destroy His enemies. He meets them in the dirt, forgives them, calls them by name, and Baptizes them, washes every sin away and makes them friends.

It’s the same way Jesus meets you today. He doesn't demand that you clean up your act first, or win the argument, or prove you’re worthy to be saved before He saves you. His blood already paid for every time you weaponized your faith, every time you let self-righteousness drive your heart, and every time you shut the door on someone else because they were different than you. On the cross, Christ finished it. Your standing with God doesn't depend on your performance or your ability to be holy or defend yourself—it rests entirely on Jesus who died for His enemies including you.

So this is your story now.

Because Jesus has freed you from the exhausting need to prove your own righteousness, you don't have to be so defensive all the time. The pressure’s off you!

So, you can drop the arguments. You can stop trying to debate people into believing in Jesus. There is a place for answering questions and defending what we believe. But an unbelieving neighbor isn't a theological opponent we're supposed to defeat. 

So, out in the world, when we’re talking to our neighbors, our coworkers, our family members, the people who don't know Jesus—we need to put down the torches. We don't need to act like a prosecutor pointing out their sin. That’s not where grace begins. We don't need to be experts in systematic theology. We just need to tell our story. It’s the most powerful tool we’ve got.

Tell them who we are, who we were. Tell them how broken, anxious, and self-righteous we were before Christ found us. Tell them what Jesus means to us on a random Tuesday morning when life feels like it’s falling apart. Talk about how His grace sustains us when we mess up. No one can argue with our experience. When we just point to what Jesus has done in our life, we’re using the same tool Paul used to quiet the angry mob.

And we need to search our hearts for hidden boundary lines. Ask Who do I secretly think is beyond the reach of God’s grace? Who pushes my buttons so hard I kind of hope God doesn’t save them? Whose sin is so gross to me I don’t want anything to do with them? When we find those people in our mind, we need to repent. We need to remember that we were once far off, an outsider, and a rebel—and Jesus found us and welcomed us anyway. So we need to go out of our way to show Christlike hospitality to people who don't look like us, or think like us, or act like us. Without arguing with them.

I still want to win arguments. The urge to be right, to lay out the evidence, to prove my point, and to force someone into a corner is never going away.

But thinking about Paul standing on those Roman steps—he shows us a better way. They listened to his story. They heard about Jesus. But he didn’t ultimately win the crowd over. It didn’t end well. The story ends with him still in chains. But it was a victory. He stood in front of a wall of human hatred and told them about the One who met him on the road to Damascus. He lowered his defenses and just told his story.

That’s what we all need to be doing every chance we get. Tell the truth about who you used to be. Tell the truth about who you are now. Tell the truth about how His grace meets you every day, when you fail and need mercy again. No one can argue with your story.  "This is who I was, this is what happened, but this is who I am now, and the difference is Jesus." AMEN.