Standing in chains before a room of dignitaries in Caesarea, the apostle Paul did not plead for his life; he preached for their souls. Granted permission to speak by King Agrippa, he traced the story of God’s faithfulness—from the promise made to the fathers, to the risen Messiah, to his own commission to carry the message “to his own people and to the Gentiles” (Acts 26:23). The hearing was arranged to clarify charges, but Paul turned it into a testimony, anchoring his defense in Scripture and the resurrection, and pressing the claim of Christ upon a king who knew the prophets (Acts 25:25–27; Acts 26:26–27).
This moment matters for the storyline of Acts and for the present age. It shows the gospel moving from synagogue to palace, from Judea’s courts to Rome’s corridors, fulfilling the word that Paul would “bear my name before the Gentiles and their kings and before the people of Israel” (Acts 9:15). It also unveils the pattern Luke has traced all along: to the Jew first in witness, then to the nations in widening circles, as some believe and others harden their hearts (Acts 13:46–48; Acts 28:24–28).
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Historical and Cultural Background
Paul had been held in Caesarea for more than two years after a plot in Jerusalem made a fair hearing impossible, and Roman custody became a strange shelter for his mission (Acts 23:12–24; Acts 24:27). Felix, the previous governor, left him bound, “hoping that Paul would offer him a bribe,” and yet hearing him speak often “about righteousness, self-control and the judgment to come” until he was afraid (Acts 24:25–27). Festus succeeded Felix, eager to ingratiate himself with the leaders in Jerusalem, but he confessed that the dispute centered not on crimes but on “a dead man named Jesus whom Paul claimed was alive” (Acts 25:18–19). When Paul appealed to Caesar, Festus found himself with a prisoner bound for Rome and a letter to write, but without a charge that made sense under Roman law (Acts 25:11; Acts 25:26–27).
Into this dilemma walked Herodian royalty. King Agrippa II, educated in Jewish law and entrusted by Rome with oversight of the temple’s affairs, came with his sister Bernice to pay respects to the new governor (Acts 25:13). Festus asked Agrippa to hear Paul, hoping that the king’s familiarity with “customs and controversies of the Jews” would help him frame the case (Acts 26:3). The scene carried the weight of ceremony and spectacle: the king and Bernice entered with “great pomp,” along with “the high-ranking military officers and the prominent men of the city,” and Paul, in chains, was brought in (Acts 25:23). Yet the gospel does not bend before pageantry; it looks kings in the eye and speaks the truth in love (Acts 26:25–29).
The setting also fulfilled a word spoken at the beginning of Paul’s discipleship. When the Lord sent Ananias to the blinded persecutor, He said, “This man is my chosen instrument to proclaim my name to the Gentiles and their kings and to the people of Israel,” and He added, “I will show him how much he must suffer for my name” (Acts 9:15–16). Before Agrippa, both strands are visible: a royal audience and a suffering witness, joined in one vocation.
Biblical Narrative
Paul began with respect and clarity. Stretching out his hand, he expressed gratitude to speak before one who “is well acquainted with all the Jewish customs and controversies,” and he asked for patient hearing while he set out his case (Acts 26:2–3). He reminded the room that his life from youth was known among his own nation, that he had lived “according to the strictest sect of our religion, a Pharisee,” and that the real issue was his hope “in what God has promised our ancestors,” the very hope for which “our twelve tribes are hoping to see its fulfillment” as they serve God day and night (Acts 26:4–7). He pressed the question that stands at the heart of every debate about Jesus: “Why should any of you consider it incredible that God raises the dead?” (Acts 26:8).
He did not varnish his past. “I too was convinced that I ought to do all that was possible to oppose the name of Jesus of Nazareth,” he said, recounting how he imprisoned believers, voted against them when they were put to death, punished them in synagogues to force blasphemy, and pursued them even to foreign cities (Acts 26:9–11). The persecutor’s zeal framed the miracle of grace that followed.
“On one of these journeys I was going to Damascus with the authority and commission of the chief priests,” he said, “About noon, King Agrippa, as I was on the road, I saw a light from heaven, brighter than the sun, blazing around me and my companions” (Acts 26:12–13). They fell to the ground, and a voice spoke “in Aramaic, ‘Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? It is hard for you to kick against the goads’” (Acts 26:14). When he asked who was speaking, the answer named the Lord whom he had opposed: “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting” (Acts 26:15). The risen Christ then appointed him: “Now get up and stand on your feet. I have appeared to you to appoint you as a servant and as a witness of what you have seen and will see of me” (Acts 26:16). The commission reached beyond Judea: “I am sending you to them to open their eyes and turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God,” so that they “may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me” (Acts 26:17–18).
Paul’s obedience was immediate and lifelong. “So then, King Agrippa, I was not disobedient to the vision from heaven,” but preached first in Damascus, then in Jerusalem and all Judea, and then to the Gentiles, “that they should repent and turn to God and demonstrate their repentance by their deeds” (Acts 26:19–20). His message was nothing new in substance: “I am saying nothing beyond what the prophets and Moses said would happen—that the Messiah would suffer and, as the first to rise from the dead, would bring the message of light to his own people and to the Gentiles” (Acts 26:22–23; Luke 24:26–27).
Festus could not contain himself. With a loud voice he said, “You are out of your mind, Paul! Your great learning is driving you insane” (Acts 26:24). Paul answered calmly that he spoke “words of truth and soberness,” pointing to Agrippa’s knowledge of these events, “for this was not done in a corner” (Acts 26:25–26). Then he turned and pressed the king’s conscience: “King Agrippa, do you believe the prophets? I know you do” (Acts 26:27). Agrippa deflected with a question that still echoes in hearing rooms and hearts: “Do you think that in such a short time you can persuade me to be a Christian?” (Acts 26:28). Paul’s reply was the heart of a pastor in chains: “Short time or long—I pray to God that not only you but all who are listening to me today may become what I am, except for these chains” (Acts 26:29).
The hearing ended with private conclusions that matched Paul’s public claim. Agrippa said to Festus, “This man could have been set free if he had not appealed to Caesar,” acknowledging innocence even as providence kept Paul on the road to Rome, where the witness would continue “without hindrance” (Acts 26:32; Acts 28:31).
Theological Significance
Paul’s testimony before Agrippa crystallizes the gospel’s substance and scope. At its core stands the crucified and risen Messiah, promised in the Law and the Prophets, “that the Messiah would suffer and, as the first to rise from the dead, would bring the message of light” (Acts 26:22–23; Isaiah 53:5–6). The resurrection, which Festus found incredible, is the hinge of hope, for “if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile,” but “Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep” (1 Corinthians 15:17, 20). To question whether God can raise the dead is to forget that He “gives life to the dead and calls into being things that were not” (Romans 4:17).
The scope of the message is equally clear. The Servant of the Lord was appointed as “a light for the Gentiles, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth,” so that those who were far off would hear and live (Isaiah 49:6). Jesus signaled this breadth in His ministry, praising the faith of a centurion and granting a Syrophoenician woman’s plea, and He commissioned witnesses to go “to the ends of the earth” in the Spirit’s power (Matthew 8:10–13; Mark 7:26–29; Acts 1:8). In Paul’s call the promise becomes program: “I am sending you to them to open their eyes,” a mercy that reaches Jew and Gentile alike and creates one new people by faith (Acts 26:18; Ephesians 2:14–16).
Dispensational clarity protects both the continuity and the distinctions in this moment. The church is not Israel enlarged; it is a “mystery” now revealed, in which Gentiles “are heirs together with Israel, members together of one body, and sharers together in the promise in Christ Jesus” apart from the law (Ephesians 3:6). Yet this inclusion does not cancel Israel’s calling; it temporarily displaces national privilege in the proclamation, provoking Israel “to envy” while the gospel runs among the nations (Romans 11:11). The present “hardening in part” will not last forever; it will remain “until the full number of the Gentiles has come in,” and then “all Israel will be saved,” as the Deliverer turns ungodliness from Jacob, for “God’s gifts and his call are irrevocable” (Romans 11:25–29; Isaiah 59:20–21).
Paul’s appeal to Agrippa also illuminates the moral dynamics of hearing. The king knew the prophets, and Paul pressed that knowledge toward faith, for the Scriptures are able “to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus” (2 Timothy 3:15). Festus dismissed the message as madness, a reminder that the word of the cross sounds like folly to those who are perishing, “but to us who are being saved it is the power of God” (1 Corinthians 1:18). Agrippa hesitated; Paul prayed that hesitation into hope, testifying that the grace that found a persecutor can raise up a worshiper in any heart, “for Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst” (1 Timothy 1:15).
Finally, this scene links promise, proclamation, and providence. The promise was ancient—resurrection, forgiveness, light to the nations—“just as he promised long ago through his prophets in the Holy Scriptures” (Romans 1:2). The proclamation was bold—Scripture opened, Christ preached, consciences addressed—“so faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word about Christ” (Romans 10:17). The providence was precise—kings convened, a room assembled, a chain attached yet a door opened—so that the Lord’s servant would stand where God said he must stand, “for you must testify in Rome also” (Acts 23:11).
Spiritual Lessons and Application
Paul’s defense models a way of bearing witness that honors God and helps people. He speaks respectfully to authority yet refuses to flatter; he grounds his message in shared Scriptures, not in rhetoric alone; he confesses his sin without self-pity and magnifies grace without self-promotion; he seeks persuasion, not merely acquittal, praying that all who hear might become what he is in Christ, “except for these chains” (Acts 26:29). In a world wary of bold claims, he shows that courage and gentleness can coexist, as we “set apart Christ as Lord” in our hearts and give reasons “with gentleness and respect” (1 Peter 3:15).
His testimony also calls believers to live transparently. He does not hide his past, because the mercy of God shines brightest against the truth about ourselves. The church is a home for those who once opposed the Lord but now confess His name, for “if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come” (2 Corinthians 5:17). Sharing how Christ met us—whether in crisis or quiet—honors the God who opens eyes and turns hearts “from the power of Satan to God” (Acts 26:18).
A third lesson concerns our view of rulers and public life. Paul prayed for kings and addressed them with the gospel, believing that God “wants all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth,” and that salvation comes through “one mediator between God and mankind, the man Christ Jesus” (1 Timothy 2:1–6). We are called to the same posture: to intercede for those in high places, to honor the office while appealing to the person, and to remember that no title places anyone beyond the reach of grace.
We also learn to keep the resurrection central. Paul asked why it should be thought incredible that God raises the dead, because the entire Christian life hangs on that hope. When we speak to friends or strangers, we do not invite them into a philosophy but into fellowship with the living Christ, who “was delivered over to death for our sins and was raised to life for our justification” (Romans 4:25). That message loosens fear of death, strengthens endurance in suffering, and fills ordinary days with the power of a living Lord (Philippians 3:10–11).
Finally, Paul keeps urgency and patience together. Agrippa did not believe that day, but the seed was sown. Some conversions are sudden; many are slow. We pray “short time or long” for those we love and those we meet, knowing that the God who opened the eyes of a Pharisee on a dusty road can open any eyes He pleases, and that “the Lord’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance” (Acts 26:29; Romans 2:4). Our task is to speak faithfully; God’s work is to save powerfully.
Conclusion
Paul’s speech before King Agrippa is courtroom and cathedral in one. It vindicates a man and magnifies a Messiah, it satisfies a governor’s curiosity and confronts a king’s conscience, and it binds together the old promise and the new commission in a single thread of grace. Before a royal audience, Paul confesses that he preaches nothing beyond Moses and the prophets: the suffering and rising of the Christ, and the light that shines from Jerusalem to the nations (Acts 26:22–23). He calls a knowledgeable king to personal faith, because knowing the prophets is not the same as trusting the One they foretold (Acts 26:27–28). And he shows the church how to speak in every room—Scripture in hand, Christ at the center, resurrection as the banner, love as the motive, and hope as the aim (Acts 26:25; Acts 26:29).
In the providence of God, that day in Caesarea did not end with a conversion story, but neither did it end with silence. The word went on with Paul to Rome, and through Rome to the world, just as the Lord had said it would, “to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). The same Lord now entrusts that word to us. Short time or long, we pray and speak so that many may become what we are by grace—free in Christ, even if we should wear chains (Galatians 5:1; Acts 26:29).
“I am saying nothing beyond what the prophets and Moses said would happen—that the Messiah would suffer and, as the first to rise from the dead, would bring the message of light to his own people and to the Gentiles.” (Acts 26:22–23)
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