Commentary - Acts 26:24-29

Bird's-eye view

In this brief but potent exchange, we witness the gospel's collision with worldly power, sophistication, and skepticism. The apostle Paul, having laid out his testimony with impeccable logic and fiery passion, is met with two distinct but related forms of unbelief. The first is the cynical dismissal of the secular mind, represented by the Roman governor Festus, who mistakes spiritual sanity for madness. To him, the resurrection is not just untrue; it is the product of a deranged intellect, a sign that Paul's "great learning" has finally tipped him over the edge. The second is the cautious, non-committal curiosity of the compromised religious man, King Agrippa, who feels the pull of the truth but is unwilling to pay the cost of discipleship. Paul's response to both men is a master class in Christian apologetics and evangelistic urgency. He meets the charge of insanity with an appeal to "sober truth" and public fact. He answers the king's hesitation with a heartfelt, passionate desire for his complete conversion. The scene is a microcosm of the gospel's reception in the world: it is either madness or the words of sober truth, and it demands not a polite nod but a total surrender.

The core of the passage is the stark contrast between the world's definition of sanity and God's. The world, represented by Festus, thinks it is madness to believe in a crucified and risen Messiah. Paul insists that the true madness is to ignore the most well-attested event in human history, something "not done in a corner." His appeal to Agrippa is not a clever debater's trick but a genuine press for a verdict. He knows Agrippa is trapped between his knowledge of the prophets and his fear of Rome, and Paul wants to liberate him. The climax is Paul's magnificent declaration that he wishes all his hearers were just like him, a man completely captivated by Christ, with the sole exception of his chains. It is a powerful statement that true freedom is found in bondage to Christ, not in the gilded cages of political power.

Outline

Context In Acts

This scene is the culmination of Paul's extended legal defense, which began with his arrest in Jerusalem in Acts 21. After trials before the Sanhedrin, Felix, and now Festus, Paul has appealed to Caesar, forcing his transfer to Rome. This particular hearing is not a formal trial but rather a command performance. The new governor, Porcius Festus, is trying to understand Paul's case to write a coherent report to the emperor, and he has brought in King Herod Agrippa II, a Jewish expert, to help him make sense of it all. Paul seizes the opportunity not simply to defend himself, but to proclaim the gospel at the highest levels of government. He has just finished recounting his conversion on the Damascus road and summarizing his message: that the Christ had to suffer and, by rising from the dead, would proclaim light to both Jews and Gentiles. Festus's outburst comes at the climax of this gospel presentation, specifically in response to the proclamation of the resurrection. This exchange sets the stage for the final section of Acts, where Paul, though a prisoner, will continue his unhindered ministry in the very heart of the empire, Rome itself.

Key Issues

Truth, Sanity, and Chains

When the gospel is faithfully proclaimed, it creates a crisis. It forces a decision. It does not allow for comfortable neutrality. Here, in the court of Herod Agrippa II, with the Roman governor Festus presiding, the apostle Paul brings the kingdom of God crashing into the kingdom of man. The reaction is telling. For the pagan, secular man, the message is insanity. For the man who knows something of the Bible but loves his position more, it is something to be deflected with a bit of clever irony. But for the apostle, it is a matter of sober, historical, life-altering truth.

The world always thinks the dedicated Christian is a bit mad. To live for an unseen kingdom, to bank everything on a resurrected man, to value heavenly treasure over earthly gain, to consider oneself a slave of Christ, this is lunacy to the unregenerate mind. Festus is the voice of this worldly wisdom. He is not being malicious; he is giving his honest assessment. From his perspective, anyone who believes what Paul believes must have had his brain scrambled by too much reading. But Paul's response is crucial for us. He does not retreat into a private, mystical experience. He appeals to public facts, to sober reality, and to the testimony of Scripture. The Christian faith is not a leap in the dark; it is a step into the light of historical reality.

Verse by Verse Commentary

24 Now while Paul was saying this in his defense, Festus said in a loud voice, “Paul, you are out of your mind! Great learning is driving you out of your mind.”

Paul reaches the absolute pinnacle of his argument, the resurrection of Jesus Christ, and Festus can take no more. He interrupts, not with a whisper, but shouting in a loud voice. This is not a calm, reasoned objection. This is an emotional, visceral reaction. The resurrection is the point where the wisdom of the world collides head-on with the power of God. To the Roman mind, steeped in materialism and a cyclical view of history, the idea of a bodily resurrection was not just improbable, it was nonsensical. Festus offers a diagnosis: Paul is insane. And he even identifies the cause. It is not ignorance that has led Paul astray, but rather his great learning. This is a backhanded compliment. Festus recognizes Paul's intellectual horsepower, but he concludes that Paul has read so many scrolls and thought so many deep thoughts that he has lost all contact with common sense. This is the world's perennial charge against the faithful Christian: "You are brilliant, but you are nuts."

25 But Paul said, “I am not out of your mind, most excellent Festus, but I utter words of sober truth.

Paul's reply is a model of respectful firmness. He does not return the insult. He addresses the governor with his proper title, most excellent Festus, showing deference to the office. But he flatly rejects the diagnosis. "I am not mad." His defense is simple and profound: he is speaking words of sober truth. The Greek here is literally "words of truth and soberness" or "sanity." Paul is claiming that his message is not the product of a fevered imagination, but is rooted in objective reality and is proclaimed with a sound mind. He is arguing that it is Festus, not he, who is out of touch with reality. The gospel is not an ecstatic outburst; it is the ultimate truth claim about the nature of the world and the meaning of history.

26 For the king knows about these matters, and I speak to him also with confidence, since I am persuaded that none of these things escape his notice; for this has not been done in a corner.

Having asserted the sanity of his message, Paul now presents his evidence. He pivots from Festus, the ignorant pagan, to Agrippa, the expert witness. "The king knows about these things." What things? The life, ministry, crucifixion, and rumors of the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. Agrippa was a Jew, steeped in the politics and religion of the region. He knew the Old Testament prophecies. He knew about the public ministry of Jesus that had convulsed the entire nation just a few decades earlier. Paul's confidence is rooted in the public nature of the gospel events. This has not been done in a corner. This is a crucial apologetic point. The Christian faith is not based on secret knowledge or private visions. It is based on public events, witnessed by hundreds, that took place in a specific time and place under the watchful eye of Rome. The crucifixion was a public execution. The empty tomb was a public fact. The post-resurrection appearances were public events. Paul is challenging Agrippa to deal with the public evidence.

27 King Agrippa, do you believe the Prophets? I know you believe.”

This is a brilliant and bold move. Paul puts the king on the witness stand. He moves from a general statement about what Agrippa knows to a direct, personal question about what he believes. "Do you believe the Prophets?" The question forces Agrippa into a corner. As a Jewish king who wanted to maintain favor with his subjects, he could not publicly deny the authority of the prophets. But if he admitted that he believed the prophets, the logical next step would be to accept Paul's argument that Jesus was the fulfillment of all they had written. Paul presses his advantage by answering his own question: I know you believe. This is not a guess; it is a statement of fact based on Agrippa's public identity. Paul is forcing the king to confront the inconsistency between his professed faith and his unbelieving life.

28 But Agrippa replied to Paul, “In such short time are you persuading me to become a Christian?”

Agrippa squirms. He cannot answer "no," and he will not answer "yes." So he deflects with a response that is dripping with either sarcasm or genuine astonishment. The exact tone is debated, but the effect is the same: evasion. "Do you think you can make me a Christian so easily?" He sidesteps the question about the prophets and focuses on Paul's personal intent. He tries to turn the tables, making it about Paul's persuasive tactics rather than the truth of the message. Whether he was "almost persuaded" in a sincere way or was simply mocking Paul's audacity, his answer is a refusal to engage with the claim of the gospel on his own life. He feels the heat, and he wants out of the kitchen.

29 And Paul said, “I would pray to God, that whether in a short or long time, not only you, but also all who hear me this day, might become such as I am, except for these chains.”

Paul's final reply is magnificent. He refuses to be drawn into a debate about timing or tactics. He goes straight back to the heart of the matter, which is his passionate desire for their salvation. His prayer to God is that all who were listening, Agrippa, Bernice, Festus, the military commanders, the prominent men of the city, would become what he was. And what was he? A Christian. A man utterly convinced of the truth of the gospel, a man whose life had been completely transformed by the risen Christ. He wants them to have everything he has: his faith, his joy, his hope, his purpose. Everything, that is, except for these chains. This final phrase is filled with grace and power. He does not wish his sufferings upon them, only his salvation. He stands before them, a prisoner in chains, yet he is the freest man in the room, and he pities their bondage to sin and unbelief. He knows that his chains are a trifle compared to the chains of sin that bind the hearts of kings and governors.

Application

This passage puts several sharp questions to the modern church. First, is our presentation of the gospel something that the world might mistake for madness? If our Christianity is so tame, so reasonable, so accommodated to the spirit of the age that no one would ever dream of calling us crazy, it is a good sign that we are not preaching the same message as Paul. The proclamation of a supernatural resurrection that turns the world upside down ought to sound a little crazy to a world that is upside down. We should not seek to be offensive, but we must not be surprised when the central truths of our faith offend the sensibilities of a fallen world.

Second, do we believe, like Paul, that our faith is a matter of sober truth? Do we ground our faith in the public, historical facts of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ? Or have we retreated into the realm of private feeling and subjective experience? We must have the confidence to say that these things were not done in a corner, and to challenge men to examine the evidence.

Finally, do we possess Paul's evangelistic passion? Do we truly desire, do we pray to God, that those around us, our family, our neighbors, our leaders, would become "such as I am"? Do we believe that what we have in Christ is so surpassingly good that our deepest longing is for others to share in it? Paul, in chains, pitied the king in his robes. He saw his own condition as infinitely superior to Agrippa's. This is the holy confidence that comes from being utterly captivated by the glory of Christ. May God grant us the grace to be just as mad, just as sober, and just as full of love for the lost as the apostle Paul.