A Dead Man Alive and Other Inconveniences
Introduction: The Gospel Before Governors
The world is run by important people who are entirely ignorant of the most important things. The machinery of state, the pomp of royalty, and the administration of justice all proceed as though the central question of human history is a minor footnote. Men in fine robes sit on judgment seats, discussing matters of state, while the King of the universe is treated as a peculiar religious obsession. This is the scene before us in Acts 25. The gospel of Jesus Christ has become an administrative problem for the Roman bureaucracy.
We have here a convergence of three distinct worlds. First, we have the world of Roman paganism, represented by the governor, Porcius Festus. He is a pragmatist, a bureaucrat. He is concerned with law, order, and keeping the peace in a troublesome province. He is not hostile to religion, so long as it stays in its lane and doesn't cause riots. Second, we have the world of corrupt, compromised Judaism, represented by King Agrippa and his sister-consort Bernice. They are Herodians, which is to say they are ethnically Jewish but culturally Roman and spiritually dead. They know the vocabulary of the faith but are strangers to its power. They treat religion as a matter of cultural heritage and political theater. And third, off-stage but dominating the entire conversation, is the world of the kingdom of God, represented by the apostle Paul. He is in chains, but he is the freest man in the room. He is the prisoner, but he is the one setting the agenda. He is the one on trial, but it is the empires of Rome and Jerusalem that are truly being judged.
This passage is a masterful depiction of God's sovereignty. God moves his apostle across the world stage, using the Roman legal system, the political anxieties of a governor, and the jaded curiosity of a puppet king to ensure that the gospel gets an audience with the powerful. Paul did not get this hearing by hiring a lobbyist. He got it by faithfully preaching the gospel, which landed him in jail, which led to an appeal, which has now brought him to the attention of the highest authorities in the land. This is how our God works. He uses the wrath and confusion of man to praise Him.
The Text
Now when several days had passed, King Agrippa and Bernice arrived at Caesarea and greeted Festus. And while they were spending many days there, Festus laid Paul’s case before the king, saying, “There is a man who was left as a prisoner by Felix; and when I was at Jerusalem, the chief priests and the elders of the Jews brought charges against him, asking for a sentence of condemnation against him. I answered them that it is not the custom of the Romans to hand over any man before the accused meets his accusers face to face and has an opportunity to make his defense against the charges. So after they had assembled here, I did not delay, but on the next day took my seat on the judgment seat and ordered the man to be brought before me. When the accusers stood up, they were not bringing any charges against him for the evil deeds I was expecting, but they had some points of disagreement with him about their own religion and about a certain Jesus, a dead man whom Paul asserted to be alive. And being perplexed about how to investigate such matters, I was asking whether he was willing to go to Jerusalem and there to be tried on these matters. But when Paul appealed to be held in custody for the Emperor’s decision, I ordered him to be kept in custody until I send him to Caesar.” Then Agrippa said to Festus, “I also would like to hear the man myself.” “Tomorrow,” he said, “you shall hear him.”
(Acts 25:13-22 LSB)
A Royal Visit and a Lingering Problem (vv. 13-15)
The story begins with a visit from royalty.
"Now when several days had passed, King Agrippa and Bernice arrived at Caesarea and greeted Festus. And while they were spending many days there, Festus laid Paul’s case before the king, saying, 'There is a man who was left as a prisoner by Felix; and when I was at Jerusalem, the chief priests and the elders of the Jews brought charges against him, asking for a sentence of condemnation against him.'" (Acts 25:13-15)
Agrippa and Bernice are the last of the Herods. They are the great-grandchildren of Herod the Great, the monster who tried to kill the infant Jesus. And to give you a sense of the moral climate, Bernice is not just Agrippa's sister; she is also his lover. They are the picture of decadent, worldly power. They are in Caesarea to pay a courtesy call on the new governor, Festus. It is all very civilized, very political.
After some days of pleasantries, Festus brings up an administrative problem he inherited from his predecessor, Felix. That problem has a name: Paul. Notice how Festus frames it. He is not seeking justice; he is seeking advice on how to handle a politically sensitive case. He tells Agrippa that the Jewish leadership, the chief priests and elders, came to him in Jerusalem demanding a "sentence of condemnation." They did not ask for a trial; they asked for a verdict. They wanted Paul dead, and they wanted Rome to do their dirty work. This is what happens when a religion loses its spiritual core. It becomes a political machine dedicated to preserving its own power, and it sees the true gospel as an existential threat.
The Annoyance of Roman Justice (vv. 16-17)
Festus then explains how he rebuffed the Jewish leaders by appealing to Roman legal principles.
"I answered them that it is not the custom of the Romans to hand over any man before the accused meets his accusers face to face and has an opportunity to make his defense against the charges. So after they had assembled here, I did not delay, but on the next day took my seat on the judgment seat and ordered the man to be brought before me." (Acts 25:16-17 LSB)
Here we see the restraining grace of God at work through a pagan institution. The Roman legal system, for all its brutality and corruption, had certain procedural safeguards. A man had the right to face his accusers. A man had the right to a defense. The Jews wanted to short-circuit this process. Festus, to his credit, insists on following the book. He is not doing this because he is a righteous man. He is doing it because he is a Roman official, and this is the proper procedure. He is a cog in a machine, but God is the one who designed the machine for His own purposes.
This is a standing rebuke to two errors. First, it rebukes the anarchist who sees all government as inherently evil. Second, it rebukes the pietist who thinks the church should have nothing to do with the secular legal system. God established the civil magistrate to punish evil and reward good (Romans 13). And when that magistrate, even imperfectly, upholds a standard of justice, it is a gift of God's common grace that protects the innocent and restrains the wicked. Paul would be dead in a ditch if it were not for the "custom of the Romans."
The Real Issue: A Dead Man Alive (vv. 18-19)
Now Festus gets to the heart of his confusion. The trial did not go as he expected.
"When the accusers stood up, they were not bringing any charges against him for the evil deeds I was expecting, but they had some points of disagreement with him about their own religion and about a certain Jesus, a dead man whom Paul asserted to be alive." (Acts 25:18-19 LSB)
This is a magnificent verse. Festus was expecting to hear charges of insurrection, treason, or murder. He was ready for a real criminal trial. Instead, he got a theological seminar. The charges were not about "evil deeds" but about "points of disagreement." The word he uses for religion is deisidaimonia, which can be translated as "superstition." To the pragmatic Roman mind, this was all just religious squabbling, internal Jewish nonsense.
But in his pagan ignorance, Festus stumbles upon the absolute center of everything. He boils the entire Christian faith down to its irreducible core: "about a certain Jesus, a dead man whom Paul asserted to be alive." That is it. That is the whole shooting match. Is Jesus a dead prophet, a failed revolutionary, a corpse in a tomb? Or is He alive, risen, and therefore Lord of heaven and earth? The world is perfectly happy for Jesus to be a good moral teacher. It will tolerate Jesus as a historical figure. It will even put up with Jesus as the founder of a "religion." But it cannot, and will not, tolerate a living Jesus who claims total authority over every aspect of life.
The resurrection is not an appendix to the gospel; it is the gospel. It is the divine vindication of Christ's person and work. It is the proof that His sacrifice was accepted, that sin was defeated, and that death has been conquered. If Christ is not raised, our faith is futile, and we are still in our sins (1 Cor. 15:17). Festus thinks this is a minor point of disagreement. Paul knows it is the hinge upon which all of history turns.
A Perplexed Bureaucrat and a Strategic Appeal (vv. 20-21)
Festus confesses his incompetence and recounts Paul's decisive action.
"And being perplexed about how to investigate such matters, I was asking whether he was willing to go to Jerusalem and there to be tried on these matters. But when Paul appealed to be held in custody for the Emperor’s decision, I ordered him to be kept in custody until I send him to Caesar." (Acts 25:20-21 LSB)
Festus is perplexed. How does a Roman court investigate a resurrection? What witnesses do you call? What evidence do you present? He is completely out of his depth, so he offers a political solution: move the trial to Jerusalem. This was not a genuine offer of justice. It was an attempt to appease the Jews and get this problem off his desk. Paul knew that a trial in Jerusalem, even with a Roman guard, would be a death sentence. The Sanhedrin would not be perplexed about how to investigate. They had already made up their minds.
So Paul plays his trump card. As a Roman citizen, he has the right to appeal his case directly to the emperor's court in Rome. "I appeal to Caesar." With those four words, Paul accomplishes several things at once. He checkmates the Jewish plot against his life. He forces the Roman state to protect him and transport him, at its own expense, to the heart of the empire. And he ensures that the gospel will get a hearing at the highest level of the known world. This was not an act of desperation. This was a Spirit-led, strategic masterstroke. Paul is using the tools of the empire to advance the kingdom of God.
The Curiosity of a King (v. 22)
The scene concludes with Agrippa's interest being piqued.
"Then Agrippa said to Festus, 'I also would like to hear the man myself.' 'Tomorrow,' he said, 'you shall hear him.'" (Acts 25:22 LSB)
Agrippa is intrigued. He is not seeking God. He is not wrestling with his sin. He is a jaded aristocrat looking for a diversion. This famous rabble-rouser, this man who has turned the Jewish world upside down over a dead carpenter, sounds like an interesting afternoon's entertainment. He wants to see the show. He has no idea that he is about to come face to face with the living God through the preaching of His apostle.
And Festus readily agrees. "Tomorrow, you shall hear him." God has now arranged another opportunity, another platform. Paul will stand before a Roman governor, a Jewish king, his incestuous sister, and the military and civic leaders of Caesarea, and he will do what he always does. He will preach Christ and Him crucified, and risen.
Conclusion: The Centrality of the Resurrection
This entire episode revolves around the question that Festus so artlessly articulated: is Jesus dead or alive? Our world is full of Festuses and Agrippas. They are perplexed by our faith. They see it as a private superstition, a set of beliefs that are fine as long as they don't cause any public disturbance. They are willing to discuss our "values" and our "spirituality." But they are deeply uncomfortable with our central claim.
We do not declare that Jesus was a good man who died. We declare that He is the God-man who died, was buried, and on the third day rose again from the dead. And because He is alive, He is Lord. He is not a candidate for Lord. He is not Lord-in-waiting. He is the reigning King of heaven and earth, and He commands all men everywhere to repent.
This claim cannot be managed as a political problem or enjoyed as a cultural spectacle. It demands a verdict. Is He alive, or is He not? If He is not, then we are fools, and the Festuses of the world are right to be perplexed. But if He is, then He is the Lord of Festus, the Lord of Agrippa, the Lord of Caesar, and the Lord of all. Our task is to be like Paul, to never shy away from this central, glorious, and inconvenient truth. We must declare in the midst of a perplexed and dying world that there is a certain Jesus, who was dead, but is now, and forever, alive.