What follows is taken from a descriptive account of the apostle Paul’s ministry in the city of Philippi, recorded in Acts 16.6-40.[1] We pick up with the angry activity of the masters of a young slave girl just delivered from the bondage of demon possession by Paul:
They hurried Paul and Silas to the forum, raised a tumult against them, first as Jews, and then as religious innovators. Toleration was not known to the Roman law, though it was sometimes practised. Thus Judaism was allowed, but proselytism forbidden. It was, as Livy tells us, one of the laws of the Twelve Tables – the great Roman Charter – “Let none have gods apart, neither let new or strange gods be privately worshipped unless publicly received.” The “masters” had become suddenly conscientious in defence of the old established faith. Not that they cared in truth for any altar; their motive was pelf and not piety; and having so strangely lost one source of wealth, under the plea of religion they thirsted for vengeance. The bench yielded to the clamour, and the clothes of the preachers being torn off them by the lictors, they were scourged, not as under Jewish law, by which the castigation was inflicted by thongs, and limited to stripes ” forty save one,” but ” many stripes” inflicted by rods were laid upon them. With their backs unwashed, and their wounds bleeding, were they thrust “into the inner prison;” and, to augment the torture, the raw and quivering flesh was further bruised, jagged, and irritated by the friction and the unnatural posture, for “their feet were made fast in the stocks.” But their courage did not fail them. On losing a battle in that neighbourhood, Cassius, “the last of the Romans,” hid himself in his tent, and bade his freedman strike, while Brutus, in his sullen desperation, fell upon his sword. But, so far from drooping and murmuring, and calling God to account, who had beckoned them to Europe, and yet had permitted them to be so “shamefully entreated;” so far from resolving to desert a Master who had not protected them, or deeming the vision at Troas a lure to draw them on to stripes and a dungeon, Paul and Silas” prayed, and not only poured out their hearts in supplication, but “sang praises unto God,” and that in no whispered melody, for ” the prisoners heard them.” Peter slept soundly in prison “between two soldiers, bound with two chains,” and that on the eve of expected martyrdom; for Herod was “intending after Easter to bring him forth to the people.” There was more peace in Paul’s heart than in that of the damsel’s masters who were cursing their loss; more than in the hearts of the praetors who had caused him to be scourged, for it is plain by their conduct on the following day, that their minds were uneasy as to their rash and cruel procedure. A Hebrew melody was chanted in that inner prison at the dead hour of night. The sleep of the prisoners had been often broken by oaths, groans, and terrible noises; but that hymn, falling and swelling with its strange music and foreign words, produced a profound sensation. And as the prisoners heard – were listening, to the song as its dying cadence was echoing through the vaults and corridors, the edifice was shaken, the massive doors were opened, and “everyone’s bands were loosed.” The concussion awoke the jailor, who staring around him in consternation, and guessing the result, would have committed suicide – a miserable but common Roman refuge. Paul prevented so insane an act, and the keeper, with a light in his hand, “sprang in” to the cell of the apostle, and, in an agony of alarm, cried – “What must I do to be saved?” Self-murder was often eulogized by Roman sages, and had been practised by not a few of them. The jailor would have reckoned it a less disgrace to die by his own hand than by a military execution. But his hand was arrested by the apostle’s abrupt command – “the life that now is” was prolonged, that he might be soon put in possession of the life “that is to come.”
“What must I do to be saved?” was his exclamation; and it shows that he was no stranger to the general lesson of the apostle’s preaching. Like the fortune-telling demoniac, he had heard the word “salvation.” He knew that Paul proclaimed this, and, terror-stricken by the phenomenon which had happened – ay, and convinced by it, that a supernatural power guarded the two prisoners, he eagerly demanded how it could be got by him. It was the best thing for him as he now imagined, but how was he to attain it? He might previously have laughed at the term, but he had caught some idea of what it meant. It was a blessing which he had not, and now his soul was on fire to have it. Did he deem that he was unworthy of it – that his conduct yesterday to its preachers excluded him from it? Must there be some other path for him than that which the Jewish stranger ordinarily pointed out? I know what is presented to others, but as for me, so cruel and guilty – as for me, who have acted savagely to the strangers – “What must I do to be saved?”
“What must I do to be saved?” The response – the immediate and unhesitating response – was – “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.” A true reply. If a man wishes salvation, let him accept the Saviour. If he will have the gift, let him confide in the giver. Can he have redemption, and yet reject Him who wrought it out? Can he be taken out of the pit, and yet spurn from him the arm that alone can lift him?
“What must I do to be saved?” Believe on Him who provided and who bestows this salvation. This is the only effectual process. He is able and He is willing. The lash on the back of Paul and Silas may have cut their skin into ribands, and the jailor did not dress their wounds; he put them in the inner prison, and by a refinement of cruelty locked them in the stocks; his office in a Roman jail was one which few could discharge without misgiving, for torture and outrage were often resorted to; and yet let him, even him, but believe, and the coveted blessing would without doubt be conferred upon him. Yes, let a man’s station be what it may, his position what it may, his past life what it may, he is not placed beyond the pale of this salvation. He is welcome, and he is warranted to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ. It is not the idea of belief, nor the desire of it, nor the hope of it, but actual belief itself, which secures salvation. One may not be able to analyze it, far less to define it; he may not discover its adaptation, nor understand why it should be selected as the means of safety; yet he may possess it, and enjoy all the fruits of the possession. The Lord Jesus Christ is so exhibited in power, truth, and love, that they who see Him may be attracted to believe on Him; the Lord – Governor – on the throne, because He died on the cross; Jesus – the Saviour, His name taken from his work; Christ – the Anointed One, commissioned to redeem humanity, and qualified for the great enterprise by the unction of the Holy Spirit. What can keep us back from faith in Him? Has not He the arm of God and the sympathy of a brother? Has He not given Himself to death, and what higher of attachment could He tender? Is He not anxious that His salvation be dispensed? He that provided it in His blood, He it is that rejoices to confer it. Are not all those invitations and promises sealed in His blood? Are they true, then, or are they false? Yea or nay? Let there be no ambiguity – decide. Is God duping you, that you refuse to trust him? Did anyone ever find it so? Why, then, be “slow of heart” to believe? “Be not faithless, but believing;” yea, let the individual response be – “Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief.”
“What must I do to be saved?” Believe, and salvation is obtained in its fulness – not a segment of it, as if its perfect fruition depended on some other grace. The state of salvation is attached to faith and every blessing connected with it. There is pardon – we are “justified by faith;” there is acceptance, for “faith is counted for righteousness;” and there is also perseverance, for we are “kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation.” Belief gives sweep and power to prayer. “Whatsoever ye ask, believing, ye shall receive;” and He is “able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think.” The possessor of faith enters into God’s family; for “as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God.” He has tranquillity of soul; for “we which believe do enter into rest;” and he has a growing purity; for he is “among them which are sanctified by faith that is in Christ.” There is guidance, for “we walk by faith;” and life, too, “for the just live by faith;” and triumph also, “for this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith.” There is, in conclusion, a chartered fulness of gift – “Blessed is she that believed, for there shall be a performance of those things which were told her from the Lord.” And thus it is that “the end of your faith is the salvation of your souls.”
“What must I do to be saved?” Believe, and salvation is certain. It is not believe and you may be saved, or there is a chance or even a probability of salvation. The result is immediate. Not at some distant day, or when you come to die; but at this moment faith possessed is safety enjoyed. To say, Believe, and thou shalt be saved, is equivalent to saying, Take it and you have it. Guilt is cancelled, and the Spirit descends into the soul. “He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life” – “is passed from death into life.” Not only do believers possess salvation, but they are conscious of it: “being justified by faith, we have peace with God” – “by faith ye stand.” “He that believeth on the Son of God hath the witness in himself.” He is not told about safety only, but he enjoys it – he has experience of it. Tell the mother that her strayed child is safe, and she credits the statement; but let her clasp it to her bosom, and she has the witness in her rapture. Show a man the electric machine and describe its results to him, he does not deny them so far as he comprehends them; but let him feel the shock, and then he has the witness in every nerve as it tingles and vibrates. He that feels what peace is, what a changed heart is, what the spirit of adoption in prayer is, what advancing purity is, and what the hope of glory is; feels as well as knows, rejoices in the record, but also has experience of its truth and power.
If all depend on faith, it is a truism to say that the want of it must be fatal. Nay, to disbelieve God, is to call him a liar. Devils do not commit so insulting and flagrant a crime. They believe, and they tremble through their belief; they cannot sink into unbelief. But, alas! if a man wants faith, he wants every spiritual blessing; for God does not thrust His salvation on an insulting heart. O, then, give Him credit for what He has done, and take Him at His word for what He has said. And your faith rests on decisive evidence. There needs no great trial of it; it is not beset with obstacles. Abel believed, and acted out his belief, when the testimony was scanty and the ceremonial not very transparent. Enoch believed and maintained his faith, when faith seems to have fled the earth, and all around were “ungodly men,” full of “ungodly deeds” and “hard speeches” against God. Noah believed, and persisted in building the huge fabric from keel to deck, under a cloudless sky, and in a country which gave no token of earthquake and inundation. Abraham became an emigrant through faith, yea, went out under this lodestar, “not knowing whither he went.” Moses, with the eye of faith, saw “the reproach of Christ to be greater riches than the treasure of Egypt,” when the crown of the country might have devolved on him as the son of Pharaoh’s daughter. Joseph believed that his mummy should not lie in Egypt though laid up there, and “gave commandment concerning his bones,” at a time when Pharaoh was strong and his own people were but a handful. Job was smitten with terrible calamities, but his faith did not waver; and even when he contemplated the worst, he would not renounce it – “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.” In Christ’s days there were many external barriers to faith in the carpenter’s son, and yet many believed. The woman of Samaria accepted as Messiah the way-worn Jew who sat upon the well and asked for a draught of water. And though it was a Jew, one of a despised and obnoxious race, one who had been scourged and thrown into the inner prison by himself; though it was a poor, defenceless stranger, bruised, bleeding, pale, hungry, and ragged, who preached unto him Jesus – the jailor “believed, with all his house.” And if we have clearer evidence – no ambiguity or mystery; not types, but facts; not prophecies, but annals; if we are not summoned to do battle against appearances, and soar on strong pinions above what seems dark and hostile, as it mocks our heroism and brands our confidence as a mere romance at variance with all reality; if we have the gospels and the epistles, the church and the Spirit, all attesting our faith, the lives of so many to illustrate its powers, and the deaths of so many to show its triumphs – then, if we be faithless, we are surely without excuse, and our doom must be that of those of whom it is written – “They could not enter in because of unbelief.” “He that believeth not is condemned already” – “shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him.”
Paul’s further exposition is called speaking “the word of the Lord” – delivering the message of Jesus. It was a strange locality and an unusual hour; but the gospel triumphed. The terror of the night passed away, and joy came in the morning. The jailor was a new man; he led the apostles to his house, washed their stripes with all tenderness, was himself baptized, “set meat before them,” for evidently none had been given them previously; hunger, fasting, and cold had embittered their imprisonment.
[1] John Eadie, Paul the Preacher (Birmingham, AL: Solid Ground Christian Books, 2005), 148-156.
Posted by Jeremy Walker 