Abolitionists love the story of Paul and Silas's dramatic prison release told in Acts 16. Who wouldn't? It shouts of vibrant praise, a supernatural earthquake, and salvation:
One day, on our way to the place of prayer, a slave girl ran into us. She was a psychic and, with her fortunetelling, made a lot of money for the people who owned her. She started following Paul around, calling everyone's attention to us by yelling out, "These men are working for the Most High God. They're laying out the road of salvation for you!" She did this for a number of days until Paul, finally fed up with her, turned and commanded the spirit that possessed her, "Out! In the name of Jesus Christ, get out of her!" And it was gone, just like that.
When her owners saw that their lucrative little business was suddenly bankrupt, they went after Paul and Silas, roughed them up and dragged them into the market square. Then the police arrested them and pulled them into a court with the accusation, "These men are disturbing the peace-dangerous Jewish agitators subverting our Roman law and order." By this time the crowd had turned into a restless mob out for blood.
The judges when along with the mob, had Paul and Silas's clothes ripped off and ordered a public beating. After beating them black-and-blue, they threw them into jail, telling the jailkeeper to put them under heavy guard so there would be no chance of escape. He did just that--threw them into the maximum security cell in the jail and clamped leg irons on them.
Along about midnight--Paul and Silas were at prayer and singing a robust hymn to God. The other prisoners couldn't believe their ears. Then, without warning, a huge earthquake! The jailhouse tottered, every door flew open, all the prisoners were loose.
Startled from sleep, the jailer saw all the doors swinging loose on their hinges. Assuming that all the prisoners had escaped, he pulled out his sword and was about to do himself in, figuring he was as good as dead anyway, when Paul stopped him: "Don't do that! We're all still here! Nobody's run away!"
The jailer got a torch and ran inside. Badly shaken, he collapsed in front of Paul and Silas. He led them out of the jail and asked, "Sirs, what do I have to do be be saved, to really live?" They said, "Put your entire trust in Master Jesus. Then you'll live as you were meant to live--and everyone in your house included!"
They went on to spell out in detail the story of the Master--the entire family got in on this part. They never did get to bed that night. The jailer made them feel at home, dressed their wounds, and then--he couldn't wait until morning!--was baptized, he and everyone in his family. There in his home, he had food set out for a festive meal. It was a night to remember. He and his entire family had put their trust in God; everyone in the house was in on the celebration.
At daybreak, the court judges sent officers with the instructions, "Release these men." The jailer gave Paul the message, "The judges sent word that you're free to go on your way. Congratulations! Go in peace!"
But Paul wouldn't budge. He told the officers, "They beat us up in public and threw us in jail, Roman citizens in good standing! And now they want to get us out of the way on the sly without anyone knowing? Nothing doing! If they want us out of here, let them come themselves and lead us out in broad daylight."
When the officers reported this, the judges panicked. They had no idea that Paul and Silas were Roman citizens. They hurried over and apologized, personally escorted them from the jail, and then asked them if they wouldn't please leave the city. Walking out of the jail, Paul and Silas went straight to Lydia's house, saw their friends again, encouraged them in the faith, and only then went on their way.*
Whoosh! Quite a bit to unpack in this story. First there is a demon-possessed slave girl who is compelled to scream out the truth as God's servants pass her: "These men bring the story of salvation!" Through the power of the Holy Spirit, Paul speaks words of freedom to her, resulting in severe beating and imprisonment for himself and his cohort. No interfering with the highly lucrative slave trade! I'm following avidly thus far, as this is paralleling stories I read every week about modern-day abolitionists risking all to answer God's call to justice. Well, next comes the part that we learn in Sunday school: literally chained in prison, black and blue, and without even the pretense of creature comforts, Paul and Silas choose to sing songs of praise to God.
Last night, a friend referenced this praise part of the story when praying for torture camps in the Sinai. It seems that people are generally most impressed that Paul and Silas would sing after being tortured and wrongfully imprisoned. As Americans, we're transfixed that they would choose to praise God after His apparent failure to protect and provide. Then, bam! An earthquake shows the authorities Who is in control. Take that! As abolitionists, we continually pray for these types of miraculous rescues. We tend to focus on this part of the story, glossing over the ending. But, astonishingly, Paul and Silas do not walk out freely into the night. They wait for the jailer. Paul and Silas knew that the jailer's life would be forfeit for any prisoners who escaped. That was the law of the time. Despite God's miraculous intervention on their behalf, they voluntarily remained in captivity for the sake of the jailer's soul. This sort of love completely floored the jailer, and it likewise stops me in my tracks.
Paul was no pansy. He was a fierce advocate of justice, as you can see at the end of the story when he essentially demanded a legal clearing of his name, again remaining in jail for the sake of a greater cause. This man hated evil and preached a fierce abstinence from sin. He was an unabashed radical. Yet, he had been personally transformed by grace to the point that he was willing to forgo freedom for the sake of an unjust captor.
Frankly, I'm not that nice. I want the bad guys apprehended swiftly and permanently. I'm selective with forgiveness and think that it is mine to dispense. Yet, the essence of forgiveness is realizing that you never had the authority to accurately judge right and wrong, to dispense rewards and punishments. Forgiveness is trusting that God will work out restitution eternally and relinquishing the idea that someone's transgression makes them less of a person than you. Forgiveness by no means ignores the needs for restitution and restoration, but it does ultimately release those responsibilities to God.
As I type, refugees are being kidnapped from United Nation camps in northeastern Africa and sold to traditionally nomadic tribes who imprison them in the middle of the desert in the Sinai peninsula, torturing them brutally in order to extort as much money as possible from impoverished friends and family. Most do not make it out alive, but some have made their way to Israel, badly wounded and destitute. Last night we prayed for the people still imprisoned in the camps, that they would experience miraculous courage and rescue in the middle of hell on earth. We prayed for figurative and even literal earthquakes of freedom in the camps. We prayed for praise and courage regardless of rescue. And then, we prayed for the traffickers, remembering that Paul had been hell-bent on a campaign to murder Christians prior to his own dramatic conversion. Though no one mentioned it at the time, I think we were all remembering this truth:
For when we were still without strength,
in due time Christ died for the ungodly.
For scarcely for a righteous man will one die;
yet perhaps for a good man someone would even dare to die.
But God demonstrates His own love toward us,
in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
Romans 8:6-8
*Story taken verbatim from "The Message: The Bible in Contemporary English".
