- Covered In His Dust
- Posts
- Acts Chapter 24
Acts Chapter 24
George Sisneros
June 01, 2025
"When disciples followed a rabbi, they followed him closely so they would never be out of his sight, never be someplace where they couldn’t hear him speak. They followed him so closely that his sandals often kicked up dust."
May you be covered in His dust.
If this is your first time receiving Covered in His Dust, WELCOME. I’d love to hear where you’re reading from. Just reply and let me know.
Before you dive into my notes, I encourage you to Read Chapter 24 HERE first.
Yes, I include all the scripture below, but there’s something about sitting with the whole chapter first — giving yourself room to be curious.
What catches you off guard?
What doesn't make sense?
Where is that?
Who's that?
Why?
Those questions will make the notes hit deeper.
Good morning Saints! ☀️
Before we jump into Acts 24, here’s where we left off:
A group of more than forty religious leaders made a vow not to eat or drink until Paul was dead.
But God stepped in.
Through a boy.
Paul’s nephew overheard the plot and went straight to the Roman barracks. The commander didn’t wait. That same night, Paul was rushed out of Jerusalem under military escort—almost 500 soldiers surrounding him as they moved through the dark.
They took him to Caesarea.
Right to the coast. Right to the sea.
Caesarea was a Roman port city—built by Herod the Great. And sitting at the center was his palace. Marble floors. Roman columns. A freshwater pool with waves crashing just beyond.
That’s where Paul was held.
Not in a dark prison. Not forgotten. But guarded inside Herod’s praetorium, the seat of Roman power in Judea. The same place governors ruled from. The same halls where trials were held. The same floors where kings once walked.
God had placed him in the perfect spot.
Now the accusers are on their way. And Paul is about to speak.
Let’s dig into Chapter 24.
And after five days the high priest Ananias came down with some elders and a spokesman, one Tertullus. They laid before the governor their case against Paul.
And when he had been summoned, Tertullus began to accuse him, saying: “Since through you we enjoy much peace, and since by your foresight, most excellent Felix, reforms are being made for this nation, in every way and everywhere we accept this with all gratitude.
But, to detain you no further, I beg you in your kindness to hear us briefly. For we have found this man a plague, one who stirs up riots among all the Jews throughout the world and is a ringleader of the sect of the Nazarenes. He even tried to profane the temple, but we seized him. By examining him yourself you will be able to find out from him about everything of which we accuse him.”
Let’s talk about this speech.
Tertullus wasn’t a priest or a religious leader. He was more like a lawyer. Hired muscle. Brought in to impress the Romans and make Paul sound dangerous.
And right from the start, he turns on the charm.
“Since through you we enjoy much peace… and by your foresight… reforms are being made for this nation… we accept this with all gratitude.”
None of that was true.
Felix wasn’t known for peace or reform. He ruled with cruelty. He crushed rebellions. He took bribes. But that didn’t matter to Tertullus. His job wasn’t to tell the truth. It was to win.
Then he starts laying out the accusations.
“We’ve found this man to be a plague.”
That word carried weight. He’s not just saying Paul is annoying. He’s saying Paul spreads chaos. He’s contagious. Dangerous to the public.
Then he hits three main charges:
• Paul stirs up riots wherever he goes.
• He’s a leader of this new “sect”—the Nazarenes.
• He tried to defile the temple.
It sounds serious. But let’s slow down and take a closer look.
Paul didn’t stir up riots. The people who hated him did. Paul didn’t start some dangerous cult. He preached Christ. And Paul didn’t defile the temple. That was a lie from men who didn’t like what he stood for.
Tertullus takes pieces of the story and bends them to make Paul look like a threat to Rome.
Then he closes with this:
“By examining him yourself, you’ll see everything we’re saying is true.”
It sounds confident. Right? But there’s nothing behind it.
There’s
no
evidence.
This wasn’t a search for truth. They wanted Paul out of the way.
But God was letting it play out… because every lie spoken against Paul was just another step toward where God was sending him. Rome.
Did you catch that?
Tertullus calls Paul a “ringleader of the sect of the Nazarenes.” That’s not a title of respect. That was meant to sting.
It’s the only time in the Bible Christians are called that. And it wasn’t how they referred to themselves. It was how outsiders labeled them, especially those who thought this whole Jesus movement was ridiculous.
Remember what Nathanael said when he first heard about Jesus? “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”
Nazareth wasn’t impressive. It was small. Poor. Off the radar. So calling someone a Nazarene was like saying they followed a nobody from nowhere.
But that’s not what they called themselves. All through Acts, believers referred to the movement as “the Way.”
Jesus didn’t just bring new teachings. He said, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.”
They believed that. With everything they had. He wasn’t just the message, He was the path.
The way to truth.
The way to God.
The way to life.
So they followed Him. They lived for Him. They were walking the Way.
And now here’s Tertullus, twisting the story. Using words to make the whole thing sound like a cult.
When I read and study, I sometimes (okay… often) have to slow down, step back and reset the scene. Let’s do that.
We’re in Caesarea—Herod’s old palace by the sea. Marble floors. Open courtyards. Roman guards stationed at the doors. This is where the governor lives, works, and holds court.
It’s not a synagogue. It’s not a prison cell. It’s a Roman courtroom inside a royal residence.
Felix is seated up front—the governor of Judea. Tertullus is standing nearby, ready to speak.
Paul is the defendant.
Alone.
No lawyer.
Just him.
And then there’s the group from Jerusalem. Ananias the high priest. A handful of elders—probably some of the same ones who shouted for Paul’s death back in the temple. They’ve traveled all this way to make sure their accusations are heard.
Roman guards are watching. Scribes may be recording. A few others might be standing silently along the walls, curious or waiting for orders.
It’s not a mob. But the pressure’s still thick.
Paul is surrounded. But he’s not outnumbered.
Because the Spirit of God is in the room too. And Paul knows exactly who he’s speaking for.
One with God is a majority.
The Jews also joined in the charge, affirming that all these things were so. And when the governor had nodded to him to speak, Paul replied:
This wasn’t just Tertullus making a case. This was a unified front. The religious elite showing up in full force, trying to convince a Roman governor that Paul was a real threat.
A threat to them. A threat to the peace. A threat to Rome itself.
Ananias, the high priest of Israel, was standing right there.
They weren’t just hoping for a guilty verdict. They were pushing for it. And they didn’t want him silenced or imprisoned. They wanted him dead.
“Knowing that for many years you have been a judge over this nation, I cheerfully make my defense.
Notice what Paul doesn’t do:
Paul doesn’t flatter.
He doesn’t butter Felix up with exaggerated praise the way Tertullus did. No talk of peace, reforms, or gratitude. No political spin.
He simply says, “You’ve been a judge here for a long time. So I’m glad to speak.”
That’s it.
It’s respectful. But it’s honest.
Paul’s not playing games. He’s not performing for favor. He’s standing in truth. Confident in God.
And unlike the men accusing him, Paul doesn’t need to manipulate the room to make his case.
You can verify that it is not more than twelve days since I went up to worship in Jerusalem, and they did not find me disputing with anyone or stirring up a crowd, either in the temple or in the synagogues or in the city. Neither can they prove to you what they now bring up against me.
Paul opens his defense with the obvious.
He’s only been in Jerusalem for twelve days. That’s barely enough time to settle in, let alone organize a riot or lead a rebellion. He reminds Felix that there were no arguments, no shouting, no crowds. Not in the temple. Not in the streets. Not anywhere.
He wasn’t stirring things up. He was worshiping. And then he calls it out clearly.
They have no proof.
No evidence.
Just accusations.
But this I confess to you, that according to the Way, which they call a sect, I worship the God of our fathers, believing everything laid down by the Law and written in the Prophets, having a hope in God, which these men themselves accept, that there will be a resurrection of both the just and the unjust. So I always take pains to have a clear conscience toward both God and man.
The Jewish leaders saw the Way as a splinter group. A dangerous offshoot from Judaism. To them, following Jesus was a break from tradition, not a fulfillment of it.
Calling it a “sect” was a way to discredit it. It made the movement sound illegitimate. Fringe. Cultish.
If they could convince Rome this was just one more fanatical group causing unrest, they could get Paul silenced.
But Paul just reframes it.
He says, fine they call it a sect. But I worship the same God. I believe the same Scriptures. I walk in the same hope.
That’s what his accusers were trying to imply, that Paul was rejecting Moses, the Law, and the prophets.
But Paul makes it clear: he believes ALL of it.
Jesus didn’t cancel the Old Testament. He fulfilled it.
"For truly, I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the Law until all is accomplished."
Now after several years I came to bring alms to my nation and to present offerings. While I was doing this, they found me purified in the temple, without any crowd or tumult. But some Jews from Asia— they ought to be here before you and to make an accusation, should they have anything against me.
Paul says he came back to Jerusalem after years of being away, not to start trouble, but to bring alms and offerings. He was giving. He was worshiping. He was purified in the temple, which means he was going through the proper rituals, following Jewish law, doing everything right.
And they still came after him.
But this little detail tucked into the passage stood out. Paul says it was some Jews from Asia who caused the uproar. Not the men standing in front of Felix. Not Ananias. Not the elders. The ones who actually started the chaos? They didn’t even show up.
They’re the key witnesses. And they’re missing.
Paul calls it out. If they have something to say, they should be here. Otherwise this whole thing should be thrown out. Under Roman law, if the accusers don’t show, there is no case.
Paul says there was no tumult. I had to look that word up. It means confusion. Chaos. A noisy disturbance. And he’s right, there wasn’t any. Until they showed up.
Paul’s saying, I came in peace. They brought the riot.
And now the real troublemakers are nowhere to be found.
Or else let these men themselves say what wrongdoing they found when I stood before the council, other than this one thing that I cried out while standing among them: ‘It is with respect to the resurrection of the dead that I am on trial before you this day.’”
If the real accusers aren’t here, then let these men, the ones standing in front of you, say what I did wrong.
And the only thing they could possibly point to?
Paul stood up in the council and said, “It’s because of the resurrection of the dead that I’m on trial.”
That was it.
That was the line that sent the Sanhedrin into chaos back in Jerusalem. Not because Paul broke the law. But because he spoke the truth.
The resurrection was the dividing line. And Paul wasn’t afraid to stand on it.
Is it just me, or is Acts absolutely wrecking you too?
Where has this been my whole life?
I want to shout it from a mountain. I want the world to see what I see. To feel what I feel.
The Holy Spirit is alive in these words. These aren’t just stories.
This is fire.
This is breath.
This is God.
People say they want to feel close to Him. They say they want to hear His voice.
Open your Bible. He’s right there.
And if this is stirring something in you—share it. Send it. Post it. Let someone else feel it too.
Okay. This is a long one but it doesn’t feel long.
Let’s keep going and finish Chapter 24. Cool?
But Felix, having a rather accurate knowledge of the Way, put them off, saying, “When Lysias the tribune comes down, I will decide your case.” Then he gave orders to the centurion that he should be kept in custody but have some liberty, and that none of his friends should be prevented from attending to his needs.
Felix could have made a decision.
There was no evidence, he had enough to drop the case.
The key witnesses from Asia never showed up.
Paul’s defense was clear and consistent.
Even Felix himself had a pretty accurate understanding of the Way.
He knew this wasn’t a criminal case. This was a theological dispute, rooted in jealousy and power.
But instead of rendering a verdict, Felix stalls.
He says he’ll wait for Lysias, the Roman commander who rescued Paul in Jerusalem, but there’s no record that he ever followed through.
Felix didn’t want to upset the Jews. He didn’t want to look weak to Rome. And maybe, deep down, he didn’t want to confront the truth Paul was preaching.
That being said, this wasn’t a dungeon sentence.
Felix kept Paul in custody—but it was more like house arrest inside the palace. The text says he was given some liberty. His friends were allowed to visit. They could bring him what he needed. He wasn’t cut off. He wasn’t alone.
He was still a prisoner. But God was still providing.
Even in the delay. Even in the injustice. God made space for comfort. For friendship. For ministry.
After some days Felix came with his wife Drusilla, who was Jewish, and he sent for Paul and heard him speak about faith in Christ Jesus.
Who is Drusilla?
Drusilla was young, Jewish, and famously beautiful. Historians say she was around 19 or 20 years old when this happened.
She was also on her second marriage, but not because of a normal divorce. Felix seduced her away from her first husband, which tells you exactly the kind of man he was.
Drusilla came from a bloodline soaked in pride and violence.
Her father was Herod Agrippa I, the same man who murdered James and had Peter thrown into prison in Acts 12.
Her great-uncle was Herod Antipas, who beheaded John the Baptist.
And her grandfather? Herod the Great. He was the man who ordered all the baby boys in Bethlehem to be killed after Jesus was born.
It’s a dark legacy. A family that kept trying to kill what God was doing.
And as he reasoned about righteousness and self-control and the coming judgment, Felix was alarmed and said, “Go away for the present. When I get an opportunity I will summon you.”
At the same time he hoped that money would be given him by Paul. So he sent for him often and conversed with him.
Paul’s mini sermon.
Even sitting in front of power, chained up, falsely accused, Paul doesn’t hold back.
Instead of pleading his case or trying to win favor, Paul does what he always does… he preaches.
He talks about righteousness. What it means to be right before God. He talks about self-control. Living with discipline in a world that runs on impulse. And he talks about the coming judgment. That every single one of us will one day stand before God.
Three truths.
Righteousness.
Self-control.
Judgment.
And Felix feels it. The Bible says he was alarmed. Shaken. Convicted. Uncomfortable.
But instead of repenting, he tells Paul, “Go away for now.”
He wanted comfort, not conviction. And if we’re honest—he was still hoping Paul would slip him a bribe.
So he kept sending for him. Kept listening. But not because he was seeking the truth. Because he was stalling.
And that’s where I had to put the Bible down and take a breath.
Paul still preached to him.
Paul still preached to him???
Felix was corrupt. He was cruel. He had no business pretending to seek justice. But Paul gave him the truth anyway.
Because even in that palace, even in the heart of a crooked man, Paul knew God could still save.
Felix never responded with faith, at least not that we know of. But Paul gave him a real shot.
Because no one is ever too far gone.
Felix heard the truth. He knew Paul was innocent. He felt the conviction.
But he wanted comfort more than repentance. Control more than surrender. So he stalled.
And that’s what haunts me.
How many of us do the same? We hear the truth. We feel the weight of it. And instead of acting, we say, “Maybe later.”
But the gospel doesn’t wait. And delayed obedience is still disobedience.
Congratulations! Haha. You just read through the longest set of notes I’ve written so far.
You do not want to miss Chapter 25. Here’s a preview.
Two years in prison.
A new governor in charge.
And then Paul drops a bomb.
“I appeal to Caesar.”
Everything changes.
This isn’t just a trial anymore.
It’s a direct line to the throne of the most powerful empire on earth.
Paul isn’t begging for his life. He’s dragging the gospel into Caesar’s own courts.
And Rome has no idea what’s coming.
See you next week.
I love you,
George
Uncovering Scripture
PS: If a friend shared this Bible study with you and you’d like to receive it straight to your inbox, just click HERE to subscribe—it’s free and always will be!
George Sisneros is a full-time missionary in Guatemala and the founder of Ordinary Missionaries and the El Rosario Christian Academy for Boys.
He’s been married to his wife, Vonda, for 26 years. He’s a father to nine children, five adopted.
In 2024, George and his wife expanded to Cuba, joining forces with nine pastors committed to transforming lives through the gospel.