Day 258: Acts 16:25–34

About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them (v. 25).

The two bloodied servants of God—Paul and Silas—had been taken to a dungeon and placed in stocks, unable to move, pain wracking their bodies. Yet though they were bound in iron chains, they found freedom to sing.

We cheat the faithful servants from showing us God’s glory if we believe God chose to anesthetize their pain. The awful truth is that death would have been a relief. The challenge of their moment was living until the pain became bearable—pain that is never more vivid than in the midnight hour. The night lacks the kindness of the day when demands and activities distract. Each time their hearts beat, every nerve ending throbbed with pain. In spite of their anguish, their prayers ascended before the throne, and God gave them “songs in the night” (Job 35:10).

Prayers come naturally when we are distressed—but songs? Finding notes is difficult when your body is gripped with pain. Nonetheless, these few notes found their way into a melody, and their melodies turned into hymns. Every stanza issued a fresh strength and their voices were unchained—penetrating walls and bars.

The most difficult part of my service as a Sunday school teacher has been watching my members bury loved ones. Several years ago one of my members lost her fifteen-year-old son in an automobile accident. I will never forget accompanying our friend to the funeral home and helping her choose a casket. All four of us walked to the car and drove away without saying a word. Within a couple of blocks, one of us began to cry, and then the rest joined her without saying a word. Then after several minutes of silence, another began to sing with broken notes, “I love you, Lord . . . and I lift my voice . . . to worship You . . . O, my soul rejoice.” I could hardly believe the nerve of my fellow member to sing at a time like that. But before I could look at her with proper horror, the mother’s best friend joined in, “Take joy, my King, in what You hear . . . may it be a sweet, sweet sound in Your ear.”

The words fell from their lips a second time and to my shock, the brokenhearted mother began to sing. If she could sing, I knew I could not remain silent. So we sang the rest of the way home that day. Not one of us had a solo voice, and yet I wonder if I will ever hear a sound so beautiful again. I knew then what God meant when He told us to lift up the sacrifice of praise. When praise is the last thing that comes naturally to us and we choose to worship Him anyway, we’ve had the privilege of offering a genuine sacrifice of praise.

When we sing a midnight song or speak praises in the darkest hours, the chains of hopelessness not only drop from our ankles but sometimes from the ankles of those who listen. We can preach the gospel in many ways, but the message is never more clear than when God’s people refuse to cease their praises during intense suffering.

In their bondage, Paul and Silas were free to sing. They were also free to stay. Finally their songs were eclipsed by the rumblings of an earthquake. The foundations of the prison trembled before an awesome God. The prison doors flew open, every chain was loosed, and the jailer drew his sword to kill himself. Paul’s words to him penetrate my heart: “Don’t harm yourself!” (Acts 16:28 hcsb). How many people have felt compelled to harm themselves over hopelessness? The jailer knew he would be held responsible for their escape. “Don’t harm yourself, because all of us are here!” shouted Paul.

Sometimes God frees us from chains so we can turn our backs on our slavery and walk away like Peter in Acts 12. He was free to leave. As a result, the church that was praying for his release was edified. Other times God frees us from chains so we can remain where we are to share the message of freedom with other captives. Paul was free to stay, not to leave. Because he did, a man asked, “‘What must I do to be saved?’” (16:30). And an entire household found sweet liberty.

I met a young man who had experienced freedom from the bondage of homosexuality. Although he was a dedicated servant, God had never appointed him to share that part of his testimony nor minister to those still chained in that lifestyle. Like Peter, he had been freed to leave. Yet after God delivered me from the bondage of my childhood victimization, He called me to share my basic testimony and reach out to other survivors of abuse. I had been freed to stay. Both my friend and I experienced the glorious freedom of Christ. One was free to leave and one was free to stay, but we each trust God with His perfect plan for our lives.

God reserves the right to use His servants and their experiences in different ways. Let’s try to resist copying a blueprint from another person’s ministry. God is very creative, and He always has purpose in the specific ways He chooses to use us. Be willing to allow Him to put some things to public use and other things to private use. As life draws us to extremes, may we pass our tests as Paul and Silas did—with a song.