This would be his final hill. The one he died on. Literally and metaphorically. The place he would live his last day, write his last letter, eat his last meal, make his last stand. Prison. It wasn’t his first incarceration. It would be his last. This dark, dank cell on death row would be his final earthly home. The letter he was currently composing would be his last. It would carry the same underlying message of every letter he had ever written. Stay faithful. Stay alert. Stay focused. Keep preaching the unadulterated gospel of Jesus Christ. In the face of punishment, persecution, prison, and peril, know this, the word of God cannot be chained, confined, or cancelled. It lives on in the hearts and lives of the people in which it has taken root. They may arrest and imprison believers in a futile attempt to silence them, but the gospel itself will wind merrily throughout the world on the tongues of those who know Jesus. An unchained melody, busily changing lives with or without the authorities’ permission. Paul knew it. Every apostle knew it. They had lived it.
They had all spent time in prison. Many prisons. Much time. Not everyone wanted to hear what they had to say. Not everyone wanted to believe. Often, they were accused of being irrational, insane, insurrectionists, and iconoclasts. Preaching the gospel would do that. Alienate society. They still chose to preach it. Because they had found it to be true. Salvation through faith in the shed blood of Jesus Christ changed lives. For the better. They were living examples of the fact. Especially Paul.
He’d lived on both sides of that particular fence. Like a bloodthirsty animal, he spent the first part of his adult life hunting down followers of Jesus. Arresting them. Imprisoning them. Persecuting them. He told himself he was doing something honourable. Working for a worthwhile cause. Until his Damascus road experience. Until he was literally blinded by the light of Christ. Until he opened his mind and heart to God. Meeting Jesus changed his life. Now here he was, in prison for preaching the gospel, writing a second letter to Timothy, facing execution for what he believed. Some would say he was crazy for not recanting and saving his own neck. He didn’t think so. He knew the truth. The spread of the gospel wouldn’t be stopped by his death any more than it would be by his renunciation. That would harm only him. It couldn’t touch the gospel. Because the gospel wasn’t chained, imprisoned, or facing imminent demise. It couldn’t be. It would never be stopped. And Paul wasn’t willing to trade his eternal soul for his aging, earthly body. (Acts 8:1,3; 9:1-31; II Timothy 2:9)
John the Baptist had felt the same. Incarcerated for speaking out against the egregious actions of Herod, he absolutely wasn’t willing to recant. At all. No matter how badly Herod’s new wife wanted him to. No matter how friendly he and Herod became in their frequent conversations. John didn’t change his opinion to absolve Herod of adultery. Not to appease the authorities. Not to get released from prison. Not to save his own neck. Literally. John stood firmly in his beliefs, held his standards, honored the word of God. All of it. It would be his final hill. He’d die there. Holding to the truth of the gospel. Never moving. Never changing. Never reneging. And, although Herod found him intriguing, it wasn’t enough to save him. Eventually, Herod’s wife contrived a way to force his death. Not because he was a bad person. Not because he was endangering society. Not because he was threatening a coup. Because of the hill he stood on. The one where men remained faithful to their wives even when someone prettier, shapelier, or more enticing came along. (Mark 6:14-29)
Many people would say John should have used different words. Stated things in a calmer, kinder, less accusatory way. Perhaps it would have saved his life. If he would have soft-pedalled sin or short-sold the gospel. If he had added to or subtracted from the message he was put on earth to preach. They thought he was crazy to risk his life for something he couldn’t prove with tangible evidence. He wasn’t. He was free. Unchained from the immoral, unethical ideals of his day. Free from the weight of the legalistic rules religious leaders had invented to control people and judge their hearts. John’s death didn’t kill the spread of the gospel any more than his incarceration tied it down. His chains and bars couldn’t hold back the spread of the good news of salvation. Because the gospel can’t be chained. Even when people think you are unhinged for believing it. Even when they think you are ridiculous for preaching it. Even when folks say you are crazy for spreading it. Even when it means risking it all to follow it.
Peter was a man who knew a lot about risking it all to follow Jesus. His reputation. His body. His life. Having done his bout of denying Christ and fleeing at the thought of persecution, Peter repented and came back stronger than ever. The Peter in the book of Acts is nothing like the one who stood warming his hands at the fire outside Pilate’s judgment hall, actively denying he even knew Jesus. The rejuvenated, rededicated Peter was completely sold out, totally surrendered to God. He was zealous about preaching the message of salvation by faith, carrying it wherever and to whomever God sent him. Even when people thought he was delusional or drunk. (Acts 10)
Onlookers accused him of that very thing. Being drunk. Accused them all of it, actually. All 120 believers present at Pentecost. After the tongues of fire had fallen. After the mighty wind blew. After the Holy Spirit came to inhabit God’s people, they began sharing the gospel in more than a dozen languages and dialects. After the crowds gathered around, drawn by the words of salvation spoken in their native tongue. Seeing the attention they were getting, watching the crowd receiving their message, skeptical spectators scoffed and accused them of being drunk. At 9 in the morning.
Peter wasn’t having it. He wasn’t allowing their lies. He certainly wasn’t drunk. None of them were. Their minds were sharper than ever. Their hearts were more in tune with Jesus than before. Their lips were more eager to speak the words of salvation to all who would listen. And Peter had words to say. To the gathering crowd eager to listen. To the naysayers in the back, there to taunt and heckle. Peter had a message to preach. Not one the belligerent bullies would necessarily want to hear. It pointed fingers. Laid bare stark truths. Told a few people off. His words brought conviction in people’s hearts to the point they asked what they should do to amend their ways. And Peter told them. Repent. Be baptized. Receive the Holy Spirit. They did. Much to the annoyance of the ones who thought they were drunk. (Acts 2)
It wouldn’t be the last time adversity followed Peter’s preaching. Often in the form of incarceration. Many times he was arrested, jailed, beaten, and warned not to preach the gospel. Every time his answer was the same. He would obey God. He would preach the message. He would spread the gospel. Amid threats and beatings, arrests and imprisonments, Peter continued to speak out because he knew what the authorities didn’t. The word of God would not, could not be chained or contained. No matter what scholars and religious authorities believed, they would never be able to chain the gospel, tie it down, hide it away, or drown it out by imprisoning the preachers. No. Even in prison, the apostles sang and prayed and praised because they knew the truth. The gospel could not be stopped by prison walls, iron bars, chains, shackles, stocks, or armed guards.
The authorities tried all those things and more. Both Stephen and James were executed. Nothing changed. The more they tried to annihilate and incarcerate the gospel, the more it spread. Sometimes through casual conversation. Sometimes through persecution and displacement. Sometimes through the miraculous. Like Peter, heavily guarded and chained to two soldiers, being woken from sleep and safely escorted out of prison by an angel of God. Like Paul and Silas being freed from stocks, their prison doors opened, the way paved for their release by an enormous earthquake. Never once did attempts at silencing the voices promoting and providing the truth ever succeed. They couldn’t. Nothing the authorities did could ever change the fact that the gospel would spread throughout the entire world. Every part of it. News of Jesus shed blood on the cross for the forgiveness of humanity’s sins covered the known world like wildfire. It couldn’t be contained. It couldn’t be chained. No amount of watering down could stop it. Not then. Not now. (Acts 7:57-60; 8:2,4; 12:1-11; 16:16-40)
You see, friend, Nothing has really changed since Peter and Paul and the rest of the apostles travelled and preached the gospel. Not in the truth of its teachings. Not in society’s response. People are still trying to chain it up. Box it in. Mitigate its authority. Lessen its reach. Mostly, they want to water it down. Change it. Alter it just enough to be palatable. Much like Herod and his wife. They wanted a gospel that would approve their actions. John couldn’t give it to them. He could only speak the truth. The religious authorities throughout Acts wanted the same thing. Something pleasant and appealing with few requirements and no rules. The apostles didn’t have that. They had only the truth of the gospel to give. Centuries later, our society wants the same thing. They are a living, breathing enactment of Paul’s words to Timothy. They don’t want real truth, solid doctrine, Biblical teachings. They want a desirable, easy way that approves every desire of their evil hearts. They want their own way, but Heaven too. (II Timothy 4:3)
It doesn’t work like that. You know it. I know it. The gospel cannot be put in a box. It cannot be modified to fit the desires of society. The word of God stands as written. Its rules and requirements are not up for debate, interpretation, or alteration. Even if they seem silly, superfluous, or stringent. They aren’t. They are guards for your soul. You need them. You need to follow them. Salvation through faith and obedience to God’s laws are the only way to gain eternal life. That’s the truth of the gospel. The unchained gospel. The gospel that flows in and through every society that has ever and will ever grace the earth. It will never die, never be silenced. The unchained gospel will wind its way into hearts and lives, freeing captives of sin to live in the freedom of Christ. (Galatians 5:1; Acts 10:43; Proverbs 7:2; Deuteronomy 4:2; Hebrews 5:9)
So preach the word. Share the gospel. Spread the good news of salvation through Jesus Christ, no matter what people say about you. No matter what they think. No matter if they agree or disagree. No matter if they tag you as a fanatic, a zealot, irrational, or unhinged. Stay the course. Stay faithful. Stay alert. Stay focused. Don’t capitulate to the calls to dilute the message. Don’t edit the truth. Don’t offer substitutions to appease society. Speak truth and let the gospel do its own work. It will. It always has. It is the unchained power of God to bring the freedom of salvation to every person who dares to believe.
Unchained gospel.
Changed lives.
Freed people.
Are you one?
(II Timothy 1:8; 2:24-25; I Peter 4:16; I Corinthians 16:13; Isaiah 5:20)