(Read Acts 24)
This chapter furnishes a very remarkable contrast between a genuine Christian man, and a man of the world — Paul, the prisoner, and Felix, the judge. They are brought face to face, and we are permitted to see, in the light of inspiration, the springs of action in the prisoner and in the judge. Paul’s eye was resting on the unseen and eternal; Felix’ eye was resting on the seen and temporal. Paul was standing in the light of heaven; Felix was involved in the darkness of earth. In a word, they present a vivid and instructive contrast, in every respect. Let us meditate, for a few moments, on the striking picture. On looking closely at it, we see, what we may venture to designate, the faith, hope, and practice of the two men. And, first, then, let us hear from the lips of Paul, the prisoner of Jesus Christ, a statement of his faith, his hope, and his practice.
1. “But this I confess unto thee, that after the way which they call heresy, so worship I the God of my fathers, believing all things which are written in the law and the prophets.” Here was Paul’s faith; “All things written in the law and the prophets.” A Christian man, now, has, as we know, a wider field, being able to add, “All things which are written in the New Testament.” This is the faith of a Christian man — the whole word of God — the undivided canon of inspiration. He wants nothing more; he can do with nothing less; he desires nothing different. “All scripture” is the creed of a Christian man; and, assuredly, it is amply sufficient. In it he finds his standard, his confession, his touchstone, his all. By it he can test himself and all around him — his own thoughts and the thoughts of his fellow men. Morals and doctrines can all be measured by this rule, and weighed in this balance. It is divinely sufficient for all ages and all nations. High and low, rich and poor, learned and ignorant, old and young, may find in the precious volume of God all they want. To say that we can ever stand in need of aught beside, is to cast dishonor upon that which our God has so graciously given.
2. And what was Paul’s hope? “And have hope toward God, which they themselves also allow, that there shall be a resurrection of the dead, both of the just and the unjust.” This is the hope of a Christian man — “hope toward God” — hope of resurrection. It is not toward man, nor has it reference to anything at this side of the grave. All earthly hopes and creature expectations vanish like the morning cloud. The stamp of death is on everything down here. The grave is the gloomy terminus of man’s history in this world. But, blessed be God, the hope of a Christian man carries him beyond the grave altogether, and connects him with those unseen and eternal realities which belong to him as risen with Christ. There is nothing down here worth hoping for. All is rapidly passing away. The chilling breath of mortality is continually passing across earth’s fairest scenes, and withering them up; and the fondest hopes we cherish, in reference to the creature, are sure to be most woefully disappointed. Paul was wise, therefore, when he said, “I have hope toward God.” Had it been otherwise, his lot would have been most miserable. He had reached the end of all that this world could offer; he had proved the hollowness of man’s fairest pretensions; what, therefore, remained for him, but to build all his hopes upon the One who quickeneth the dead — the living God — the God of resurrection. Thus much as to the hope of a genuine Christian man.
3. Finally, one word as to Paul’s practice. “And herein do I exercise myself, to have always a conscience void of offense toward God and men.” Such is the practice of a Christian man. May it be ours, from day to day, in all the scenes of life. May we be able to carry ourselves in such a way as to give no offense — no just occasion to man, and to keep a clear, an uncondemning conscience in the presence of God. We ought not to be satisfied with less than this. We may be misunderstood, we may do things ignorantly, make mistakes, and fail in many things; but at this we should ever earnestly and uprightly aim, to have a conscience void of offense toward God and man. It will, unquestionably, demand “exercise” — it cannot be reached without difficulty; but it should be diligently sought, for it is the practice of a Christian man.
Such, then, is the lovely picture presented in the person of Paul, the prisoner — the picture of a true, practical Christian. His faith reposing upon the revelation of God — his hope reaching forth after resurrection, and his practice characterized by earnest exercise to live a blameless and harmless life in the sight of God and man. God grant that we may know and exhibit these things in this day of so much empty profession!
2. We may now glance rapidly at the picture of a thorough man of the world. We shall not dwell upon it, but merely call the reader’s attention to its three prominent features.
1. As to what we may call the faith of the man of the world, the Spirit of God has given it to us in very forcible language, in the chapter before us. “And as Paul reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and of judgment to come, Felix trembled, and answered, Go thy way, for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee.” The faithful ambassador in bonds stood before the voluptuous governor, and thundered into his ear solemn and faithful accents concerning righteousness, temperance, and coming judgment — weighty themes! And as the prisoner spoke, the judge trembled. How unusual! It was something new — something quite the reverse of what is ordinarily witnessed in judgment halls. “Felix trembled.” Poor creature! Well might he tremble; and well would it have been if his trembling for himself had led to his trusting in Jesus. But, alas! he contented himself with the faith of a “more convenient season;” which, so far as the record informs us, never came. It is vain for a man to speak of a “more convenient season,” inasmuch as he is sure never to have it. There will ever be something occurring to hinder his looking seriously at the great question of his eternal destiny — something to render it inconvenient. He may “tremble” under some powerful appeal on the momentous subject of “judgment to come,” but the world, in its varied forms, will come in and render it an inconvenient season, and thus he goes on from day to day, and from year to year, until death comes and ushers him into that place of everlasting misery, “where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.” God’s time is now. “Now is the accepted time, behold, now is the day of salvation.” “Today, if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts.”
2. But look at Felix’ hope. “He hoped also that money should have been given him of Paul.” What a thought! Felix could send for Paul “often,” with the hope of getting money; but as to righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come he had no “convenient season” for them at all. What an unfolding of the hidden springs of action is here! What a development of the roots of things. Eternity put off — money diligently sought after! All seasons are “convenient” if there be a hope of money — no season is convenient if it be the fear of judgment to come.
3. And, now, one word as to Felix’ practice. “But after two years, Porcius Festus came into Felix’ room; and Felix, willing to show the Jews a pleasure, left Paul bound.” This completes the melancholy picture of a man of the world. His faith, “a convenient season,” which never came — His hope, “money,” which he never got — His practice, leaving a blameless man bound, to gain a little popularity. May the Spirit of God engrave upon our hearts the profitable lesson suggested by this graphic picture of Paul and Felix.