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I want to hang this entire message on one word: almost. We use it constantly—in sports, in daily conversations, in life. "Almost went in." "Almost called you." "Almost took that job." "Are we there yet?" "Almost."
One of the key verses I've been meditating on is from Psalm 39:4: "Lord, just remind me how brief my time on earth will be. Remind me that my days are numbered, how fleeting my life is."
I looked up how many seconds I supposedly have left to live according to some online calculator—485 million seconds. But only God knows the true number of seconds I have left. What I do know is this: I'm dying. You're dying. We're all terminal.
So here's a prayer I've been praying lately: God, turn my someday into today.
We all have a someday list, don't we? Someday I'll get serious about my body. Someday I'll build into my marriage. Someday I'll address my drug or alcohol problem. Someday I'll forgive them. Someday I'll get on a budget. Someday I'll get in a group. Someday I'll serve.
But nothing apart from the unfailing love of God is guaranteed to us. I could walk out of here today and get in a car wreck. My plane could go down. I could have a heart attack. I don't want to almost live.
If only Herod in Acts 26 had prayed that prayer. Maybe he almost did.
The name Herod keeps popping up throughout the New Testament, and it's important to understand this family and their tradition. I was recently listening to a Hank Williams Jr. song where he sings, "If I get stoned, I'm just carrying on an old family tradition." Well, the Herods had quite the family tradition too.
Herod the Great was the Roman-appointed king of Judea—paranoid, materialistic, power-hungry. He built extravagant construction projects and killed his wife (his "favorite" wife), three of his sons, and other family members over conspiracy theories. Most infamously, he massacred all infants under two at the birth of Jesus because he saw the baby as a threat to his throne.
Herod Archelaus, his son, ruled Judea after him and was so abusive and corrupt that even Rome had to remove him. You have to be really bad for Rome to remove you.
Herod Antipas was probably the most prominent Herod in the New Testament. He continued the family tradition of ego, depravity, and self-gratification. The historian Josephus tells us that he stayed at his brother Philip's house, slept with Philip's wife Herodias (who was the granddaughter of Herod the Great), and then married her after dumping his own wife. When John the Baptist spoke into this moral corruption, Herod threw him in prison, and then had him beheaded at Herodias's request during a drunken party.
Herod Agrippa I was the grandson of Herod the Great. He continued the family tradition by killing James, the son of Zebedee. When he saw how it pleased the religious leaders, he threw Peter in jail. But an angel miraculously helped Peter escape. Later, at a grand speech, the people praised Herod as a god, and he accepted it. As he accepted their worship, God struck him down, and he was eaten by worms and died.
Herod Agrippa II is the one we meet in Acts 26. He shows up with his sister Bernice (and most historians suspect their relationship was more than sisterly). They were still carrying on the family tradition of ego, depravity, materialism, self-indulgence, and self-importance.
Here's something crucial: at any time, with God's help, you and I can be a cycle breaker in our family. We don't have to carry on the family tradition. We can change the trajectory of our family tree.
I'm so grateful that many of you have done this. But do you know how much courage that takes? It takes self-awareness. It takes genuine humility, which means coming down off the throne of your life and surrendering to God's leadership. And man, that was really hard for King Herod.
Paul, who is totally innocent, is awaiting trial in this palace on the beautiful coast of Caesarea—one of Herod the Great's opulent construction projects, now used as headquarters for the Roman governor Festus.
Herod Agrippa and his sister Bernice come up from Jerusalem for a visit. Festus tells Agrippa about this prisoner Paul. He says: "Your Jewish religious leaders want me to execute him, but Roman law doesn't condemn a man without a trial. The accusations against him are about their religion and some dead guy named Jesus whom Paul insists is alive. I don't know how to handle it. He's already appealed to Caesar as a Roman citizen, so he has to go to Rome. But in my opinion, he's done nothing wrong."
Agrippa says, "I'd love to meet him."
The next day, Agrippa and Bernice show up with all kinds of pomp—military escorts, prominent officials. It's a grand room full of very influential people.
Paul knows the Herod family history. He knows what they're capable of. It takes courage to stand before him. But Paul is shrewd. He knows that Herod loves being in charge and enjoys being the center of attention. So Paul meets him where he's at.
Paul says: "I am fortunate, King Agrippa, that you are the one hearing my defense today against all these accusations made by the Jewish leaders. For I know that you are an expert on all Jewish customs and controversies. Now, please listen to me patiently."
Now, Paul knows he's already appealed to Caesar, so he knows he's eventually going to Rome. But he realizes he has a room full of influencers, leaders, governors, rulers, and kings. What an opportunity to share his story and how Jesus completely changed his life.
You see, Paul was a guy who didn't almost live. He lived like he had 30 days.
I once saw a student on a college campus wearing a bright yellow shirt with bold black letters on the front that said "Live," with fine print underneath. On the back it said "Die," with fine print underneath. When I got a closer look, it read: "Live like you'll die tomorrow. Die knowing you'll live forever."
That was Paul. Because of the resurrection of Jesus, he wasn't afraid to die. And listen: when you're not afraid to die, you're not afraid to live. Paul sees this as an incredible opportunity God has placed before him to point people to Jesus.
Paul begins with his impressive credentials. He says:
"I was given a thorough Jewish training from my earliest childhood among my own people and in Jerusalem. They don't claim me now, but if they would admit it, they know that I have been a member of the Pharisees, the strictest sect of our religion."
This reminds me of what he says in Philippians 3 where he lists all his religious credentials: "I was a Hebrew of Hebrews. I was a Pharisee of Pharisees. I was super zealous about keeping the law. I was a protector of the faith. But now I consider all that rubbish compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord."
Paul then says to Herod: "What's incredible? I'm actually on trial for having hope—the same hope the prophets talked about, the hope we've all been waiting for. Why does it seem so mind-blowing that the Creator of solar systems, the Creator of sunsets and DNA, can raise the dead back to life?"
Then Paul goes from resume to rap sheet. He says:
"Back in the Saul days, I used to believe that I ought to do everything I could to oppose the very name of Jesus the Nazarene. Indeed, I did just that in Jerusalem. Authorized by the leading priest, I caused many believers there to be sent to prison. And I cast my vote against them. When they were condemned to death, many times I had them punished, tortured in the synagogues to get them to curse Jesus. I was so violently opposed to them that I even chased them down in foreign cities."
I was filled with self-righteous anger and deep hatred based on my own perceived superiority. You need a hit on a Jesus follower? Better call Saul.
But here's the thing: Paul is able to stand there and honestly say all this because he knew he wasn't defined by his past. He knew he was a completely new person in Jesus Christ.
Jesus doesn't just make us better. He makes you new. Your past is not a liability. It can become an incredibly powerful tool in the hands of a God who redeems all things.
Some of you like to repurpose stuff. You'll find a piece of trash on the side of the road, take it home, and turn it into an amazing conversation piece. You take an old fixer-upper, remove a wall, and transform it into a beautiful showplace. You get into the hood of an old junker and get it running like new.
But as gifted as you are, you can't hold a candle to what God can do. He is really into restoration. He's into transformation. He's into repurposing.
Some of you think, "God can never use a guy like me. God can never use a woman like me. I mean, if people knew my past." Listen to me: God uses all of that. He restores broken things. He can make anybody new, and He wants to do that with you, and then use your unique story to touch the lives of other people.
Your past does not define you. It just describes you and highlights the transformative power of the amazing grace of God at work in your life.
Paul then shares the turning point of his life. He says:
"One day I was on such a mission to Damascus, armed with the authority and commission of the leading priests. About noon, your majesty, as I was on the road, a light from heaven, brighter than the sun, shone down on me and my companions, and we all fell down. And I heard a voice saying to me in Aramaic, 'Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me? It's useless for you to fight against my will.'"
The repetition of his name—"Saul, Saul"—was a way of signaling how personal, how urgent, how intimate this conversation was going to be. This wasn't a generic revelation for everybody on that road. This was Jesus talking directly to Saul like he was the only one on that road.
Have you ever felt like that? Have you felt like God was talking to you like you're the only one in the room? Well, He is.
Jesus asked him, "Why are you persecuting me?" Now, Saul hadn't been personally persecuting Jesus, but Jesus was identifying with His followers, His church, His body, His family. He was saying, "Listen, if you're mistreating them, you're mistreating me."
Jesus identified completely with His followers when He asked Saul, "Why are you persecuting me?" Saul hadn't personally persecuted Jesus, but Jesus was saying, "Listen, if you're mistreating them, you're mistreating me." Jesus was claiming His church, His body, His family as His own.
The phrase "it's hard for you to kick against the goads" references a sharp stick with a metal tip used to guide oxen. When an ox kicked against it, the animal only hurt itself while still being forced to move in the intended direction. Jesus was essentially saying to Saul, "Why are you being so stubborn? Why are you fighting a fight that you can't win? It's futile. Give it up."
Jesus was calling him to surrender: "Stop kicking and surrender to me because I want to give you a new heart. I want to give you a new passion. I want to give you a brand new purpose for living your life."
When Paul asked, "Who are you, Lord?" Jesus replied, "I'm Jesus, the one you persecute." The resurrected Jesus then commissioned Paul with a clear purpose: to tell everybody about Him, to share God's love and forgiveness, and to bring light to all kinds of people living in all kinds of dark places.
Paul obeyed this heavenly vision. He preached first in Damascus—the very city where he had come to imprison believers—then in Jerusalem, throughout Judea, and to the Gentiles. His message was consistent: "All must repent of their sins and turn to God. And then prove that they've changed with the good things they do."
When the Roman governor Festus heard Paul's testimony, he blurted out, "Dude, you are crazy. All that study of yours has made you insane." The gospel does sound a little crazy to those who don't understand God's grace. A crucified king? A risen savior? Forgiveness for sinners? Love your enemies? More is less and less is more, first is last and last is first, want to be great then go serve somebody—what?
Yes, it is countercultural and counterintuitive. But Jesus brought it, taught it, walked it, and then backed it all up by rising from the dead.
Paul, this brilliant intellectual, responded to the accusation of insanity by appealing to historical evidence. "I know I might sound crazy, but this is not a fairy tale. This is true, and it was done out in the open in plain sight, and there are tons of trustworthy eyewitnesses. In fact, there are many, many witnesses just like me who are willing to die for what they know to be true."
He declared with confidence: "This is real history about a real man who taught a real truth, who performed real miracles, died on a real cross, no longer occupies a real empty tomb, and gives real life to people like us. All of this actually happened."
Paul emphasized to King Agrippa, "These events, they're all familiar to him, for they were not done in a corner." The resurrection happened in broad daylight, witnessed by many people.
Paul then looked King Agrippa directly in the eye and asked, "King Agrippa, do you believe the prophets? I know you do."
Agrippa's response came quickly: "Do you think you can persuade me to become a Christian so quickly?" We don't know if he was being sarcastic, feeling political pressure from Festus, or genuinely uncertain. We don't know which words he emphasized. But his tone remains ambiguous.
Regardless of his intent, Paul responded with a heartfelt plea: "Whether quickly or not, I pray to God that both you and everyone here in this audience might become the same as I am, except for these chains. Man, I wish you knew Jesus, too. I wish you would embrace God's free gift of forgiveness, too. I pray that you would find abundant life, eternal life, just like I have. I wish that you would accept God's amazing grace. I wish everyone here would follow Jesus so that you all could be free."
Paul then made a powerful declaration about his freedom: "Yeah, it's for sure. I got these chains right here, but make no mistake about it. I'm more free than I've ever been in my entire life."
After hearing Paul's testimony, those present concluded, "This man's done nothing wrong to deserve death or in prison." Even Agrippa admitted to Festus, "He could have been set free if he hadn't appealed to Caesar." Paul was likely thinking, "Agrippa could have been set free if he hadn't appealed to his ego."
One man was chained up on the outside but free on the inside. Another man was free on the outside but so chained up on the inside.
Then came the devastating words: "You almost persuade me to become a Christian."
There is no biblical or historical record that Herod Agrippa ever became a follower of Jesus. He became just another "almost." An old hymn from 1870, based on Agrippa's response, captures this tragedy:
Almost persuaded now to believe. Almost persuaded Christ to receive. Seems now some soul to say, "Go, spirit, go thy way. Some more convenient day on thee I'll call."
Many of us have been there. We were almost persuaded. We heard the call of the spirit. We felt the tug of God. We almost leaned in. And we think, "Maybe I will someday."
But the writer of Hebrews warns: "Today you must listen to his voice. Don't harden your hearts like against him as Israel did when they rebelled."
When God calls today and we don't respond today, we get a little more set in our ways. We get a little more comfortable in our dysfunction, a little more stubborn, a little harder on the inside.
Some of you have been saying honestly, "Yeah, I'll give my life to Jesus someday. I'll let him forgive me someday. I'll humble myself and turn toward God someday because I got time, man. I'll secure my eternal destination like later on down the road, you know, when the time is right." But the word of God says the right time is now. Today is the day of salvation.
I was working through all this and texting with a buddy who, a couple of years ago, found out he had cancer. He's gone through six different experimental cancer treatments. This guy is a picture of health—big, strong, healthy, athletic, a great husband, great dad, great friend, great neighbor.
He texted me on Tuesday that he was leaving the hospital to go into hospice care. He was sad for his family but looking forward to meeting Jesus face-to-face. For most of his life, he was an "almost" kind of guy. But about ten years ago, he moved from almost to all in. And he began to live like he would die tomorrow. Now he is dying knowing that he's going to live forever.
God lovingly pursues and speaks to all of us. Please don't be like Agrippa and get up and walk out of this room saying, "I almost acknowledge my need for God. I almost humbled myself. I almost said yes to the Holy Spirit."
Some of you might be feeling God's pull right now. You sense that quiet voice inside of you saying, "This is true. And this is true for you." Don't ignore that. It's not emotion. This is not pressure. It's not manipulation. It's not hype. This is the God who created you and wants to do life with you, who loves you, who is speaking to you right now calling you home.
You can sit in church for years and still be "almost." But today is the day. Now is the moment to move from almost to all in. God turned my "someday" into "today." He can do the same for you.
The truth is: you can surrender right now. You can say in your own words from your own heart, "Jesus, I surrender. I give up. I believe you died for me. I believe you rose from the dead. Thanks for pursuing me and right now I'm turning toward you. Forgive my sin. Sweep away my shame. Take my life. Lead me. Because I'm done being almost. I surrender my heart and my life to you right now. I'm all in."
I want to hang this entire message on one word: almost. We use it constantly—in sports, in daily conversations, in life. "Almost went in." "Almost called you." "Almost took that job." "Are we there yet?" "Almost."
One of the key verses I've been meditating on is from Psalm 39:4: "Lord, just remind me how brief my time on earth will be. Remind me that my days are numbered, how fleeting my life is."
I looked up how many seconds I supposedly have left to live according to some online calculator—485 million seconds. But only God knows the true number of seconds I have left. What I do know is this: I'm dying. You're dying. We're all terminal.
So here's a prayer I've been praying lately: God, turn my someday into today.
We all have a someday list, don't we? Someday I'll get serious about my body. Someday I'll build into my marriage. Someday I'll address my drug or alcohol problem. Someday I'll forgive them. Someday I'll get on a budget. Someday I'll get in a group. Someday I'll serve.
But nothing apart from the unfailing love of God is guaranteed to us. I could walk out of here today and get in a car wreck. My plane could go down. I could have a heart attack. I don't want to almost live.
If only Herod in Acts 26 had prayed that prayer. Maybe he almost did.
The name Herod keeps popping up throughout the New Testament, and it's important to understand this family and their tradition. I was recently listening to a Hank Williams Jr. song where he sings, "If I get stoned, I'm just carrying on an old family tradition." Well, the Herods had quite the family tradition too.
Herod the Great was the Roman-appointed king of Judea—paranoid, materialistic, power-hungry. He built extravagant construction projects and killed his wife (his "favorite" wife), three of his sons, and other family members over conspiracy theories. Most infamously, he massacred all infants under two at the birth of Jesus because he saw the baby as a threat to his throne.
Herod Archelaus, his son, ruled Judea after him and was so abusive and corrupt that even Rome had to remove him. You have to be really bad for Rome to remove you.
Herod Antipas was probably the most prominent Herod in the New Testament. He continued the family tradition of ego, depravity, and self-gratification. The historian Josephus tells us that he stayed at his brother Philip's house, slept with Philip's wife Herodias (who was the granddaughter of Herod the Great), and then married her after dumping his own wife. When John the Baptist spoke into this moral corruption, Herod threw him in prison, and then had him beheaded at Herodias's request during a drunken party.
Herod Agrippa I was the grandson of Herod the Great. He continued the family tradition by killing James, the son of Zebedee. When he saw how it pleased the religious leaders, he threw Peter in jail. But an angel miraculously helped Peter escape. Later, at a grand speech, the people praised Herod as a god, and he accepted it. As he accepted their worship, God struck him down, and he was eaten by worms and died.
Herod Agrippa II is the one we meet in Acts 26. He shows up with his sister Bernice (and most historians suspect their relationship was more than sisterly). They were still carrying on the family tradition of ego, depravity, materialism, self-indulgence, and self-importance.
Here's something crucial: at any time, with God's help, you and I can be a cycle breaker in our family. We don't have to carry on the family tradition. We can change the trajectory of our family tree.
I'm so grateful that many of you have done this. But do you know how much courage that takes? It takes self-awareness. It takes genuine humility, which means coming down off the throne of your life and surrendering to God's leadership. And man, that was really hard for King Herod.
Paul, who is totally innocent, is awaiting trial in this palace on the beautiful coast of Caesarea—one of Herod the Great's opulent construction projects, now used as headquarters for the Roman governor Festus.
Herod Agrippa and his sister Bernice come up from Jerusalem for a visit. Festus tells Agrippa about this prisoner Paul. He says: "Your Jewish religious leaders want me to execute him, but Roman law doesn't condemn a man without a trial. The accusations against him are about their religion and some dead guy named Jesus whom Paul insists is alive. I don't know how to handle it. He's already appealed to Caesar as a Roman citizen, so he has to go to Rome. But in my opinion, he's done nothing wrong."
Agrippa says, "I'd love to meet him."
The next day, Agrippa and Bernice show up with all kinds of pomp—military escorts, prominent officials. It's a grand room full of very influential people.
Paul knows the Herod family history. He knows what they're capable of. It takes courage to stand before him. But Paul is shrewd. He knows that Herod loves being in charge and enjoys being the center of attention. So Paul meets him where he's at.
Paul says: "I am fortunate, King Agrippa, that you are the one hearing my defense today against all these accusations made by the Jewish leaders. For I know that you are an expert on all Jewish customs and controversies. Now, please listen to me patiently."
Now, Paul knows he's already appealed to Caesar, so he knows he's eventually going to Rome. But he realizes he has a room full of influencers, leaders, governors, rulers, and kings. What an opportunity to share his story and how Jesus completely changed his life.
You see, Paul was a guy who didn't almost live. He lived like he had 30 days.
I once saw a student on a college campus wearing a bright yellow shirt with bold black letters on the front that said "Live," with fine print underneath. On the back it said "Die," with fine print underneath. When I got a closer look, it read: "Live like you'll die tomorrow. Die knowing you'll live forever."
That was Paul. Because of the resurrection of Jesus, he wasn't afraid to die. And listen: when you're not afraid to die, you're not afraid to live. Paul sees this as an incredible opportunity God has placed before him to point people to Jesus.
Paul begins with his impressive credentials. He says:
"I was given a thorough Jewish training from my earliest childhood among my own people and in Jerusalem. They don't claim me now, but if they would admit it, they know that I have been a member of the Pharisees, the strictest sect of our religion."
This reminds me of what he says in Philippians 3 where he lists all his religious credentials: "I was a Hebrew of Hebrews. I was a Pharisee of Pharisees. I was super zealous about keeping the law. I was a protector of the faith. But now I consider all that rubbish compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord."
Paul then says to Herod: "What's incredible? I'm actually on trial for having hope—the same hope the prophets talked about, the hope we've all been waiting for. Why does it seem so mind-blowing that the Creator of solar systems, the Creator of sunsets and DNA, can raise the dead back to life?"
Then Paul goes from resume to rap sheet. He says:
"Back in the Saul days, I used to believe that I ought to do everything I could to oppose the very name of Jesus the Nazarene. Indeed, I did just that in Jerusalem. Authorized by the leading priest, I caused many believers there to be sent to prison. And I cast my vote against them. When they were condemned to death, many times I had them punished, tortured in the synagogues to get them to curse Jesus. I was so violently opposed to them that I even chased them down in foreign cities."
I was filled with self-righteous anger and deep hatred based on my own perceived superiority. You need a hit on a Jesus follower? Better call Saul.
But here's the thing: Paul is able to stand there and honestly say all this because he knew he wasn't defined by his past. He knew he was a completely new person in Jesus Christ.
Jesus doesn't just make us better. He makes you new. Your past is not a liability. It can become an incredibly powerful tool in the hands of a God who redeems all things.
Some of you like to repurpose stuff. You'll find a piece of trash on the side of the road, take it home, and turn it into an amazing conversation piece. You take an old fixer-upper, remove a wall, and transform it into a beautiful showplace. You get into the hood of an old junker and get it running like new.
But as gifted as you are, you can't hold a candle to what God can do. He is really into restoration. He's into transformation. He's into repurposing.
Some of you think, "God can never use a guy like me. God can never use a woman like me. I mean, if people knew my past." Listen to me: God uses all of that. He restores broken things. He can make anybody new, and He wants to do that with you, and then use your unique story to touch the lives of other people.
Your past does not define you. It just describes you and highlights the transformative power of the amazing grace of God at work in your life.
Paul then shares the turning point of his life. He says:
"One day I was on such a mission to Damascus, armed with the authority and commission of the leading priests. About noon, your majesty, as I was on the road, a light from heaven, brighter than the sun, shone down on me and my companions, and we all fell down. And I heard a voice saying to me in Aramaic, 'Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me? It's useless for you to fight against my will.'"
The repetition of his name—"Saul, Saul"—was a way of signaling how personal, how urgent, how intimate this conversation was going to be. This wasn't a generic revelation for everybody on that road. This was Jesus talking directly to Saul like he was the only one on that road.
Have you ever felt like that? Have you felt like God was talking to you like you're the only one in the room? Well, He is.
Jesus asked him, "Why are you persecuting me?" Now, Saul hadn't been personally persecuting Jesus, but Jesus was identifying with His followers, His church, His body, His family. He was saying, "Listen, if you're mistreating them, you're mistreating me."
Jesus identified completely with His followers when He asked Saul, "Why are you persecuting me?" Saul hadn't personally persecuted Jesus, but Jesus was saying, "Listen, if you're mistreating them, you're mistreating me." Jesus was claiming His church, His body, His family as His own.
The phrase "it's hard for you to kick against the goads" references a sharp stick with a metal tip used to guide oxen. When an ox kicked against it, the animal only hurt itself while still being forced to move in the intended direction. Jesus was essentially saying to Saul, "Why are you being so stubborn? Why are you fighting a fight that you can't win? It's futile. Give it up."
Jesus was calling him to surrender: "Stop kicking and surrender to me because I want to give you a new heart. I want to give you a new passion. I want to give you a brand new purpose for living your life."
When Paul asked, "Who are you, Lord?" Jesus replied, "I'm Jesus, the one you persecute." The resurrected Jesus then commissioned Paul with a clear purpose: to tell everybody about Him, to share God's love and forgiveness, and to bring light to all kinds of people living in all kinds of dark places.
Paul obeyed this heavenly vision. He preached first in Damascus—the very city where he had come to imprison believers—then in Jerusalem, throughout Judea, and to the Gentiles. His message was consistent: "All must repent of their sins and turn to God. And then prove that they've changed with the good things they do."
When the Roman governor Festus heard Paul's testimony, he blurted out, "Dude, you are crazy. All that study of yours has made you insane." The gospel does sound a little crazy to those who don't understand God's grace. A crucified king? A risen savior? Forgiveness for sinners? Love your enemies? More is less and less is more, first is last and last is first, want to be great then go serve somebody—what?
Yes, it is countercultural and counterintuitive. But Jesus brought it, taught it, walked it, and then backed it all up by rising from the dead.
Paul, this brilliant intellectual, responded to the accusation of insanity by appealing to historical evidence. "I know I might sound crazy, but this is not a fairy tale. This is true, and it was done out in the open in plain sight, and there are tons of trustworthy eyewitnesses. In fact, there are many, many witnesses just like me who are willing to die for what they know to be true."
He declared with confidence: "This is real history about a real man who taught a real truth, who performed real miracles, died on a real cross, no longer occupies a real empty tomb, and gives real life to people like us. All of this actually happened."
Paul emphasized to King Agrippa, "These events, they're all familiar to him, for they were not done in a corner." The resurrection happened in broad daylight, witnessed by many people.
Paul then looked King Agrippa directly in the eye and asked, "King Agrippa, do you believe the prophets? I know you do."
Agrippa's response came quickly: "Do you think you can persuade me to become a Christian so quickly?" We don't know if he was being sarcastic, feeling political pressure from Festus, or genuinely uncertain. We don't know which words he emphasized. But his tone remains ambiguous.
Regardless of his intent, Paul responded with a heartfelt plea: "Whether quickly or not, I pray to God that both you and everyone here in this audience might become the same as I am, except for these chains. Man, I wish you knew Jesus, too. I wish you would embrace God's free gift of forgiveness, too. I pray that you would find abundant life, eternal life, just like I have. I wish that you would accept God's amazing grace. I wish everyone here would follow Jesus so that you all could be free."
Paul then made a powerful declaration about his freedom: "Yeah, it's for sure. I got these chains right here, but make no mistake about it. I'm more free than I've ever been in my entire life."
After hearing Paul's testimony, those present concluded, "This man's done nothing wrong to deserve death or in prison." Even Agrippa admitted to Festus, "He could have been set free if he hadn't appealed to Caesar." Paul was likely thinking, "Agrippa could have been set free if he hadn't appealed to his ego."
One man was chained up on the outside but free on the inside. Another man was free on the outside but so chained up on the inside.
Then came the devastating words: "You almost persuade me to become a Christian."
There is no biblical or historical record that Herod Agrippa ever became a follower of Jesus. He became just another "almost." An old hymn from 1870, based on Agrippa's response, captures this tragedy:
Almost persuaded now to believe. Almost persuaded Christ to receive. Seems now some soul to say, "Go, spirit, go thy way. Some more convenient day on thee I'll call."
Many of us have been there. We were almost persuaded. We heard the call of the spirit. We felt the tug of God. We almost leaned in. And we think, "Maybe I will someday."
But the writer of Hebrews warns: "Today you must listen to his voice. Don't harden your hearts like against him as Israel did when they rebelled."
When God calls today and we don't respond today, we get a little more set in our ways. We get a little more comfortable in our dysfunction, a little more stubborn, a little harder on the inside.
Some of you have been saying honestly, "Yeah, I'll give my life to Jesus someday. I'll let him forgive me someday. I'll humble myself and turn toward God someday because I got time, man. I'll secure my eternal destination like later on down the road, you know, when the time is right." But the word of God says the right time is now. Today is the day of salvation.
I was working through all this and texting with a buddy who, a couple of years ago, found out he had cancer. He's gone through six different experimental cancer treatments. This guy is a picture of health—big, strong, healthy, athletic, a great husband, great dad, great friend, great neighbor.
He texted me on Tuesday that he was leaving the hospital to go into hospice care. He was sad for his family but looking forward to meeting Jesus face-to-face. For most of his life, he was an "almost" kind of guy. But about ten years ago, he moved from almost to all in. And he began to live like he would die tomorrow. Now he is dying knowing that he's going to live forever.
God lovingly pursues and speaks to all of us. Please don't be like Agrippa and get up and walk out of this room saying, "I almost acknowledge my need for God. I almost humbled myself. I almost said yes to the Holy Spirit."
Some of you might be feeling God's pull right now. You sense that quiet voice inside of you saying, "This is true. And this is true for you." Don't ignore that. It's not emotion. This is not pressure. It's not manipulation. It's not hype. This is the God who created you and wants to do life with you, who loves you, who is speaking to you right now calling you home.
You can sit in church for years and still be "almost." But today is the day. Now is the moment to move from almost to all in. God turned my "someday" into "today." He can do the same for you.
The truth is: you can surrender right now. You can say in your own words from your own heart, "Jesus, I surrender. I give up. I believe you died for me. I believe you rose from the dead. Thanks for pursuing me and right now I'm turning toward you. Forgive my sin. Sweep away my shame. Take my life. Lead me. Because I'm done being almost. I surrender my heart and my life to you right now. I'm all in."
