I’m captivated this week by a sermon from Paul that seems to slightly break the mold.
Here’s the setup:
Now while Paul was waiting for them at Athens, his spirit was provoked within him as he saw that the city was full of idols. So he reasoned in the synagogue with the Jews and the devout persons, and in the marketplace every day with those who happened to be there. Some of the Epicurean and Stoic philosophers also conversed with him. And some said, “What does this babbler wish to say?” Others said, “He seems to be a preacher of foreign divinities”—because he was preaching Jesus and the resurrection. And they took him and brought him to the Areopagus, saying, “May we know what this new teaching is that you are presenting? For you bring some strange things to our ears. We wish to know therefore what these things mean.” Now all the Athenians and the foreigners who lived there would spend their time in nothing except telling or hearing something new.
Acts 17:16-21
I’m taken by the image of Paul interacting with—indeed, even drawing the attention of—philosophers from two of the most prominent schools of thought at the time.
Epicureanism and Stoicism, which I would argue maintain a foothold even among modern people, were hedonistic philosophies that emphasized the pursuit and maintenance of pleasure and happiness as the keys to the good life.
So, the idea of a god-like figure who set aside his divine privileges to suffer and die on behalf of an undeserving and ungrateful humanity—even if he was to be resurrected in glory—must have struck these listeners as odd, as they indicate in verse 20.
Paul takes the bait:
So Paul, standing in the midst of the Areopagus, said: “Men of Athens, I perceive that in every way you are very religious. For as I passed along and observed the objects of your worship, I found also an altar with this inscription: ‘To the unknown god.’ What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you. The God who made the world and everything in it, being Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in temples made by man, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mankind life and breath and everything. And he made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined allotted periods and the boundaries of their dwelling place, that they should seek God, and perhaps feel their way toward him and find him. Yet he is actually not far from each one of us, for
“ ‘In him we live and move and have our being’;
as even some of your own poets have said,
“ ‘For we are indeed his offspring.’
Being then God’s offspring, we ought not to think that the divine being is like gold or silver or stone, an image formed by the art and imagination of man. The times of ignorance God overlooked, but now he commands all people everywhere to repent, because he has fixed a day on which he will judge the world in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed; and of this he has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead.”
Now when they heard of the resurrection of the dead, some mocked. But others said, “We will hear you again about this.” So Paul went out from their midst. But some men joined him and believed, among whom also were Dionysius the Areopagite and a woman named Damaris and others with them.
Acts 17:22-34
This short story is rife with symbolism:
Athens is a cultural hub, a city known for its schools and education but also exceptionally religious; consider the words of Petronius, a Roman writer alive during the early first century who claimed that in Athens “it is easier to meet a god than a man.”1
Even the name of the location—Areopagus—is indicative of the religious culture. It derives from the Greek “Aerios Pagos,” meaning “Hill of Ares,” in reference to the Greek god of war and courage.
Historically, Areopagus was a seat of judgment. Though it probably wasn’t the location of trials by the time Paul was there preaching, it’s still significant that it became the venue wherein Paul would preach about the coming judgment that all would be subjected to, presided over by Christ.
Athens was a city full of knowledge, but lacking in Truth; full of deities, but lacking God. I see so many parallels between Paul’s task in Athens and the modern believer’s task.
With that in mind, here are three things we can learn from Paul’s approach:
1. Find the connection
Paul doesn’t lead with malice or jump to tell his Athenian audience exactly what they’ve got wrong and why. The first strokes of his message aren’t fire and brimstone—instead, he reaches out a proverbial hand and relates his gospel to the religious fervor he’s witnessed in the city.
He even goes so far as to suggest that the God he’s preaching about may not be so unfamiliar to the Athenians after all. Paul uses an altar he saw, addressed “to the unknown god,” to launch into his message about the One True God, creator of heaven and earth and everything in it.
This God “does not live in temples made by man, nor is he served by human hands,” “yet he is actually not far from each of us.” The God that Paul preaches effectively breaks all the categories that the Athenians understand, yet Paul still finds a way to build a bridge between their religion and the one he preaches.
2. Learn the language
Paul speaks to the Athenians on their terms, a fact that is perhaps best illustrated by the quotes he references in verse 28:
“In him we live and move and have our being” is a quote from the poem Cretica, attributed to the Greek prophet Epimenides.
“For we are indeed his offspring” could be from one of two different sources—either the poem Phenomena, by a poet named Aratus, or a hymn written by Stoic philosopher Cleanthes.
In each of these cases, the “him” the original writer is referring to is almost certainly Zeus, the king of the Greek gods. That doesn’t deter Paul, though, from repurposing these words his audience is so familiar with and implying that they are better suited to address his God.
What language does your culture speak? What references are relevant—and what truths do they contain, conceal, and appropriate? Paul’s example is encouraging; rather than expecting his audience to immediately understand his novel message, he demonstrates what it means to be “all things to all people.”2
3. Remember the human condition
Humans were created to be worshippers, and as such we will worship anything (or anyone) that captures our attention. This was evident to Moses when he descended from Sinai and saw the Israelites worshipping a golden calf, and it is evident to Paul as he walks through the city of Athens and sees all the gods the people have invented.
Though disturbed by all the idols he sees, Paul doesn’t shame his audience—instead, he gives them something bigger and better to focus their worship instinct on.
There’s no compromise in his message. Paul still speaks boldly. His devotion to Christ is unwavering and unquestionable. There’s no hint of pluralism, no free passes for pantheism present in his discourse. He doesn’t pull punches when he tells the Athenians of coming judgment, and he doesn’t shrink back when mocked about the resurrection.
The message he preaches boils down to something deceptively simple: “I see that you’re religious people, and that you even allow for the possibility that there are gods that you don’t know about. You can be certain of this: there is One God, who created everything, who has been present since the beginning and whose presence we have even been able to perceive. He is not like an idol and cannot be depicted as such. It’s time now to submit to him alone, because he has sent a judge—Christ—who we can be certain of because he rose from the dead.”
Everyone you interact with wants to worship something.
Everyone you interact with is an individual intentionally created in the image of God.
Everyone you interact with is in desperate need of Christ.
Seek to minister to them like Paul ministered to the people of Athens—full of grace, in promotion of truth, in service to God alone.
From the archives:
Speaking of golden calves…
A visual reminder:
1 Corinthians 9:22