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Extra Ordinary Series
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Connected by scripture or shared themes.
Extra Ordinary Series
Continue exploring
Connected by scripture or shared themes.
We're continuing in the book of Acts, looking at chapters six and seven. In those days, as the number of disciples increased, the Hellenistic Jews complained against the Hebraic Jews because their widows were being overlooked in the daily distribution of food. The apostles said it would not be right for them to neglect the ministry of the word to wait on tables, so they told the believers:
"Choose seven men from among you who are known to be full of the Spirit and wisdom. We will turn this responsibility over to them and will give our attention to prayer and the ministry of the word."
This pleased the whole group, and they chose Stephen — a man full of faith and of the Holy Spirit — along with six others. The apostles prayed and laid hands on them, and the word of God spread rapidly. Even a number of priests became obedient to the faith.
Stephen, "a man full of God's grace and power," performed great wonders among the people. Opposition arose from members of the synagogue who argued with him but could not stand against the wisdom the Spirit gave him. So they produced false witnesses and dragged him before the Sanhedrin. And there, as all eyes fixed on him, "they saw that his face was like the face of an angel."
History tells us that in the two centuries following these events, the church grew from a handful of believers to around 400,000 — without airplanes, without technology, simply through ordinary people witnessing on foot. Stephen stands out as one of the greatest leaders in the Bible, even though his life was cut short so abruptly. He was the first Christian martyr — the word martyr means witness — and his death was instrumental in the conversion of the apostle Paul.
Stephen was full of God's Spirit. If we're honest, could we say the same of ourselves? What are we full of? Sometimes I'm not so much full of God's Spirit as I am full of irrational fears, health anxiety, resentment — or, quite honestly, full of crisps.
Picture a cup of coffee filled right to the top. Add more, and it spills over. Whatever fills us will overflow when life squeezes us. Under pressure, some of us snap in anger; some are gripped by fear. Stephen shows us what it looks like when a person is filled with Christ — because Christ is what comes out when he's squeezed by persecution.
Stephen wasn't suddenly spiritual when trouble arrived — he was already full of the Spirit before the crisis began. The pressure simply revealed what was already inside him. In his dying prayer, we see him praying for the very people who are persecuting him — an incredible display of the fruit of the Spirit.
How do we get that kind of strength? We want it, but we easily neglect the habits that produce it. Life is noisy, full of scrolling and distraction. It's easy to spend five minutes on a verse for the day, feel good about it, and then spend the rest of the day completely disconnected from the Lord. No wonder anxiety is often louder than faith.
The battles of public faithfulness are won in the private place of prayer — in the secret place where we worship alone, cry alone, and grow familiar with the Holy Spirit's voice long before any trial arrives. Stephen's strength was cultivated well before he stood before the Sanhedrin.
Stephen's shining face echoes Moses coming down from receiving the Ten Commandments, and Jesus on the cross. He's in good company. Everyone noticed something different about Stephen, in private and in public — it was written all over his face that he was full of God.
To be filled with the Spirit means to be consistently controlled by the Holy Spirit — guided, controlled, and empowered by Him. Paul contrasts this in Romans 8:
"Those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace."
Stephen wasn't only practically gifted — organizing food distribution for widows — he was also deeply versed in Scripture, teaching and preaching with wisdom. His opponents in the synagogue could not withstand the wisdom and the Spirit with which he spoke. Some scholars even suggest Saul may have been part of that debate — quietened by this man of God.
Have you ever experienced that moment when words come out of your mouth in conversation and you think, that wasn't me — that was the Holy Spirit? That's the feeling of being used as a vessel for something beyond yourself.
Many religious leaders — Jewish priests — were becoming Christians at this time. This alarmed the establishment, so they accused Stephen of blasphemy against Moses and God, bringing false witnesses to secure his execution.
This brings us to our second mark of Stephen's character: he was faithful, standing firm for the truth.
If you've ever stood in a river or the sea with a strong current, you know that drifting takes no effort at all — but standing firm requires strength. It's the same spiritually. Culture constantly pushes us in a direction; truth becomes relative, convictions become unpopular, and it becomes easy to drift with the crowd, even as long-time believers.
I was born and raised in a Christian family, but at university in Leeds I drifted from the church community. Later, I ended up working as a children's pastor at 22 — an unusual career choice among peers who were all chasing conventional careers. I found myself embarrassed to explain what I did, and eventually started lying about my job to strangers I didn't expect to see again.
One day in Paris, a friend turned the joke back on me in front of new acquaintances, and I felt the sting of embarrassment — but more than that, I began to feel genuine conviction. Every time I lied about my identity as a Christian working in ministry, it felt like ashes in my mouth.
Around that same time, I heard the story of a friend serving as a missionary in China in the early 2000s. He was in a secret house church meeting when armed guards burst in, shouting, "Are you Christians?" Some people ran. Others stayed. When the guards discovered they were Christians too, they said, "Thank you — we just needed to know if you were Christians. We'd like to join you."
I remember thinking: what would I have done? I'd been a Christian my whole life, yet I was lying about it casually. That story helped shift something in me. Now I can say I've lived out loud as a Christian for twenty years. Everybody is redeemable.
In chapter 7, Stephen gives a long speech recounting Israel's history — the patriarchs, the prophets, and the temple. Near the end, he says:
"The Most High does not live in houses made by human hands... You stiff-necked people, your hearts and ears are still uncircumcised. You are just like your ancestors: you always resist the Holy Spirit... you have betrayed and murdered him."
When the Sanhedrin heard this, they were furious and gnashed their teeth. But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked up to heaven and said, "Look, I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God." At this they rushed at him, dragged him out of the city, and stoned him — while Saul stood watching, approving.
"Lord Jesus, receive my spirit... Lord, do not hold this sin against them."
Stephen's defense wasn't built on his own strength — it was built on the Word of God, a history lesson tracing 1,100 years of Jewish history. His conclusion: salvation is not found in the patriarchs, the prophets, or a place — it is found in a person, the Lord Jesus Christ.
When people are convicted, they move one of two ways: toward humility and repentance, or toward hostility. The Sanhedrin chose hostility.
They were throwing stones, but Stephen was standing on the Rock. We may not face literal stones, but we face pressure — pressure to stay quiet, to compromise at work, for teenagers to hide their convictions at school. The question is: will we be faithful under that pressure?
God is asking Christians not to be thermometers — merely reflecting the temperature of the room — but thermostats, who influence the temperature around them because they're anchored in God's truth.
A close friend of ours, Nelly, had a radical conversion after years of not being a Christian. She became someone overflowing with the Holy Spirit — the kind of person who'd invite a stranger to Christmas lunch. About a year later, she faced a devastating season: serious illness, and the death of her older sister from cancer.
I went to meet her expecting her faith to be shaken. Instead, she was heartbroken but still full of faith, still talking about the Holy Spirit, still noticing "God incidences." She was still turning up the spiritual temperature in the room, even in grief. When we're discouraged, it's easy to isolate — but we need to find ourselves a Nelly, a Stephen, someone who raises the spiritual temperature wherever they go.
Stephen understood his story was a small piece in God's bigger picture. Martyrs don't die for a hoax — Stephen was utterly convinced of his Savior. Missionary Jim Elliot, speared to death at 29 while serving among the Auca people of Ecuador, wrote:
"He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose."
Both Jim and Stephen had a heavenly perspective — they understood God's plan is bigger than our comprehension, and their hearts were prepared to meet their Father.
As Stephen was being stoned, he saw "the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God" — the only place in Scripture where Jesus is described as standing rather than seated. Jesus stood in recognition of Stephen's faithfulness — giving him, in effect, a standing ovation from heaven. Jesus is always with us in our suffering, even when we feel far from Him.
Stephen refused to die with bitterness. One of the most powerful testimonies in life is forgiveness — when a Christian forgives, the world notices. Stephen's prayer, "Lord, do not hold this sin against them," echoes Jesus' words from the cross: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
Standing nearby, watching, was a young man named Saul — soon to become the apostle Paul. Imagine if Stephen had died bitter and unforgiving instead. His act of forgiveness undoubtedly played a part in Saul's eventual conversion. Our faithfulness may ripple out to influence people we never expect.
Stephen would tell us to believe in Jesus for the forgiveness of sins — God provided one way of salvation through His only Son, and Stephen was utterly sure of it. He would point us to Jesus shedding His blood on the cross so that we might have eternal life.
We don't want to be stiff-necked and hard-hearted — fighting against what the Spirit says. Instead, we should ask ourselves:
If Stephen walked in today, he wouldn't ask about attendance numbers or finances. He would ask: Are you full of the Holy Spirit? Can people see Jesus in you?
We might not be called to die for our faith, but we can be witnesses — living out our relationship with Jesus even in the face of opposition or disapproval. We can be a witness.
We're continuing in the book of Acts, looking at chapters six and seven. In those days, as the number of disciples increased, the Hellenistic Jews complained against the Hebraic Jews because their widows were being overlooked in the daily distribution of food. The apostles said it would not be right for them to neglect the ministry of the word to wait on tables, so they told the believers:
"Choose seven men from among you who are known to be full of the Spirit and wisdom. We will turn this responsibility over to them and will give our attention to prayer and the ministry of the word."
This pleased the whole group, and they chose Stephen — a man full of faith and of the Holy Spirit — along with six others. The apostles prayed and laid hands on them, and the word of God spread rapidly. Even a number of priests became obedient to the faith.
Stephen, "a man full of God's grace and power," performed great wonders among the people. Opposition arose from members of the synagogue who argued with him but could not stand against the wisdom the Spirit gave him. So they produced false witnesses and dragged him before the Sanhedrin. And there, as all eyes fixed on him, "they saw that his face was like the face of an angel."
History tells us that in the two centuries following these events, the church grew from a handful of believers to around 400,000 — without airplanes, without technology, simply through ordinary people witnessing on foot. Stephen stands out as one of the greatest leaders in the Bible, even though his life was cut short so abruptly. He was the first Christian martyr — the word martyr means witness — and his death was instrumental in the conversion of the apostle Paul.
Stephen was full of God's Spirit. If we're honest, could we say the same of ourselves? What are we full of? Sometimes I'm not so much full of God's Spirit as I am full of irrational fears, health anxiety, resentment — or, quite honestly, full of crisps.
Picture a cup of coffee filled right to the top. Add more, and it spills over. Whatever fills us will overflow when life squeezes us. Under pressure, some of us snap in anger; some are gripped by fear. Stephen shows us what it looks like when a person is filled with Christ — because Christ is what comes out when he's squeezed by persecution.
Stephen wasn't suddenly spiritual when trouble arrived — he was already full of the Spirit before the crisis began. The pressure simply revealed what was already inside him. In his dying prayer, we see him praying for the very people who are persecuting him — an incredible display of the fruit of the Spirit.
How do we get that kind of strength? We want it, but we easily neglect the habits that produce it. Life is noisy, full of scrolling and distraction. It's easy to spend five minutes on a verse for the day, feel good about it, and then spend the rest of the day completely disconnected from the Lord. No wonder anxiety is often louder than faith.
The battles of public faithfulness are won in the private place of prayer — in the secret place where we worship alone, cry alone, and grow familiar with the Holy Spirit's voice long before any trial arrives. Stephen's strength was cultivated well before he stood before the Sanhedrin.
Stephen's shining face echoes Moses coming down from receiving the Ten Commandments, and Jesus on the cross. He's in good company. Everyone noticed something different about Stephen, in private and in public — it was written all over his face that he was full of God.
To be filled with the Spirit means to be consistently controlled by the Holy Spirit — guided, controlled, and empowered by Him. Paul contrasts this in Romans 8:
"Those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace."
Stephen wasn't only practically gifted — organizing food distribution for widows — he was also deeply versed in Scripture, teaching and preaching with wisdom. His opponents in the synagogue could not withstand the wisdom and the Spirit with which he spoke. Some scholars even suggest Saul may have been part of that debate — quietened by this man of God.
Have you ever experienced that moment when words come out of your mouth in conversation and you think, that wasn't me — that was the Holy Spirit? That's the feeling of being used as a vessel for something beyond yourself.
Many religious leaders — Jewish priests — were becoming Christians at this time. This alarmed the establishment, so they accused Stephen of blasphemy against Moses and God, bringing false witnesses to secure his execution.
This brings us to our second mark of Stephen's character: he was faithful, standing firm for the truth.
If you've ever stood in a river or the sea with a strong current, you know that drifting takes no effort at all — but standing firm requires strength. It's the same spiritually. Culture constantly pushes us in a direction; truth becomes relative, convictions become unpopular, and it becomes easy to drift with the crowd, even as long-time believers.
I was born and raised in a Christian family, but at university in Leeds I drifted from the church community. Later, I ended up working as a children's pastor at 22 — an unusual career choice among peers who were all chasing conventional careers. I found myself embarrassed to explain what I did, and eventually started lying about my job to strangers I didn't expect to see again.
One day in Paris, a friend turned the joke back on me in front of new acquaintances, and I felt the sting of embarrassment — but more than that, I began to feel genuine conviction. Every time I lied about my identity as a Christian working in ministry, it felt like ashes in my mouth.
Around that same time, I heard the story of a friend serving as a missionary in China in the early 2000s. He was in a secret house church meeting when armed guards burst in, shouting, "Are you Christians?" Some people ran. Others stayed. When the guards discovered they were Christians too, they said, "Thank you — we just needed to know if you were Christians. We'd like to join you."
I remember thinking: what would I have done? I'd been a Christian my whole life, yet I was lying about it casually. That story helped shift something in me. Now I can say I've lived out loud as a Christian for twenty years. Everybody is redeemable.
In chapter 7, Stephen gives a long speech recounting Israel's history — the patriarchs, the prophets, and the temple. Near the end, he says:
"The Most High does not live in houses made by human hands... You stiff-necked people, your hearts and ears are still uncircumcised. You are just like your ancestors: you always resist the Holy Spirit... you have betrayed and murdered him."
When the Sanhedrin heard this, they were furious and gnashed their teeth. But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked up to heaven and said, "Look, I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God." At this they rushed at him, dragged him out of the city, and stoned him — while Saul stood watching, approving.
"Lord Jesus, receive my spirit... Lord, do not hold this sin against them."
Stephen's defense wasn't built on his own strength — it was built on the Word of God, a history lesson tracing 1,100 years of Jewish history. His conclusion: salvation is not found in the patriarchs, the prophets, or a place — it is found in a person, the Lord Jesus Christ.
When people are convicted, they move one of two ways: toward humility and repentance, or toward hostility. The Sanhedrin chose hostility.
They were throwing stones, but Stephen was standing on the Rock. We may not face literal stones, but we face pressure — pressure to stay quiet, to compromise at work, for teenagers to hide their convictions at school. The question is: will we be faithful under that pressure?
God is asking Christians not to be thermometers — merely reflecting the temperature of the room — but thermostats, who influence the temperature around them because they're anchored in God's truth.
A close friend of ours, Nelly, had a radical conversion after years of not being a Christian. She became someone overflowing with the Holy Spirit — the kind of person who'd invite a stranger to Christmas lunch. About a year later, she faced a devastating season: serious illness, and the death of her older sister from cancer.
I went to meet her expecting her faith to be shaken. Instead, she was heartbroken but still full of faith, still talking about the Holy Spirit, still noticing "God incidences." She was still turning up the spiritual temperature in the room, even in grief. When we're discouraged, it's easy to isolate — but we need to find ourselves a Nelly, a Stephen, someone who raises the spiritual temperature wherever they go.
Stephen understood his story was a small piece in God's bigger picture. Martyrs don't die for a hoax — Stephen was utterly convinced of his Savior. Missionary Jim Elliot, speared to death at 29 while serving among the Auca people of Ecuador, wrote:
"He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose."
Both Jim and Stephen had a heavenly perspective — they understood God's plan is bigger than our comprehension, and their hearts were prepared to meet their Father.
As Stephen was being stoned, he saw "the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God" — the only place in Scripture where Jesus is described as standing rather than seated. Jesus stood in recognition of Stephen's faithfulness — giving him, in effect, a standing ovation from heaven. Jesus is always with us in our suffering, even when we feel far from Him.
Stephen refused to die with bitterness. One of the most powerful testimonies in life is forgiveness — when a Christian forgives, the world notices. Stephen's prayer, "Lord, do not hold this sin against them," echoes Jesus' words from the cross: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
Standing nearby, watching, was a young man named Saul — soon to become the apostle Paul. Imagine if Stephen had died bitter and unforgiving instead. His act of forgiveness undoubtedly played a part in Saul's eventual conversion. Our faithfulness may ripple out to influence people we never expect.
Stephen would tell us to believe in Jesus for the forgiveness of sins — God provided one way of salvation through His only Son, and Stephen was utterly sure of it. He would point us to Jesus shedding His blood on the cross so that we might have eternal life.
We don't want to be stiff-necked and hard-hearted — fighting against what the Spirit says. Instead, we should ask ourselves:
If Stephen walked in today, he wouldn't ask about attendance numbers or finances. He would ask: Are you full of the Holy Spirit? Can people see Jesus in you?
We might not be called to die for our faith, but we can be witnesses — living out our relationship with Jesus even in the face of opposition or disapproval. We can be a witness.
