The Gospel is Worth It: Lessons from Acts

Lately, I’ve been spending time in the book of Acts, and it’s been stirring something deep in me. There’s something awe-inspiring about watching the early church unfold—how the gospel was spreading like wildfire, even in the face of fierce opposition. Over and over again, we see that persecution did not stop the mission of God. Instead, it seemed to propel it forward.

God kept raising up faithful men and women—ordinary people who were empowered by the Holy Spirit to do extraordinary things. In Acts 4, Peter and John stand boldly before religious authorities, declaring the truth of the gospel without hesitation. Their courage wasn’t from themselves; it was a result of being filled with the Holy Spirit.

Then there's Stephen in Acts 7—a man full of faith and the Spirit, who proclaimed Jesus even as stones were hurled at him. He literally gave his life for the message he believed in. That kind of unwavering conviction has been both challenging and inspiring to me.

But the chapter that really made me pause and reflect recently was Acts 14. Paul had just been stoned in Lystra—dragged out of the city and left for dead by people from Antioch and Iconium. Most of us, if we had faced that level of hostility, would have taken it as a sign to take a break or change direction. But not Paul. The very next day, he and Barnabas travel to Derbe and continue preaching the gospel. And then—this part blows my mind—they return to the very cities where Paul was attacked: Antioch and Iconium. Why would he do that?

Acts 14:22 gives us the answer: “strengthening the disciples and encouraging them to remain true to the faith.” Paul didn’t avoid discomfort or danger. He willingly walked back into it—so that the new believers could be encouraged, so that the church could grow stronger, so that the gospel could continue to advance. There was nothing in it for him, at least not in terms of personal comfort or safety. In fact, the only thing it guaranteed was more risk. But Paul counted it all worth it for the sake of Christ.

That kind of boldness had me looking inward. I had to ask myself some tough questions. Do I hesitate to share the gospel with someone because I’m afraid of being rejected? Do I shrink back because someone might “look” unapproachable? How often do I let fear or overthinking stop me from simply opening my mouth?

Sometimes I make excuses like, “They look upset. I don’t want to make their day worse.” But what if the gospel is exactly what they need to hear to find peace or hope? What if that moment is how they’ll know Jesus? What if I let the moment pass, and they never hear the truth that could have changed their eternity—just because I was in my own head?

(And yes, I’m preaching to myself here too. I really am a scaredy-cat when it comes to this sometimes!)

At the beginning of the year, I read something that stuck with me. It said: “Fear doesn’t mean you have to back down or abort mission. You can do it scared.” That has stayed with me. Because being afraid isn’t the problem—being paralyzed by fear is. The good news is that we’re not doing this alone. Jesus knew fear would be part of the journey, which is why He gave us His Spirit. In Matthew 28:18–20, He promised to be with us always, even to the end of the age.

And that same Holy Spirit who emboldened Peter, John, Stephen, and Paul is the same Spirit who lives in us today. The God who empowered the early church is still empowering believers now. He is still calling us to be bold. He is still building His church. And He’s doing it through everyday people—people like you and me.

How amazing is that?

So wherever we are—whether it’s at school, work, in our families, or in random encounters—may we remember this: we are not alone. We are led by the same Spirit who turned the world upside down through the early believers. We don’t need to be perfect. We don’t need to be fearless. We just need to be willing.

Because the gospel is worth it.