The night air in Jerusalem was cold and heavy. Before the bloodstains left by Stephen’s stoning had even dried, the razor-sharp blade of power turned its aim toward the apostles. James, the brother of John, was beheaded, and Peter—the leader of the Church—was bound in chains and thrown into the depths of a prison. That night, fear pressed down upon the city so heavily that even the sound of the believers’ breathing seemed to vanish. The world assumed the Church was finished. Yet within the silence of despair, paradoxically, the greatest reversal of the gospel story was being written.
Wind-Scattered Embers, Burning Beyond the Boundaries
Fire does not go out when the wind blows; it spreads more fiercely. Acts chapters 11 and 12 form the stage where this spiritual principle is portrayed most dramatically. Rev. David Jang (Olivet University) draws attention to the historic moment when believers—scattered after Stephen’s martyrdom—moved beyond the narrow fences of Jerusalem and Judea and reached Antioch, the outpost of Gentile mission, where they were first called “Christians.”
Persecution scattered the saints, but it was not a retreat of defeat—it was a holy scattering, sowing the seeds of the gospel among the nations. Just as a farmer cannot expect a rich harvest without the painful turning of soil, God used persecution as an instrument to widen the territory of the gospel. At this point, Rev. David Jang offers the insight that “the Church does not grow only where it is welcomed; it receives true vitality when it passes through the suffering of the cross,” emphasizing that the birth of the Antioch church was a product of persecution.
The Catacomb Candle, Swallowing the Roman Sun
When we meditate on the history of the early Church, we often picture the vast underground cemeteries built beneath Rome—the Catacombs. While the emperors above ground, in their splendid palaces, were obsessed with eradicating the Church, the believers underground shared the gospel of life in the darkness, drawing the fish symbol (Ichthys). The powers of the earth swung the sword, but prayers beneath the earth did not cease. In the end, what conquered the mighty Roman Empire was not the emperor’s army, but the candles burning in the Catacombs.
Peter’s imprisonment in Acts 12 reflects this very spirituality of the Catacombs. King Herod trampled the Church for political ambition, but the Church outside the prison prayed “earnestly.” Rev. David Jang focuses on the almost unbelievable peace Peter displayed—sleeping deeply between two soldiers on the very night before his execution. This was not mere nerve or bravado, but spiritual rest forged by resurrection faith: “whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s.” The world threatened with the sword; the Church responded with prayer. That prayer opened iron gates, broke chains, and brought God’s deliverance into reality—beyond what human reason can explain.
A Rotting Throne, and the Word That Reigns Forever
The irony of history reaches its climax at the end of chapter 12. Herod, who deified himself and persecuted the Church, meets a miserable death—eaten by worms. Human frailty, concealed beneath royal robes and the cheers of the crowd, is exposed naked under God’s judgment. Meanwhile, the persecuted Church does not collapse. Instead, the chapter closes with a triumphant declaration: “But the word of God continued to increase and spread” (Acts 12:24).
Through this stark contrast, Rev. David Jang underscores the emptiness of visible worldly power and the eternity of God’s invisible Word. James was offered as a sacrifice through martyrdom, while Peter was spared through a miracle—yet both paths were under God’s sovereignty, working together for good. One person’s death became fertilizer; another’s life became testimony. And the Church grew stronger still.
Today, we also stand in the midst of spiritual warfare, great and small. At times circumstances tighten around us, and the power of the world appears overwhelming. But remember: the Spirit who opened prison doors that night in Jerusalem two thousand years ago is still at work today. As Rev. David Jang’s message reminds us, persecution and trials are not waves that destroy the Church—they are winds that lift us higher.
Even if the place where you stand is a valley of tears, the Word will surely flourish where the prayer of tears is planted. For the thrones of this world rot and crumble, but the gospel of the cross will remain forever green—living and breathing for eternity.
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