The Kingdom Is Still Growing Today

There was no indication that this neighborhood was any different from the blocks surrounding it. But as I rounded the corner, the close-packed stone buildings abruptly gave way to the sprawling grounds of a ruined ancient church. And there on the edge of the site was a five-foot-tall marble pillar. As I stood before it, I was overcome with emotion as I realized that the apostle Paul had also stood there. 

Acts 13 details the start of Paul’s first missionary journey. Commissioned by the church in Antioch, Paul and Barnabas set off to preach the gospel, and their first stop is Cyprus, Barnabas’s home island (Acts 13:1–3). They preach their way across the island, eventually ending up in Paphos, where Paul is opposed by a Jewish sorcerer, Elymas (Acts 13:4–12). Scripture records the details of the confrontation between Paul and Elymas, ending with the Holy Spirit’s temporarily blinding Elymas for opposing Paul. But church history also tells us that Elymas had Paul bound and whipped. 

As I stood on that ancient street in Paphos, looking at the very marble pillar to which Paul had been chained, I had a deep sense of being part of something much larger than myself. Even though the events of the book of Acts have ended, its story has not.

The Story Is Not Over

The story of God’s growing kingdom continues today. You and I are just as much part of God’s plan to see his kingdom come as Paul and Barnabas were. 

But if I’m honest, most of the time it doesn’t feel that way. Paul and Barnabas were heroes of the faith. They endured hardship and persecution, all while exercising daring faith to proclaim the gospel in dangerous places. Me? The biggest hardship I face on a regular basis is an overflowing inbox and too many meetings. I’m eager to share my faith . . . but only with those who look like me and act like me and who won’t judge me as being “too religious.” Much of the time my life doesn’t seem to be part of some grand narrative of redemption. It just seems like an endless parade of busy days. 

Every so often, usually in January, I think to myself, “Wait a minute! Life is supposed to be more than just being busy and going to work and church.” So I set out with fresh hope and an armload of resolutions. I’m going to eat better, be more active, spend more time with people who don’t yet know Jesus, and maybe even learn Italian. And things change—for a few weeks, anyway.

I have a friend who says that resolutions never work because what rules your heart ruins your resolution. He’s right, of course. When Paul confronted Elymas, it wasn’t because he had more willpower or was better at making resolutions to do evangelism than I am—though to be fair he probably was. It was because Paul could see with his eyes of faith what often eludes me: we serve a King who set aside his royal privilege to live with us, die for us, and rise for us so that we could be saved from everything that rules and ruins our hearts. That reality—of Christ seeking and saving the lost—was the sole focus of Paul’s life. It’s what compelled him to live out a grace-changed life.

Living Life Like Paul

So if our resolution, on its own, isn’t enough to change us, how do we cultivate the same mindset that Paul had? Oddly enough, I think the key has more to do with desperation than with determination. Becoming aware of our profound need for Jesus in every aspect of our lives and learning to see how God works in and through our weakness is essential. Discipline—my effort, my willpower, my resolution—often fails to accomplish what desperation readily does. Why? Because I don’t have to try to be desperate. It doesn’t take any heroic effort to feel overloaded and overwhelmed. Every day my fallen heart gets there all on its own. And it’s precisely here that the Holy Spirit wants to work. If I can learn to see my desperation for what it really is—a lack of trust that my heavenly Father will take care of me—then it gives me the opportunity to practice repentance and faith. I can stop trying to make life work on my own terms and instead run to the only one who can comfort me. 

We see this pattern over and over in Paul’s life. His boldness and endurance rest on his willingness to let the Holy Spirit lead him when he’s facing opposition, persecution, imprisonment, and even death. In reflecting on all these trials, and in particular what Paul describes in 2 Corinthians 12 as “a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan” (v. 7 niv), Jesus says something remarkable to Paul: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (v. 9). Paul’s strength came from learning to rely wholly on God’s power and not his own grit and determination. God’s grace is always enough, and the power of that grace is unleashed in our weakness.

Relying on God’s Power

One of the best ways to learn how to rely on God’s power and grace is stepping out of your comfort zone. If you’ve ever had the chance to go on a short-term mission trip, you’ll know what I mean. When the language, culture, food, and people are radically different from what you are used to, you don’t need to make an extra effort to talk with Jesus. You do it all the time because you have to navigate a world you aren’t used to. Our desperation makes plain how much we need God every minute of every day and drives us back into the open arms of our Savior.  

Of course, you don’t need to go around the world to experience this. You can tap into your spiritual need just by loving others around you. Sometimes walking across the street to love someone on behalf of Jesus can be scarier than getting on a plane to do so. Our Dad delights in using weak, needy people to draw others to himself through his Holy Spirit. He uses scared people like Peter as bold witnesses (Acts 2:14–41) and works through our suffering to bring about his glory, as he did when Stephen was stoned (Acts 7). He draws the most unlikely people to himself, such as an Ethiopian eunuch (Acts 8), and breaks down the seemingly insurmountable human barriers between Peter—a Jew—and Cornelius, a Gentile (Acts 10).  

In the process of doing all this, he transforms the messengers too. As Christians we still need the same life-giving good news of God’s grace that those who haven’t yet met Jesus need. Our need holds the key to our transformation, if we’ll let it lead us back to where we belong: the safety and security of our Dad’s arms. So here’s to 2025 being a deeply transformative year for you and me—one filled with God’s grace and love because we allowed the Holy Spirit to use the difficult things in our lives to make God’s power perfect in us.

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