Commentary - Acts 7:54-60

Bird's-eye view

This passage records the brutal and chaotic conclusion to Stephen's masterful sermon before the Sanhedrin. Having systematically demonstrated from their own Scriptures that Israel's history was a long story of rejecting God's appointed deliverers, culminating in their murder of the Messiah, Stephen now brings the indictment to a piercing conclusion. The response of the council is not reasoned debate or thoughtful consideration, but a visceral, demonic rage. The contrast between the frenzied, hate-filled mob and the serene, Spirit-filled martyr could not be more stark. As the council loses all semblance of judicial process, Stephen is granted a glorious vision of the triumphant Christ, standing to receive him. His final words are not a curse upon his murderers but a prayer for their forgiveness, a prayer that would be answered stupendously in the conversion of the young man who was complicitly watching over the proceedings, Saul of Tarsus. This event marks a pivotal moment in the book of Acts; the first Christian martyrdom becomes the spark that ignites a great persecution, which in turn becomes the means by which the gospel is scattered from Jerusalem into the wider world.

Here we see the antithesis between two kingdoms in its rawest form. On the one hand, we have the kingdom of this world, represented by the highest religious authority of the Jews, which can only respond to the truth with gnashing teeth, stopped ears, and murderous violence. On the other hand, we see the kingdom of God, represented by a lone deacon, full of the Holy Spirit, whose gaze is fixed on the glory of God and whose heart is full of the grace of Christ. Stephen's death is not a defeat; it is a profound victory that echoes the death of his Master and sets the pattern for all subsequent martyrdom.

Outline

Context In Acts

Stephen's sermon and subsequent martyrdom in Acts 7 are the culmination of the conflict that has been brewing in Jerusalem since Pentecost. In the preceding chapters, the apostles have been arrested, threatened, and beaten by the same authorities (Acts 4:1-22; 5:17-42). But now the opposition escalates from threats to murder. Stephen, one of the seven men appointed to serve tables (Acts 6:1-6), had proven to be a powerful preacher and debater, refuting his opponents from the Hellenistic synagogues (Acts 6:9-10). Unable to answer his wisdom, they resorted to lies, stirring up the people and accusing him of blasphemy against Moses and the temple (Acts 6:11-14). His speech before the Sanhedrin is his legal defense, but it is more than that; it is a divine prosecution. He turns the tables on his accusers, showing that they are the true blasphemers, the ones who, like their fathers, always resist the Holy Spirit. This event marks the end of the initial phase of the church's witness, which was largely confined to Jerusalem. The "great persecution" that erupts following Stephen's death (Acts 8:1) is the very thing God uses to fulfill the commission of Acts 1:8, scattering the believers throughout Judea and Samaria, and from there, to the ends of the earth.

Key Issues

The First Taste of Blood

When men are confronted with the unvarnished truth of their sin, there are only two possible responses. The first is to be "cut to the heart" in a way that leads to repentance, as the crowd was at Pentecost (Acts 2:37). The second is to be "cut to the heart" in a way that leads to murderous rage, as the Sanhedrin is here. The Word of God is a sharp, two-edged sword, and it never returns void. It either brings life or it hardens in death. There is no middle ground, no polite neutrality. Stephen's sermon was a masterpiece of biblical theology, demonstrating that God's presence cannot be confined to a building and that Israel's leaders have a long and sordid history of rejecting God's messengers. This was not an insult; it was a diagnosis. And because they were uncircumcised in heart, they could not bear it. Their response is not that of judges weighing evidence, but of cornered animals lashing out. They gnash their teeth, a biblical image of impotent, hellish fury. This is what happens when the kingdom of darkness is confronted by the kingdom of light. It does not want to be exposed, and it will do anything to extinguish the light.

Verse by Verse Commentary

54 Now when they heard this, they became furious in their hearts, and they began gnashing their teeth at him.

The sermon hits its mark. The Greek says they were "cut to the heart," the same phrase used at Pentecost. But the result is entirely different. For the crowd at Pentecost, it led to the question, "What shall we do?" For the Sanhedrin, it leads to rage. The truth of God's Word does not produce a uniform response; it reveals the condition of the heart it strikes. These men, the spiritual leaders of Israel, are shown to have hearts of stone. Their reaction is primal, animalistic. The gnashing of teeth is what Jesus said would characterize the outer darkness of hell (Matt 8:12). In this moment, the council chamber becomes a little patch of hell on earth, filled with the fury of those who hate God and His truth.

55 But being full of the Holy Spirit, he gazed intently into heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God;

The contrast is absolute. While his accusers are filled with satanic rage, Stephen is full of the Holy Spirit. They are looking at him with murder in their eyes; he is looking past them, into heaven itself. What a glorious consolation God gives to His faithful servant in his final moments. He is granted a vision, not of angels or abstract light, but of the very glory of God. And at the center of that glory, he sees Jesus. But notice the posture. Throughout the New Testament, the ascended Christ is pictured as seated at the right hand of God, signifying that His work of atonement is finished (Heb 1:3, 10:12). But here, Stephen sees Him standing. It is as though the Lord has risen from His throne to act as a witness for His witness, to welcome His servant, and to receive the first martyr of the new covenant into glory. He is not a distant, dispassionate observer; He is the advocate, the host, the welcoming King.

56 and he said, “Behold, I see the heavens opened up and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.”

Stephen cannot keep this vision to himself. He becomes a witness to what he sees. His use of the title Son of Man is profoundly significant. This was Jesus' favorite self-designation, drawn from Daniel 7, where the Son of Man comes before the Ancient of Days to receive an everlasting kingdom. By using this title, Stephen is making a final, climactic declaration: the man you crucified is the divine figure of Daniel's prophecy, the ruler of all things. For the Sanhedrin, who had heard Jesus use this same title to claim authority at His own trial (Mark 14:62), this was the final blasphemy. He was claiming that the executed criminal was, in fact, the enthroned King. This testimony seals his fate.

57 But crying out with a loud voice, they covered their ears and rushed at him with one accord.

The response is a complete breakdown of order. This is no longer a court of law; it is a lynch mob. They cry out with a loud voice to drown out Stephen's testimony. They literally covered their ears, a childish and yet deeply symbolic act. They refuse to hear the truth. It is a physical manifestation of what Stephen had just accused them of: being uncircumcised in their ears (Acts 7:51). Their unity is not in the Spirit but in a shared, murderous frenzy. They rush at him as one man, their hatred having completely consumed them.

58 And when they had driven him out of the city, they began stoning him; and the witnesses laid aside their garments at the feet of a young man named Saul.

They drag him out of the city, which was in accordance with the law for stoning (Lev 24:14). But this is mob justice, not a legal execution. The key detail here is the introduction of a new character. The witnesses, who according to the law were to cast the first stones (Deut 17:7), lay their outer cloaks down for the sake of efficiency. And the one they entrust them to is a young man named Saul. He is not throwing stones, but he is more than a passive bystander. By guarding their garments, he is actively consenting to and participating in the murder. He is an accessory to the crime. Little did anyone know that the prayers of the man being murdered were about to claim the soul of the man holding the coats.

59 They went on stoning Stephen as he was calling out and saying, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit!”

As the stones are hitting him, Stephen is not cursing his killers. He is praying. And his prayer is directed explicitly to Jesus. This is a powerful, early testimony to the deity of Christ. Stephen entrusts his spirit, his very life, into the hands of the Lord Jesus, echoing the words of Jesus on the cross, who committed His spirit to the Father (Luke 23:46). Stephen knows where he is going. He is not dying into a void, but into the care of his standing, welcoming Savior.

60 Then falling on his knees, he cried out with a loud voice, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them!” And having said this, he fell asleep.

His final act is one of Christ-like forgiveness. He kneels, a posture of earnest prayer, and with a loud voice, so that all can hear, he prays for his murderers. This prayer is a direct echo of Christ's from the cross: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do" (Luke 23:34). It is a stunning display of supernatural grace. In the midst of agony and injustice, his concern is for the souls of his enemies. And this prayer was not ineffectual. Standing right there was Saul of Tarsus. God would answer Stephen's prayer by taking the chief sinner present at that murder and transforming him into the chief apostle. And then Luke, with beautiful and understated simplicity, says he fell asleep. For the believer, death has lost its sting. It is not a terrifying end, but a peaceful transition into the presence of the Lord, a sleep from which we will be gloriously awakened.

Application

The story of Stephen's martyrdom is a foundational text for the church. It teaches us, first, that there will be a fundamental and irreconcilable conflict between the Christian faith and a world that loves its sin. We should not be surprised when the faithful proclamation of the gospel is met not with applause but with hostility. The world hated Christ, and it will hate those who belong to Christ. Our task is not to soften the message to make it more palatable, but to speak the truth in love, full of the Holy Spirit, and leave the results to God.

Second, it shows us the pattern for facing such opposition. Stephen's strength did not come from within himself. He was full of the Spirit, and his eyes were fixed on the glory of the triumphant Christ. This is the only way to endure persecution. We must cultivate a heavenly gaze. We must be more impressed with the reality of Jesus standing at the right hand of God than we are with the threats of furious men gnashing their teeth. Our ultimate security is not on this earth, but is hidden with Christ in God.

Finally, Stephen's example commands us to love and pray for our enemies. This is not a sentimental suggestion; it is a radical command that lies at the heart of the gospel. The grace that can pray, "Lord, do not hold this sin against them," is the same grace that saves a wretch like Saul of Tarsus, and the same grace that saves wretches like us. We were all enemies of God, and Christ died for us. Therefore, we have no right to withhold forgiveness from those who wrong us. Stephen's prayer was answered. And when we pray for our enemies, we are participating in the very work of God, who delights in turning persecutors into preachers and murderers into missionaries.