- Covered In His Dust
- Posts
- Acts Chapter 25
"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 25 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.
Whatever today looked like, saints, His promises are sure.
Before we get into Acts 25, let’s take a minute to take a look around and remember where we are.
Paul is still in Caesarea, held in Herod’s old palace. It’s a Roman city on the coast.
It
is
Beautiful.
This is a photo I took in 2021
This is where governors lived. Where trials happened. Where decisions were made that shaped the entire region.
And Paul has been here for a while.
He’s not free, but he’s not forgotten either. He’s waiting. He’s trusting.
A lot has happened behind the scenes since the last chapter. And it’s about to take another turn.
Before we dive into Acts 25, let’s back up one verse.
When two years had elapsed, Felix was succeeded by Porcius Festus. And desiring to do the Jews a favor, Felix left Paul in prison.
At the end of chapter 24, leadership quietly changes hands. Felix is replaced. A new governor takes over. His name is Porcius Festus.
And tucked between those two sentences? Two years have passed.
It’s easy to miss. But it’s been two full years since Paul gave his defense at the Antonio Fortress. Two years since he was placed under Roman guard in Caesarea. Two years since that first trial in Herod’s palace.
And what doesn’t make sense is that Paul was never found guilty. There wasn’t enough evidence. There wasn’t even a real case.
So why keep him? Why let him sit there that long?
The only reason we’re given is this: Felix wanted to do the Jews a favor.
Not because Paul did anything wrong. Not because it was right. Just to keep the peace.
So Paul waits.
But God is still moving.
Now three days after Festus had arrived in the province, he went up to Jerusalem from Caesarea. And the chief priests and the principal men of the Jews laid out their case against Paul, and they urged him, asking as a favor against Paul that he summon him to Jerusalem—because they were planning an ambush to kill him on the way.
You’d think the anger would have faded by now. That they would have moved on to something else. But they haven’t.
Paul’s been sitting quietly in Caesarea, under Roman guard. He hasn’t been causing trouble. He hasn’t been planting churches.
He’s
just
been
waiting.
And yet, as soon as there’s a change in leadership, the religious leaders are right there again, trying to have him killed.
Their hatred has settled in. It’s hardened and taken root.
You’d think they would have moved on. But they haven’t. They can’t.
Because Paul wasn’t just challenging their authority. He was preaching a gospel that pulled the rug out from under their power, their pride, and their version of righteousness.
I almost missed it the first time I read it.
They weren’t just asking Festus to move Paul back to Jerusalem so he could stand trial again. They were planning to ambush him on the way and kill him before he ever got there. Again.
And that’s what really stopped me.
They weren’t gang members or hired killers. These were the religious leaders, the ones who were supposed to represent God, the ones people trusted to teach the Scriptures and uphold justice.
And yet, two years after Paul’s arrest, they were plotting his death.
Not out of passion for truth. Not because he had broken the law.
But because the message he carried—the gospel—was threatening everything they’d built.
It’s unsettling when you sit with that for a minute. These men, so committed to protecting their position and power, were willing to plan a murder in secret… and still pretend they were doing God’s work.
Festus replied that Paul was being kept at Caesarea and that he himself intended to go there shortly. “So,” said he, “let the men of authority among you go down with me, and if there is anything wrong about the man, let them bring charges against him.”
Festus says no?
He refuses to transfer Paul back to Jerusalem.
But the question is, why? (When you’re studying, always ask questions. What doesn’t make sense?)
He’s brand new in office. The Jewish leaders come to him almost immediately with a request. If he wanted to score political points or build early favor with the Sanhedrin, this would have been an easy way to do it. Just say yes. Transfer Paul. Let them handle it.
But he doesn’t.
He tells them if they want to accuse Paul, they can come to Caesarea and do it there. Where it’s public. Where Roman law still holds.
So what’s going on?
Maybe Festus was just trying to follow protocol. Maybe he didn’t trust their motives. Or maybe… maybe this is the Holy Spirit stepping in again.
Think about the pattern.
Paul’s nephew overhears a murder plot in Jerusalem. The commander responds right away. Paul is rushed out of the city with almost 500 soldiers. Then Felix stalls for two years. And now Festus, a brand-new governor, holds the line.
Every step of the way, someone could have looked the other way. Someone could have said, “Sure, send him back to Jerusalem.” And Paul probably wouldn’t have made it.
It’s easy to read past it, but I believe this is God at work behind the scenes. Holding back evil. Delaying plans. Preserving Paul’s life so that the gospel can keep moving forward.
This is the Holy Spirit. Quiet. Steady. Present. And still guiding the story.
After he stayed among them not more than eight or ten days, he went down to Caesarea. And the next day he took his seat on the tribunal and ordered Paul to be brought. When he had arrived, the Jews who had come down from Jerusalem stood around him, bringing many and serious charges against him that they could not prove.
This moves quickly.
Festus spends less than two weeks in Jerusalem. Then he heads back to Caesarea and calls for Paul the very next day. He doesn’t stall. He’s ready to move the case forward.
And waiting for him are the same Jewish leaders who’ve been chasing Paul for years.
The author Luke says they brought many and serious charges. These weren’t small issues. They were throwing everything they could at him, hoping that something—anything—would stick. They wanted Paul to look like a threat to Rome. A danger to peace. Someone who needed to be dealt with quickly.
But again, they had no proof. Nothing held up.
Paul is standing there without a lawyer.
No defense team.
No crowd in his corner.
He’s alone in front of the governor while his enemies surround him.
If it sounds familiar, it should.
They did this to Jesus too.
False witnesses. Twisted words. Religious leaders pretending to protect the people while protecting themselves.
This isn’t about justice. It’s about control.
And Paul stands right in the middle of it, seemingly alone, but filled with the Spirit of God.
Paul argued in his defense, “Neither against the law of the Jews, nor against the temple, nor against Caesar have I committed any offense.” But Festus, wishing to do the Jews a favor, said to Paul, “Do you wish to go up to Jerusalem and there be tried on these charges before me?”
Groundhog Day
This looks familiar.
Felix didn’t find Paul guilty, but he didn’t want to upset the Jews. So he left him in prison.
Now here comes Festus. New governor. Same problem.
Paul gives a clear defense. He hasn’t broken Jewish law. He hasn’t dishonored the temple. He hasn’t done anything against Caesar.
Festus knows that. But instead of making a decision, he tries to shift it back to Paul. He asks if Paul wants to go to Jerusalem and stand trial there.
On the surface, it seems like Festus is being fair. But he’s not.
The leaders back in Jerusalem are still planning to kill him. And even if Festus doesn’t know that, he’s still trying to avoid the hard choice. Just like Felix did.
He wants to keep the peace. Keep everyone happy. Protect his own position.
But in doing that, he’s putting Paul’s life at risk. Again.
This wasn’t about what was right. It was about what was easier.
But Paul said, “I am standing before Caesar’s tribunal, where I ought to be tried. To the Jews I have done no wrong, as you yourself know very well. If then I am a wrongdoer and have committed anything for which I deserve to die, I do not seek to escape death. But if there is nothing to their charges against me, no one can give me up to them. I appeal to Caesar.”
Paul isn’t trying to escape punishment. He makes himself clear. If he’s guilty, he’s willing to die. He’s not afraid of that.
But he also knows he’s innocent. And he has enough wisdom to see what’s really happening. If he goes back to Jerusalem, it won’t be a fair trial. It won’t be a search for truth. It’ll be another setup. Another ambush. A good chance he never even makes it to the courtroom.
Paul’s appeal to Caesar isn’t just a legal move to save his life. It’s a gospel decision.
Jesus told him back in Acts 23:11, “You must testify in Rome.” So when Festus suggests Jerusalem, Paul doesn’t even flinch. He’s not going backward. He’s not going sideways. He’s walking in step with what God has already told him.
Paul says, “To the Jews I have done no wrong, as you yourself know very well.”
That’s bold.
He’s telling Festus, You know I’m innocent. You know this case has no merit. And if you hand me over anyway, you're not acting in justice. You're playing politics.
Paul isn’t just defending himself. He’s putting the pressure back on the man who’s supposed to uphold justice.
“I appeal to Caesar” wasn’t just a courtroom tactic.
It was a declaration. Paul is taking the message of Jesus into the heart of the Roman Empire.
And he’s bringing the gospel with him.
Then Festus, when he had conferred with his council, answered, “To Caesar you have appealed; to Caesar you shall go.”
That’s it. There’s no turning back.
Caesar at this time was Nero, the emperor of Rome. The most powerful man on earth. Ruler of the empire. Worshiped by many as a god.
And Paul? A former Pharisee turned follower of Jesus. He’s being sent to Rome. Not with honor, but in chains.
It might look like a detour. But it’s not.
This is the road.
He is walking straight into the heart of the empire with the gospel in his hands.
Man. You can feel the tension building.
The rest of chapter 25 is coming. And Paul’s about to stand before someone with a crown. Not Nero. But a king nonetheless.
God isn’t just preserving Paul. He’s positioning him.
That’s for 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.