Less People to Love
August 23, 2026
Preached by Benjamin Vrbicek
Discussion Questions
Where in your life are you afraid and tempted to flex your own strength rather than trusting God for his strength? Why do you think that is?
Much of Romans 9 is complicated. But read some of the verses in the middle where Paul describes what God was doing in raising up Pharaoh. How does what Paul says about Pharaoh also apply to Herod? What effect does this have on you?
Have you ever really struggled to forgive someone who has hurt you? Look up Romans 12:19 and what Paul says about vengeance. How do you see this displayed in the passage? How do you need to bring this more into your life?
How does a right understanding of the story of Passover bring humility? What did everyone in the Exodus story need and have to do as a response? How is this same need we all have ultimately answered in Christ?
Scripture Reading
Acts 12:24
24 But the word of God increased and multiplied.
We’ve been in a sermon series called “More People to Love,” exploring how God built and is still building a humble, holy, hungry, happy church. To see this, we’re preaching through the summary verses sprinkled throughout the book of Acts, where the author describes the growth God brought to his church despite fear and chaos also present.
As we were talking about this at my house with our family and this week’s sermon, I mentioned that the story around the summary in Acts 12:24, the verse just read for us, involves a guy eaten by worms before he died. As one preacher pointed out, that’s an unusual order: Typically we die and then are eaten by worms.
As we talked, someone in our family suggested we title this sermon “Less People to Love”—so we did. Parts of the story today are strange; other parts are funny; other parts are deadly serious.
Let’s pray together, and we’ll look at this closer.
“Dear Heavenly Father . . .”
The passage tells of evil done against Christians. I wonder if some of you have ever had such evil done to you by another person that you wished the other person were dead? Perhaps the evil wasn’t against you directly but toward someone you love, maybe abuse toward a child, and that’s what causes you to wish the person who did it were dead.
Anger like this has been a regular occurrence among God’s people throughout Scripture. Hear just three lines from three different Psalms:
Psalm 10:15: Break the arm of the wicked and evildoer; call his wickedness to account till you find none.
Psalm 74:10: How long, O God, is the foe to scoff? Is the enemy to revile your name forever?
Psalm 139:19–20: Oh that you would slay the wicked, O God! . . . They speak against you with malicious intent; your enemies take your name in vain.
Three different Psalms all saying something similar: “God, don’t you see the evil being done?” they ask. “Please act, please move, please do something, God.”
In the book of Revelation, the book about last things, we’re given a picture of part of what is happening in the present heaven, a picture of martyrs crying out for justice.
9 … I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain for the word of God and for the witness they had borne. 10 They cried out with a loud voice, “O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?” (Rev. 6:9–10)
Earnest prayers that ask God to act have been a regular occurrence among God’s people. Don’t you think that when the Hebrews were treated with evil by Pharaoh—when Pharaoh enslaved them, mistreated them, killed them—don’t you think God’s people could have wished that Pharaoh were dead? Indeed, in Psalm 136 the people of God celebrate in song how God cast Pharaoh into the Red Sea.
And yet, even there, there is the nuance we need to see. God doesn’t build a holy, humble, hungry, happy church when we let fear and anger lead us to flex our strength and take matters into our own hands. In all these places I’ve quoted, yes, the pattern is anger and fear mingling in earnest prayer. But the pattern looks to God to work.
In the book of Romans, Paul commands Christians, “Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.’” This verse highlights the main temptation for the people of God when we are afraid, when we are mistreated, when great evil is perpetrated against us: that fear would cause us to take matters into our own hands rather than go to God.
I say all this is all to set up exactly what we see across this section of the book of Acts. In Acts 12 we see the two extremes of where fear can lead: fear can lead you to flex your own strength, or fear can lead you to faith.
1. The fear that leads you to flex
In the passage, the wrong response to fear, the flexing of our own strength, the taking of wrath into our own hands, is embodied by a king named Herod. Repeatedly in this chapter, when Herod is afraid, when he feels threatened, he flexes his own strength. It does not go well for him in the end. Look how chapter 12 begins. I’ll read the vv. 1–5.
12 About that time Herod the king laid violent hands on some who belonged to the church. 2 He killed James the brother of John with the sword, 3 and when he saw that it pleased the Jews, he proceeded to arrest Peter also. This was during the days of Unleavened Bread. 4 And when he had seized him, he put him in prison, delivering him over to four squads of soldiers to guard him, intending after the Passover to bring him out to the people. 5 So Peter was kept in prison, but earnest prayer for him was made to God by the church.
In v. 1, this is not the laying on of hands in affirmation and commission. Herod is laying on hands for violence. The church was growing, and he was afraid. So he killed a key leader, one of the innermost three of the apostles: Peter, James, and John.
This kind of flexing his power was what Herod did. In fact, we could call it a family trait. All four of the Herods in the New Testament can get confusing. We meet a grandfather in the Gospel of Matthew who kills all the baby boys when he hears of the birth of a new king. They call that Herod, Herod the Great. The son of Herod the Great is alive during the ministry of Jesus. The Herod in Acts 12 is the grandson of Herod the Great, and he has a son who later puts Paul on trial (Acts 25). Again, it’s confusing—but what you need to know is that the family line kept power at all costs, even by killing their family members if they became suspected threats to the throne.
Two more details about this Herod in Acts 12. First, he grew up in Rome, becoming friendly with the future Emperors, who then gave him tremendous power. Second, there’s a family connection to the Jewish people through marriage.
Back to the passage. Again, vv. 2–3 says, “He killed James the brother of John with the sword, and when he saw that it pleased the Jews, he proceeded to arrest Peter also.”
Herod put Peter in custody, guarded by four squads of soldiers, with chains and prison bars. If this flex feels like overkill, it is. Peter is a fishman, not a trained swordsman. We see that in the Gospels (John 18:10). Maybe Herod’s show of force is because Peter escaped from jail once before (Acts 5). But still, we are supposed to read this overkill flex as odd and erratic, an action driven by fear. Indeed, we often see the insanity of our sin and fear when we overreact, when we have disproportionate responses.
Imagine your neighbor gets a poodle puppy, and he’s afraid it will escape. So you see him build a double-walled fence, lined at the top with razor wire, maximum security style. He hires guards with rifles, inside and outside the fence, and more guards in towers—all for the poodle puppy. You watch all this and wonder, Couldn’t you have just put the puppy in a laundry basket? Herod is afraid.
Despite Herod’s fear and Herod flexing his strength, Peter gets out. I won’t read the escape details. But after he gets out, Herod frantically searches for Peter. He can’t find him. So he kills the guards. Then in v. 19 we read that he leaves Jerusalem, moving his base of operations to Caesarea, a more Roman area where he could play to his strengths and connections.
Then Luke gives us a short story about Herod and worms. Look at v. 20.
20 Now Herod was angry with the people of Tyre and Sidon, and they came to him with one accord, and having persuaded Blastus, the king’s chamberlain, they asked for peace, because their country depended on the king’s country for food.
We don’t know the exact cause, but we’re told Herod is mad at them and cuts off their food supply. Through diplomacy they seek peace and court favor from one of Herod’s personal assistants. Then, note the wording Luke uses in v. 21 for how Herod responds:
21 On an appointed day Herod put on his royal robes, took his seat upon the throne, and delivered an oration to them.
Notice the flexes: he appoints a day in the future, making them wait on his timing; he puts on royal robes and sits on a throne, showing who is in charge. A Jewish historian named Josephus, writing at the same time, also tells this story in similar terms, adding that Herod put on a silver robe that shone in the sun. And then he delivers an oration. The people flatter him, shouting in v. 22,
“Qeou/ fwnh. kai. ouvk avnqrw,pouÅ Qeou/ fwnh. kai. ouvk avnqrw,pouÅ”
“Voice of a god and not of a man! Voice of a god and not of a man!”
Herod must have loved it. But not for long. We read in v. 23,
23 Immediately an angel of the Lord struck him down, because he did not give God the glory, and he was eaten by worms and breathed his last.
A powerful man is killed by the weakest creature. Less people to love—wild!
2. The fear that leads you to faith
Instead of fear leading us to flex whatever strength we think we have, our fears should lead us to faith. All throughout the passage we see the church in faith. Now, surely, the church and Christians do not always respond the way we should to fear. But here, God is working in such a way that we get the reminder and the encouragement that when we trust him, even when we are deathly afraid, he can provide everything we need.
Notice v. 5 again. When Peter is in prison, we read, “So Peter was kept in prison, but earnest prayer for him was made to God by the church.” You don’t see this fearful church forming an armed militia. Instead, when the people of God are afraid and we’re angry over the evil that’s been done, that fear leads to faith and faith leads to prayer.
Luke describes these prayers in as earnest prayers. When you hear that, know that this does not mean professional-sounding prayers, the prayers we often pray in church.
Earnest prayers are the prayers of Jesus. Earnest prayers are “prayers from the Garden of Gethsemane,” as when Jesus prayed in anguish and sweat drops of blood. They are “prayers over the city of Jerusalem,” as when Jesus wept, lamenting how often he longed to gather his people to himself like a mother hen, but they would not have it.
Earnest prayers might, at times, look more like yelling or sobbing with snot running down your face. It’s possible their prayer meeting started with some planned prayers, and then they heard off in a corner Peter’s wife start to sniffle as her shoulders shook and she caught her breath, and the room lost it. Herod killed James, and he intended to do the same to Peter the next day. “How long, O God, is the foe to scoff?” they cried.
Church, you don’t have to pray safe, tidy prayers when you feel unsafe. As community groups get together again in the fall, I hope as we grow in our maturity and we grow in our love for and familiarity with one another, I hope we grow to care more about praying earnest prayers to God than about appearing to pray polished prayers to God.
Some of you have heard us talk about the prayer initiative for this fall related to growth and building stuff. We asked people to set an alarm on our phones at 9:29, to pray that by September 2029 our church could be in a new building.
That’s fine, even good. But I hope a new building is not the pinnacle of our praying. Instead, I hope we pray so dramatically and earnestly that the building prayers follow behind that and could almost be seen as small. I hope we pray that God would so push back the kingdom of darkness, that God would save people on the edge of addition, that God would bring harmony among diverse people in the good news of Jesus, that God would save the lost and end wars and reach the nations and Christ would come again, I hope as we pray, How Long, O Lord, such that our earnest praying would make praying for a new building at 9:29 almost seem easy. Which of course it is for God.
Well, God answers their prayers that started in fear and moved to faith. I won’t read the escape verses, but I’ll tell you that an angel comes, wakes up Peter, and then together they just walk out. All that double-wall razor wire fencing and guards with rifles didn’t work. Even after all that flex of human strength, walking out of jail proved easier than walking through a couple of cobwebs.
The plans of God cannot be thwarted. In fact, the whole passage is set up to highlight what happens when we leave room for God to work. As great as Peter is and as great as the church is, Luke tells the story in such a way, even a humorous way, that we know for sure the hero is God. Look at vv. 12–17.
12 When he realized this, he went to the house of Mary, the mother of John whose other name was Mark, where many were gathered together and were praying. 13 And when he knocked at the door of the gateway, a servant girl named Rhoda came to answer. 14 Recognizing Peter’s voice, in her joy she did not open the gate but ran in and reported that Peter was standing at the gate. 15 They said to her, “You are out of your mind.” But she kept insisting that it was so, and they kept saying, “It is his angel!” 16 But Peter continued knocking, and when they opened, they saw him and were amazed. 17 But motioning to them with his hand to be silent, he described to them how the Lord had brought him out of the prison. And he said, “Tell these things to James and to the brothers.” Then he departed and went to another place.
It’s so wonderful and funny and strange. Yes, the people pray, and that’s good. But the whole story is set up to highlight that God’s people are not the heroes. Note the details.
Notice Peter is sleeping. Some take his sleep as a virtue and a credit of his faith: “He trusted God so much, he just slept,” they say. Maybe. But maybe he prayed and cried until exhaustion took over and he passed out, thinking God hadn’t answered and this would be the last night of his life because he thought he’d be dead in the morning. Regardless, when Peter is least able to contribute to his own rescue, God saves him.
And notice then, when Peter does come to the house, he comes to the house of Mary, presumably a widow, which is to say that God saves using the resources of someone overlooked by society. Church, don’t let society tell you God is done with you.
And notice the humor of it all. The person who greets Peter is so excited that it is Peter that she runs away. She tells the very group gathered that it’s Peter, and they say, “No, it can’t be Peter; it’s probably someone else.” But Luke records that Peter just kept knocking, while the people praying for his release get in an argument. Finally they let him in. Peter tells what happened. Then, quite mysteriously, he just leaves. In v. 17 we read, “Then he departed and went to another place.” Their great leader goes into hiding.
The whole story is designed to highlight the power of God by saving in unexpected ways: God saves not by humans flexing power but by dependent prayers. God saves not by worms and widows and sleepy apostles.
The other aspect of the story that highlights not the power of man but the power of God is the Passover. Indeed, Luke wants us to have the Passover story in our minds as we read. You’ll see Passover flagged several times in this passage. We read of the Feast of Unleavened Bread. That’s the start of the Passover celebration; the people of God made food but didn’t use yeast (unleavened bread) to remind them of the haste with which they would leave Egypt. We also read that Herod intended to bring Peter to trial, presumably to kill him also with a sword by beheading after Passover was over.
Luke wants us to see the way Herod is a kind of Pharaoh from the Old Testament. God relates to Herod as he did to Pharaoh. Through all these details, God invites Herod to stop, to repent, to give God glory. God is saying to him, “Let my people go—or else.”
Rather than leading God’s people to gloat or boast, this strange salvation for Peter and God’s people when God made one less person to love should bring humility and awe and wonder. The people of God should know better than anyone what Passover meant.
You know where the Passover name comes from, right? In the final plague, the people of God were told to kill a spotless lamb, put the blood on their doors, and when they did that, God passed over them. The point being that it’s not about Herod or Pharaoh only; the people of God needed to know that what made them special was not their power to save themselves but God accepting the sacrifice of another. The lamb died in their place, and the wrath of God passed over.
From our vantage with the full Bible, we see how those Passover lambs pointed to the Lamb of God. We need the blood of Jesus so that the wrath of God can be absorbed and we can be passed over in favor. Which we’ll celebrate in communion in a moment.
To come back to where we began, I’ll read again the summary provided by Luke. Surrounded by fear and chaos: “But the word of God increased and multiplied” (12:24). This is what God can do when we take our fears to him and rest in faith.
This morning, I don’t know what makes you feel afraid. I don’t know what makes you feel angry. I don’t know what evil you’ve had done to you that makes you want to take vengeance into your own hands. I don’t know what evil you’ve done to others. But if you would instead leave it with Jesus, he can do more than we can ask or imagine in saving and protecting and providing everything we need to serve him well.
Pray with me as the music team returns, and I’ll set up communion. Let’s pray . . .
