The Hope on Trial Text: Acts 26:1-8
Introduction: The Ambassador in Chains
When we come to a scene like this one, it is very easy for our modern sensibilities to misread the room entirely. We see a prisoner, chained, brought before kings and governors. We see a man on trial for his life, and we instinctively assume a posture of defense, of pity, perhaps. But that is to fundamentally misunderstand what is happening. The Apostle Paul is not the one on trial here. King Agrippa is on trial. The governor Festus is on trial. The Jewish accusers are on trial. The entire unbelieving world, with all its pomp and circumstance, is being cross-examined by the gospel of Jesus Christ. Paul is not a defendant pleading for his life; he is an ambassador of the King of Heaven, and he has come to present his credentials and deliver his monarch's terms.
This is not a defense; it is a declaration of war. It is an offensive maneuver. Paul, in chains, is more free and more powerful than any of the robed and jeweled officials arrayed before him. They are the ones in bondage, chained to their sin, their political calculations, and their unbelief. Paul is here, by divine appointment, to offer them a pardon. Every accusation leveled against him is simply an opportunity, a divinely orchestrated setup, for him to proclaim the central truths of the cosmos. Our secular age loves to put Christianity in the dock. It loves to accuse us of being backwards, bigoted, and dangerous. We must learn from Paul that such accusations are not something to be feared or evaded. They are invitations to turn the tables, to put the world's foolish presuppositions on trial, and to boldly proclaim the hope that is within us.
In these opening verses of his address to Agrippa, Paul does not grovel or flatter. He establishes his credibility, defines the central issue, and drives straight to the one question that determines everything: the resurrection of the dead. He is not arguing a point of law. He is confronting a worldview.
The Text
Now Agrippa said to Paul, “You are permitted to speak for yourself.” Then Paul, stretching out his hand, began to make his defense:
“Concerning all the things of which I am accused by the Jews, I regard myself blessed, King Agrippa, that I am about to make my defense before you today; especially because you are an expert in all customs and questions among the Jews; therefore I beg you to listen to me patiently.
“So then, all Jews know my manner of life from my youth, which from the beginning was spent among my own nation and at Jerusalem; since they have known about me for a long time, if they are willing to testify, that I lived as a Pharisee according to the strictest sect of our religion. And now I am standing here being tried for the hope of the promise made by God to our fathers; the promise to which our twelve tribes hope to attain, as they earnestly serve God night and day. And for this hope, O King, I am being accused by Jews. Why is it considered unbelievable among all of you if God does raise the dead?
(Acts 26:1-8 LSB)
A Strategic Respect (v. 1-3)
The scene is set, and Paul begins his address.
"Then Paul, stretching out his hand, began to make his defense: 'Concerning all the things of which I am accused by the Jews, I regard myself blessed, King Agrippa, that I am about to make my defense before you today; especially because you are an expert in all customs and questions among the Jews; therefore I beg you to listen to me patiently.'" (Acts 26:1-3)
Notice the posture. Paul "stretches out his hand." This is the gesture of a confident orator, not a cowering criminal. He is taking the floor. He is in command of the situation. Though he is in chains, he is the freest man in the room.
He begins by showing appropriate respect for Agrippa's office. This is not flattery. This is obedience to the command to "honor the king" (1 Peter 2:17). Paul recognizes that Agrippa's authority, however corruptly it might be wielded, is delegated authority from God. But his respect is also highly strategic. He calls himself "blessed" to be making his defense before Agrippa. Why? Because Agrippa is an "expert in all customs and questions among the Jews."
With this single stroke, Paul accomplishes two things. First, he establishes a common ground. He is saying, "You and I speak the same language. We have read the same books. You understand the context of this dispute." Second, and more pointedly, he removes Agrippa's excuse for ignorance. He is subtly saying, "Because you know these things, you will be held to a higher standard. You cannot plead ignorance when I speak of the prophets and the promises of God. You know exactly what I am talking about." He is laying a trap of accountability. He is not just defending himself; he is cornering the king with the king's own knowledge.
The Conservative Revolutionary (v. 4-5)
Paul then establishes his credentials, not as a Christian innovator, but as a Jewish traditionalist.
"So then, all Jews know my manner of life from my youth... that I lived as a Pharisee according to the strictest sect of our religion." (Acts 26:4-5)
This is a crucial move. He is not some fringe lunatic who emerged from the desert with a new religion. He was an insider's insider. He was a Pharisee, the "strictest sect." No one was more zealous, more educated, more committed to the letter of the law than Saul of Tarsus. He is essentially saying, "I have impeccable conservative credentials. I out-Jewed all my accusers."
Why does he do this? Because he is about to argue that his conversion to Christ was not an abandonment of Judaism, but rather its ultimate fulfillment. He did not stop being a Jew. He became the truest kind of Jew. He found the very thing that his Pharisaism was pointing toward all along. He is the true conservative in the room. His accusers, who reject their own Messiah, are the true radicals, the true apostates from the faith of their fathers.
He even dares to call on his accusers as character witnesses: "if they are willing to testify." This is a masterful jab. He knows they will not testify truthfully, and their silence condemns them. They know who he was. They know his zeal. And that makes his transformation all the more inexplicable apart from the supernatural intervention he is about to describe.
The Indictment of Hope (v. 6-7)
Here Paul pivots to the central charge, reframing it completely.
"And now I am standing here being tried for the hope of the promise made by God to our fathers; the promise to which our twelve tribes hope to attain... And for this hope, O King, I am being accused by Jews." (Acts 26:6-7)
This is the heart of his argument. He is not on trial for sedition, or for profaning the temple, or for any of the trumped-up charges. He says, "I am on trial for hope." Specifically, the hope of the promise God made to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The hope that animated the entire Old Testament. The hope for which the twelve tribes "earnestly serve God night and day."
The staggering irony is that he is being accused by Jews for believing in the central hope of Judaism. It would be like prosecuting a man for being too American, or too human. He is taking the faith of his accusers more seriously than they do. They go through the motions, the earnest service, but when the fulfillment of their hope actually arrives, they crucify Him and persecute His messengers. Paul is exposing their hypocrisy on a massive scale. He is not preaching a new religion; he is announcing that the old one has come to its glorious climax.
The Unbelievable Question (v. 8)
Finally, Paul brings it all down to the one, foundational issue. He drives the nail into the board.
"Why is it considered unbelievable among all of you if God does raise the dead?" (Acts 26:8)
This is the question. This is the stumbling block. This is where every worldview collides with the Christian faith. Paul is no longer talking about himself. He turns the question on his audience: "Why is it considered unbelievable among all of you?" He is addressing Agrippa, the Sadducees who denied the resurrection, the pragmatic Roman Festus, and the Pharisees who claimed to believe in a future resurrection but choked on a past one.
The question exposes the smallness of their god. If you believe in the God of Genesis 1, the God who spoke the universe into existence out of nothing, then the resurrection of a single body is a trivial matter. It is child's play. To say you believe in the God of Abraham but to find the resurrection "unbelievable" is a flat contradiction. It reveals that your god is not the omnipotent Creator of the Scriptures, but rather a tame, manageable deity of your own making, one who operates within the closed system of your naturalistic assumptions.
Paul is saying that the problem is not a lack of evidence. The problem is a matter of presupposition. The problem is a failure of the theological imagination. They have a God who is too small. The resurrection of Jesus Christ is the ultimate demonstration that the God of the Bible is the one, true God, and that He is not bound by the limitations we attempt to place upon Him. It is the fact that shatters all other worldviews and upon which all true hope is built.
Conclusion: The Trial We All Face
Paul's defense before Agrippa is a model for our own engagement with a hostile world. He was respectful but uncompromising. He was strategic but bold. He established common ground and then used it to drive home the exclusive claims of Christ. And he understood that all arguments, all accusations, all debates, ultimately boil down to this one question: Do you believe God can raise the dead?
More specifically, do you believe God did raise Jesus from the dead? This is not an abstract theological proposition. It is a historical claim. It is the fact that grounds our hope. Paul was not on trial for a set of religious feelings or ethical principles. He was on trial for a historical event. The resurrection is the lynchpin of reality. If it is true, then everything changes. If it is true, then Jesus is Lord, and Caesar is not. If it is true, then the promise made to the fathers has been fulfilled. If it is true, then there is forgiveness of sins and life everlasting.
Every one of us stands where Agrippa stood. We have heard the testimony. We have been presented with the facts. And the question hangs in the air, demanding an answer from each of us: "Why should it be thought a thing incredible?" To find it incredible is to remain in chains, under the judgment of a God whose power you have underestimated. To believe it, to confess it, is to be set free, to be counted as a child of the promise, and to share in the very hope for which Paul stood on trial.