- Covered In His Dust
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- Acts Chapter 26
Grace to you from the God who moves mountains and hearts,
Before we open Acts 26, let’s remember where we are.
Paul is still in Caesarea. Still in custody. Still standing in Herod’s old palace, with the sea crashing behind him.
He just finished his hearing before Festus. And now a new face enters the room.
A king.
Agrippa.
The great-grandson of Herod the Great, the one who tried to kill Jesus as a baby.
This family has been fighting the gospel from the beginning. And now Paul stands before the last of them.
Festus brought Agrippa in to help. Paul appealed to Caesar, but Festus didn’t know what to write. There were no real charges.
So Agrippa shows up. And he’s curious.
But this isn’t just politics.
It’s God at work.
Paul is about to do what he was born to do, tell his story. Preach Jesus. To a king.
Ready? Let’s go!
So Agrippa said to Paul, “You have permission to speak for yourself.” Then Paul stretched out his hand and made his defense:
There’s so much packed in this one verse!
If you close your eyes, you can see it.
Paul lifts his hand to speak, but his wrists are in chains.
Not rope. Iron. The kind that clinks when you move.
And around him?
A Roman governor.
A Jewish king.
Bernice, dressed in royalty.
Military officers.
Politicians.
It was a show, for the elite class of Caesarea, drunk on power.
Silk robes. Gold rings. Polished armor.
And right in the middle… is Paul.
When he lifts his hand, I imagine the whole room goes quiet. The only sound is those chains.
He’s not asking for mercy. He’s not pleading for his life. He’s about to preach resurrection.
This wasn’t a trial. And Paul isn’t here to defend himself.
This is a throne room sermon.
“I consider myself fortunate that it is before you, King Agrippa, I am going to make my defense today against all the accusations of the Jews, especially because you are familiar with all the customs and controversies of the Jews. Therefore I beg you to listen to me patiently.
Agrippa was raised in Rome, but the emperor put him in charge of Jewish matters. He even had the power to appoint the high priest.
He knew the law.
He knew the traditions.
He understood the debates.
So when Paul says, “I’m glad it’s you listening to me,” he means it.
Agrippa would understand what Paul was talking about. The Law. The prophets. The resurrection. All of it.
My manner of life from my youth, spent from the beginning among my own nation and in Jerusalem, is known by all the Jews. They have known for a long time, if they are willing to testify, that according to the strictest party of our religion I have lived as a Pharisee.
Paul doesn’t waste time.
He opens by reminding everyone in the room who he used to be.
He says, “My life from the beginning… in Jerusalem… is known by all the Jews.”
And that’s important. Paul was born in Tarsus. But he was brought up in Jerusalem, and trained under Gamaliel, one of the most respected rabbis of the time. This was the city where the temple stood, where the Pharisees taught and where the Sanhedrin ruled.
And he’s not exaggerating when he says they know his story.
They watched him grow up.
They knew how committed he was.
He was one of the boldest Pharisees in the city.
Then he adds this line:
“If they are willing to testify…”
Oof.
Because the truth is, they probably won’t.
They know Paul’s story. But they don’t want to tell it. They don’t want to remind the court that Paul used to be one of their best. They don’t want to admit that the man they’re accusing… used to sit on their side of the courtroom.
As a writer, I love what Paul is doing here. He’s setting up the contrast.
“I lived as a Pharisee. One of the strictest.”
He’s reminding them how serious he was about the law. About purity. Tradition. All of it.
So when he starts preaching Jesus… it’s not just surprising. It’s shocking.
He’s basically saying, “If someone like me turned… something big must have happened.”
And now I stand here on trial because of my hope in the promise made by God to our fathers, to which our twelve tribes hope to attain, as they earnestly worship night and day. And for this hope I am accused by Jews, O king!
What is Paul saying here???
He’s not saying, “I’m on trial because I broke the law.” He’s saying, “I’m on trial for believing the very thing our ancestors longed for.”
That flips everything.
Paul’s saying: “This gospel I’m preaching? It’s the fulfillment of the promise God made from the beginning.”
And not just to him. Every Jewish person, from every tribe, is hoping for the same thing he believes in.
They worship day and night. They long for redemption. They pray for the Messiah.
And Paul’s saying: “I believe He already came.”
Then he says something heartbreaking: “I’m being attacked by my own people for believing the thing we’ve all been waiting for.”
He’s not defiant here. He’s stunned. “How is this what I’m on trial for?”
And then comes the punch to the face:
Why is it thought incredible by any of you that God raises the dead?
Boom.
This is the moment.
Paul’s not arguing, he’s exposing the contradiction.
If you believe in a God who created life… why would raising the dead be too hard for Him?
It’s genius.
And for Agrippa, who knew the Scriptures, it would’ve landed hard.
“I myself was convinced that I ought to do many things in opposing the name of Jesus of Nazareth. And I did so in Jerusalem. I not only locked up many of the saints in prison after receiving authority from the chief priests, but when they were put to death I cast my vote against them.
Paul doesn’t clean it up.
He doesn’t soften what he used to be.
He thought he was doing the right thing. He was convinced Jesus was a threat. A heresy. A lie.
So he fought it. Hard.
“I not only locked up many of the saints in prison… but when they were put to death, I cast my vote against them.”
Man, that line stops me every time.
Paul didn’t just stand by. He voted for death.
He helped drag Christians out of their homes. He threw them in prison. He watched them die, and agreed with it.
And I punished them often in all the synagogues and tried to make them blaspheme, and in raging fury against them I persecuted them even to foreign cities.
Paul wasn’t just arresting believers. He was trying to break them.
He wanted them to deny Jesus.
Notice that Luke doesn’t just say Paul was angry. He uses the phrase “raging fury.”
That tells us something. This was violence boiling over.
Paul wasn’t neutral. He was consumed. Driven by something deeper than logic, deeper than tradition.
This was personal.
He wasn’t just enforcing Jewish law. He was hunting down believers with a rage that was almost rabid.
It makes you wonder: Why did Jesus make Paul so mad?
Because rage like that doesn’t come out of nowhere.
Paul saw the gospel as a threat. To his power. To his tribe. To everything he thought was true.
That’s what Luke wants us to see.
This is confession that sets up what comes next.
“In this connection I journeyed to Damascus with the authority and commission of the chief priests. At midday, O king, I saw on the way a light from heaven, brighter than the sun, that shone around me and those who journeyed with me. And when we had all fallen to the ground, I heard a voice saying to me in the Hebrew language, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me? It is hard for you to kick against the goads.’
Paul tells his conversion story three times in Acts.
Once when it actually happens (Acts 9). Then again to the angry crowd in Jerusalem (Acts 22). And now here, in front of King Agrippa (Acts 26).
Same story. Over and over.
And honestly? I think that says something.
Paul didn’t just teach from the Scriptures. He told his story.
Because sometimes, that’s the most powerful thing we’ve got. Not a sermon. Not a debate. Just the moment Jesus met us.
That’s what our testimony does. It puts Jesus on display. Not our strength. Not our past. Just His grace.
Don’t underestimate your story.
A goad was a sharp stick used by farmers to prod oxen when they were plowing. If the ox kicked back instead of moving forward, it would end up hurting itself—driving the goad in deeper.
So when Jesus says, “It’s hard for you to kick against the goads,” He’s saying:
“You’re fighting Me… and it’s only hurting you.”
Paul had been resisting the truth. Fighting against Jesus. Pushing hard in the wrong direction.
And I said, ‘Who are you, Lord?’ And the Lord said, ‘I am Jesus whom you are persecuting. But rise and stand upon your feet, for I have appeared to you for this purpose, to appoint you as a servant and witness to the things in which you have seen me and to those in which I will appear to you, delivering you from your people and from the Gentiles—to whom I am sending you to open their eyes, so that they may turn from darkness to light and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me.’
Paul is blind.
Physically. Spiritually. Completely undone.
And what does Jesus say?
“I’m sending you… to open their eyes.”
Jesus is asking a blind man to go help others see.
That’s not a mistake. It’s the whole point.
Because this isn’t about Paul’s strength or clarity or worthiness. It’s about what Jesus can do through someone who’s just been wrecked by grace.
He’s saying, “You’re not going to stay here. I’ve got people for you to reach. And I’m going to use you, yes, you, to help them see Me.”
That’s the gospel. Not that we had it all together. But that even in the dark, Jesus called us. And gave us a mission that only makes sense because of what He’s done.
And then this…
that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me.’
That
is
so
rich.
Not just forgiveness. A place.
Not just a clean slate, but belonging.
“Sanctified by faith in Me.”
Set apart.
Made holy.
Not by effort.
Not by law.
By faith in Jesus.
That’s it. That’s the dividing line, right?
The ones who are set apart? They’re not the ones who got it all right. They’re the ones who trusted Him.
“Therefore, O King Agrippa, I was not disobedient to the heavenly vision,
They accused him of turning on his people. Of going rogue. Of abandoning the faith.
But Paul says the exact opposite.
“I was doing what God told me to do.”
but declared first to those in Damascus, then in Jerusalem and throughout all the region of Judea, and also to the Gentiles, that they should repent and turn to God, performing deeds in keeping with their repentance.
That right there is the message.
Repent.
Turn from sin.
Turn to God.
Let your life show it.
Not just words. Not just a moment at an altar.
But actions that match a changed heart. Live a life that matches your repentance.
Paul isn’t preaching salvation by works. He’s saying, if your heart really changed, your life will too.
Our choices. Our priorities. Our daily walk.
It should all look different.
We’ll wrap up Chapter 26 next week. I’m running out the door to watch a movie with my beautiful wife and 5 littles.
I love you,
George
Uncovering Scripture
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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.