Homily 36 — Acts 16, verses 25 to 40

“And at midnight Paul and Silas prayed and sang praises to God, and the prisoners heard them. And suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken; and immediately all the doors were opened, and everyone’s chains were unfastened.” [a]

What could equal these souls? These men had been flogged; they had received many blows; they had been mistreated; their lives were in danger; they had been thrust into the inner prison and fastened in the stocks. And for all this they did not let themselves sleep, but kept vigil all night long. Do you see what a blessing distress is? But we, in our soft beds, with no one to be afraid of, pass the whole night asleep.

But perhaps this is the very reason they kept vigil: because they were in this condition. The tyranny of sleep could not overpower them, the sting of pain could not bend them, the fear of what might come could not throw them into helpless dejection. No, these were the very things that kept them awake, and they were even filled with overflowing delight.

“At midnight,” it says, “and the prisoners were listening to them.” It was so strange and surprising! “And suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken, and immediately all the doors were opened, and everyone’s chains were unfastened. And the keeper of the prison, waking out of his sleep and seeing the prison doors open, drew his sword and was about to kill himself, supposing that the prisoners had escaped” (verse 27). There was an earthquake so that the keeper would be roused from sleep, and the doors flew open so that he would wonder at what had happened. But the prisoners did not see these things; otherwise they would all have fled. The keeper of the prison, though, was about to kill himself, thinking the prisoners had escaped. “But Paul cried out with a loud voice, saying, ‘Do yourself no harm, for we are all here’” (verse 28). [b]

“Then he called for lights, and rushed in, and came trembling, and fell down before Paul and Silas; and he brought them out and said, ‘Sirs, what must I do to be saved?’” (verses 29 and 30). Do you see how the wonder overpowered him? He wondered even more at Paul’s kindness. He was amazed at his manly courage: that he had not escaped when it was in his power, and that he kept him from killing himself. “And they said, ‘Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved, and your household.’”

“And they spoke the word of the Lord to him and to all who were in his house” (verses 31 and 32). And so at once they gave proof of their kindness toward him. “And he took them the same hour of the night and washed their wounds; and he was baptized at once, he and all his household” (verse 33). He washed them, and he himself was baptized, he and his house. “And when he had brought them into his house, he set food before them, and rejoiced, believing in God with all his household. And when it was day, the magistrates sent the officers, saying, ‘Let those men go’” (verses 34 and 35). It is likely the magistrates had learned what had happened, and did not dare to dismiss them themselves.

“And the keeper of the prison reported these words to Paul, saying, ‘The magistrates have sent word to let you go. So now leave, and go in peace.’ But Paul said to them, ‘They have beaten us publicly, without a trial, men who are Romans, and have thrown us into prison; and now are they throwing us out secretly? No indeed! Let them come themselves and bring us out.’ And the officers reported these words to the magistrates, and they were afraid when they heard that they were Romans. And they came and pleaded with them, and brought them out, and asked them to leave the city. And they went out of the prison and entered the house of Lydia; and when they had seen the brothers and sisters, they encouraged them, and departed” (verses 36 to 40).

Even at the magistrates’ declaration Paul does not go out. For the sake both of Lydia and of the rest he puts the magistrates in fear, so that it would not be thought that they had come out at their own request, and so that they might put the rest in a position of confidence. The charge was twofold: that they had publicly thrown them into prison, men who were “Romans,” and “without a trial.” You see that in many things they took their measures as ordinary men would.

“And at midnight,” and so on (verse 25). Let us compare, beloved, that night with these nights of ours: nights of wild parties, drunkenness and loose living, with their sleep that might as well be death, and their waking hours that are worse than sleep. For while some sleep without sense or feeling, others lie awake for pitiful and wretched ends: plotting deceptions, worrying anxiously about money, studying how they may take revenge on those who have wronged them, brooding on their hatreds, counting over the insults spoken during the day. So they rake up the smoldering embers of anger, and do things that cannot be borne. [c]

Notice how Peter slept (Acts 12, verse 6). There it was wisely arranged that he should be asleep, for the angel came to him, and it was necessary that no one should see what happened. And here, on the other hand, it was well arranged that Paul should be awake, so that the keeper of the prison could be kept from killing himself.

“And suddenly there was a great earthquake” (verse 26). And why did no other miracle take place? Because this, above all others, was the thing sufficient for his conversion, since he himself was in danger. For it is not miracles so much that overpower us as the things that end in our own deliverance. And so that the earthquake would not seem to have happened of itself, there was this further circumstance bearing witness to it: “the doors were opened, and all their chains were unfastened.” And it happens at night, for the apostles did not work for display, but for people’s salvation. “And the keeper of the prison,” and so on

(verse 27). The keeper was not an ill-natured man. That he “thrust them into the inner prison” (verse 24) was because he had “received such a command,” not of his own accord. The man was in a complete tumult of alarm. [e]

“What should I do to be saved?” he asks. Why not before this? Paul shouted out before he could see, and got in ahead of him, saying, “We are all here.”

“And having called for lights,” it says, “he rushed in, and fell down at the feet” of the prisoner — he, the keeper of the prison! — saying, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” (verses 28 to 30). Why, what had they said to him? Notice: on finding himself safe he does not think all is well; he is overcome with awe at the miraculous power.

Do you see what happened in the earlier case, and what happens here? There a girl was set free from a spirit, and they threw them into prison because they had set her free from the spirit. Here they only showed the doors standing open, and it opened the doors of his heart. It loosed two kinds of chains. The prisoner kindled the true light, for the light in his heart was shining. “And he rushed in and fell down before them.” And he does not ask, “How did this happen? What is this?” but at once he says, “What must I do to be saved?”

What then does Paul answer? “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved, you and your household” (verse 31). For this above all wins people: that their household too should be saved. “And they spoke the word to him and to all who were in his house. And he took them the same hour of the night and washed their wounds,” and so on (verses 32 and 33). He washed them and was washed: he washed them from their wounds, and he himself was washed from his sins. He fed them and was fed. “And he rejoiced,” it says — although there was nothing but words alone and good hopes — “having believed in God with all his household” (verse 34). This was the sign that he had believed: that he was set free from everything. What is worse than a jailer? What more ruthless, more savage?

He entertained them with great honor. He did not make merry because he was safe, but because he had believed God. “Believe in the Lord,” the apostle had said; that is why the writer says here, “having believed.” [g]

“Now therefore,” it says, “leave, and go in peace” (verse 36) — that is, in safety, afraid of no one. “But Paul said to them” (verse 37) — so that he would not seem to be receiving his freedom as a condemned man, as one who had done wrong. That is why he says, “They have beaten us publicly, without a trial,” and so on — so that it would not be a favor granted on their part.

And besides, they want the jailer himself to be out of danger, so that he would not be called to account for this afterwards. And they do not say, “They have beaten us, who have worked miracles,” for the magistrates paid no attention even to these. They say what was most effective to shake their minds: “without a trial, and men who are Romans.” Notice how differently grace arranges things: how Peter went out, and how Paul, though both were apostles.

“They were afraid,” it says (verse 38) — because the men were Romans, not because they had unjustly thrown them into prison. “And they pleaded with them to leave the city” (verse 39): they begged it of them as a favor. And they went to Lydia’s house, and having strengthened her, they departed. For it was not right to leave their hostess in distress and anxiety. But they left, not in compliance with the request of those rulers, but hurrying on to the preaching, since the city had been benefited enough by the miracle. For it was fitting that they should not stay there any longer. When those who worked it were gone, the miracle appeared greater, crying out more loudly by itself: the faith of the jailer was a voice in itself.

What equals this? He is put in chains, and while bound he sets free. He looses a double bond: the man who bound him, he sets free by being bound. These are truly the works of grace. Let us keep this jailer constantly in mind — not the miracle, but how the apostle, prisoner as he was, won over his jailer.

What do the pagans say? “And what was there to persuade a man like that of? He was a vile, wretched creature, with no understanding, full of everything bad and nothing else, and easily won over to anything. For these are the ones who believed: a tanner, a purple-seller, a eunuch, slaves and women.” This is what they say. What then will they be able to say when we bring forward the men of rank and position — the centurion, the proconsul, and those from that time to the present, the rulers themselves, the emperors? But for my part I speak of something else, greater than this: let us look at these very people of no account. “And where is the wonder?” Why, this, I say, is the wonder. If a person is persuaded about ordinary things, it is no wonder. But if the subjects are resurrection, a kingdom of heaven, a life of philosophy and mastery of oneself, and one speaks of these to people of low standing and persuades them, that is more wonderful than persuading wise men.

For when there is no danger attending the things of which one persuades people, then an objector might with some plausibility allege their lack of sense. But when the preacher says — to the slave, as you would have it — “If you are persuaded by me, it is at your peril: you will have everyone for your enemy, you must die, you must suffer evils without number,” and yet for all this he wins that man’s soul, there can be no more talk here of lack of sense. If the teachings held out what was pleasant, one might fairly say this. But if the slave learns what the philosophers would never have chosen to learn, then the wonder is greater.

And if you like, let us bring before us the tanner himself, and see what subjects Peter talked over with him — or, if you like, this same jailer. What did Paul say to him? “That Christ rose again, that there is a resurrection of the dead, and a kingdom. And he had no difficulty persuading him, a man easily led to anything.”

How so? Did he say nothing about the way one must live: that he must be self-controlled, that he must rise above money, that he must not be unmerciful, that he must share his good things with others? For it cannot be said that being persuaded of these things too came from weakness of mind. No, to be brought to all this required a great soul. Grant that, as far as the teachings went, they were made readier to receive them by their lack of intelligence. But to accept so virtuous and self-denying a rule of life — how could that come from any defect of understanding? [j]

So the less understanding a person has, if he is nevertheless persuaded of things of which even philosophers could not persuade their fellow philosophers, the greater the wonder. Women and slaves are persuaded of these truths and prove it by their actions — the very truths of which men like Plato and all the rest of them could never persuade anyone.

And why do I say “anyone”? Say rather, not even themselves. On the contrary: that money is not to be despised, Plato taught his followers by acquiring so great an abundance of property, and gold rings and goblets. And that the honor the crowd gives is not to be despised, Socrates himself shows, however endlessly he may philosophize on this point, for in everything he did he had an eye to fame. If you were familiar with his discourses, I could go into this at great length and show how much pretense there was in them — if at least we may believe what his disciple says of him — and how all his writings have their groundwork in empty glory.

But let us leave them and turn the discourse to ourselves. For besides what has been said, there is this also to add: people were persuaded of these things at their own peril. So do not be shameless yourself; let us think over that night, the stocks, and the hymns of praise. Let us do this too, and we will open for ourselves not a prison, but heaven. If we pray, we will be able to open even heaven. Elijah both shut and opened heaven by prayer (James 5, verse 17). There is a prison in heaven too.

“Whatever you bind on earth,” he says, “will be bound in heaven” (Matthew 16, verse 19). Let us pray at night, and we will loose these bonds. For that prayers loose sins, let that widow convince us; let that friend convince us, who at that untimely hour of the night keeps on and knocks (Luke 11, verse 5). Let Cornelius convince us, for “your prayers,” it says, “and your alms have gone up before God” (Acts 10, verse 4). Let Paul convince us, who says, “Now she who is a widow indeed, and left all alone, trusts in God and continues in petitions night and day” (First Timothy 5, verse 5). If he speaks this way of a widow, a weak woman, how much more would he of men! [m]

I have spoken to you about this before, and now I say it again: let us rouse ourselves at night. Even if you do not make many prayers, make one with watchfulness, and it is enough; I ask no more. And if not at midnight, then at least at first dawn. Show that the night is not only for the body but also for the soul. Do not let it pass idly, but make this return to your Master — or rather, the benefit itself returns to you.

Tell me, if we fall into some difficult strait, whom do we not ask for help? And if we quickly get what we ask, we breathe freely again. What a blessing it would be for you to have a friend to go to with your request, who would be ready to take it as a kindness and to feel obliged to you for asking! What a blessing not to have to go around looking for someone to ask, but to find one ready, and to have no need of others to plead for you! What could be greater than this? For here is One who does the most for us precisely when we make our requests to no one but himself — just as a sincere friend complains of us most for not trusting his friendship when we ask others to make our request to him. Let us act this way too. “But what if I have offended him?” Stop giving offense, and weep, and so draw near to him, and you will quickly win his favor with regard to your past sins. Only say, “I have offended.” Say it from your soul and with a sincere mind, and everything is forgiven you. You do not desire your sins to be forgiven as much as he desires to forgive you your sins.

To prove that you do not desire it as much, consider that you have no mind either to keep vigils or to give your money freely. But he, so that he might forgive our sins, did not spare his only Son, his true-born Son, who shares his throne. Do you see how he desires to forgive you your sins more than you desire to be forgiven? So let us not be lazy, and let us not put this off any longer. He is merciful and good; only let us give him an opportunity. And even this he seeks only so that we may not become useless, since even without it he could have freed us from our sins. Just as we, for the same reason, devise and arrange many tasks for our servants to do, so does he in the matter of our salvation. “Let us be first to come before his face with thanksgiving” (Psalm 95, verse 2), since he is good and kind. But if you do not call on him, what will he do? [n]

You do not choose to say, “Forgive.” You will not say it from your heart, but only with your mouth. What is it to call on him in truth? To call with purpose of heart, with earnestness, with a sincere mind — just as people say of perfumes, “This is genuine, and has nothing fake in it,” so it is here. The one who truly calls on him, who truly prays to him, keeps at it continually and does not stop until he obtains his request. But the one who does it merely as a formality, and even this only to fulfill a law, does not call in truth.

Whoever you are, do not only say, “I am a sinner,” but be eager also to rid yourself of that character. Do not only say this, but grieve too. If you grieve, you are in earnest; if you are not in earnest, you do not grieve; if you do not grieve, you are trifling. What sort of man would say, “I am sick,” and not do everything to be freed from his sickness?

Prayer is a mighty weapon. “If you,” says the Lord, “know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more your Father?” (Luke 11, verse 13). Then why are you unwilling to come to him? He loves you; he is more powerful than all besides. He is both willing and able; what is there to hinder? Nothing. But then, on our part, let us draw near with faith; let us draw near offering the gifts he desires: forgetting wrongs, kindness, gentleness. Even if you are a sinner, you will ask him boldly for the forgiveness of your sins, if you can show that you have done this yourself. But even if you are righteous and do not have this virtue of forgetting injuries, you are none the better for it. It cannot be that a man who has forgiven his neighbor will not obtain complete forgiveness, for God is beyond comparison more merciful than we are.

What do you say? If you say, “I have been wronged, I have mastered my anger, I have endured the onset of rage because of your command — and will you not forgive?” he will most surely forgive, and this is plain to everyone. So let us cleanse our soul of all resentment. This is enough for us to be heard. And let us pray with watching and much perseverance, so that, having enjoyed his generous mercy, we may be found worthy of the good things promised, through the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, might, and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.