In the grand city of Caesarea, under the watchful gaze of the Mediterranean Sea, the Roman governor Festus sat in his opulent hall, surrounded by the elite of the region. The air was thick with anticipation as King Agrippa and his sister Bernice arrived in great pomp, their entourage a spectacle of wealth and power. Festus had summoned them to hear the case of a man whose name had become synonymous with controversy—Paul of Tarsus.
Paul, once a zealous persecutor of the followers of Jesus, now stood as a prisoner, bound in chains yet unshaken in spirit. His journey had been one of dramatic transformation, and now he found himself before the rulers of the land, ready to testify once more to the truth he had come to embrace.
The hall was adorned with marble columns and golden trimmings, the floor polished to a mirror-like sheen. Festus, seated on his elevated throne, addressed King Agrippa with a tone of respect and curiosity. “King Agrippa,” he began, “this man, Paul, has been accused by the Jewish leaders of crimes deserving death. Yet, I find no fault in him worthy of such a sentence. Since he has appealed to Caesar, I have decided to send him to Rome. But before he departs, I thought it fitting to present him before you, for I am at a loss as to what to write to the emperor regarding his charges.”
Agrippa, a man well-versed in Jewish customs and traditions, nodded thoughtfully. He turned to Paul, who stood before him, his chains clinking softly as he shifted his weight. “You have permission to speak for yourself,” Agrippa declared, his voice carrying the authority of a king.
Paul, though physically bound, stood tall, his eyes alight with a fire that no chains could extinguish. He raised his hand, not in defiance but in a gesture of earnestness, and began to speak. “King Agrippa, I consider myself fortunate to stand before you today to defend myself against all the accusations of the Jews. Especially so because you are well acquainted with all the Jewish customs and controversies. Therefore, I beg you to listen to me patiently.”
The room fell silent, every ear attuned to the words of this unassuming prisoner. Paul’s voice, though not loud, carried a weight that commanded attention. “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 lived as a Pharisee. 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. It is for this hope, O king, that I am being accused by Jews!”
Paul’s words hung in the air, a challenge to the very foundations of the accusations against him. He continued, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “Why is it thought incredible by any of you that God raises the dead? 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. And I punished them often in all the synagogues and tried to make them blaspheme. In raging fury against them, I persecuted them even to foreign cities.”
The room was spellbound as Paul recounted his past, a past marked by violence and zeal against the very faith he now proclaimed. But then his tone shifted, and his eyes seemed to gaze into a distant memory. “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’s voice trembled with emotion as he relived the moment that had changed his life forever. “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.'”
The hall was utterly still, the weight of Paul’s testimony pressing upon every heart. He continued, his voice now filled with a passion that could not be contained. “Therefore, O King Agrippa, I was not disobedient to the heavenly vision, 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. For this reason, the Jews seized me in the temple and tried to kill me. To this day I have had the help that comes from God, and so I stand here testifying both to small and great, saying nothing but what the prophets and Moses said would come to pass: that the Christ must suffer and that, by being the first to rise from the dead, he would proclaim light both to our people and to the Gentiles.”
As Paul concluded his defense, Festus, unable to contain his astonishment, interrupted with a loud voice, “Paul, you are out of your mind! Your great learning is driving you insane!”
But Paul, undeterred, turned to Festus with a calm yet firm demeanor. “I am not out of my mind, most excellent Festus, but I am speaking true and rational words. For the king knows about these things, and to him I speak boldly. For I am persuaded that none of these things has escaped his notice, for this has not been done in a corner. King Agrippa, do you believe the prophets? I know that you believe.”
Agrippa, caught off guard by Paul’s direct question, replied with a mixture of amusement and unease, “In a short time would you persuade me to be a Christian?”
Paul’s response was immediate and filled with a deep longing for Agrippa’s salvation. “Whether short or long, I would to God that not only you but also all who hear me this day might become such as I am—except for these chains.”
The room erupted in murmurs as the rulers and dignitaries discussed Paul’s words among themselves. Agrippa, Festus, and Bernice withdrew to a private chamber, their faces a mixture of awe and bewilderment. “This man is doing nothing to deserve death or imprisonment,” Agrippa confessed to Festus. “If he had not appealed to Caesar, he could have been set free.”
And so, Paul remained in custody, his chains a testament to his unwavering commitment to the gospel. Yet, even in his imprisonment, he was free—free in spirit, free in truth, and free to proclaim the name of Jesus to all who would listen. The story of Paul’s defense before Agrippa would echo through the ages, a powerful reminder of the transformative power of the gospel and the unyielding courage of those who bear witness to the light of Christ.
