A Year Held in His Hands| A New Year Sermon
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So here we go again. Acts Chapter 4.
Honestly, I love this chapter. It’s got a fire in it. Like, if Acts 2 was the flame starting, then Acts 4 is when that flame meets wind. You know what I mean? Everything feels alive, shaking, daring — the early church standing bold even when the whole world seems to say “shut up.”
This chapter, it’s not soft. It’s courage pressed against fear. It’s voices refusing to quiet down. Peter and John, just ordinary men, fishermen types — standing in front of high priests, rulers, and elders. You can almost smell the tension in that council room, heavy and old, mixed with that dry scent of burning lamps and power.
Let’s go verse by verse, and I’ll share what I see, what I feel, what maybe you might see too if you slow down with it a bit.
“And as they spake unto the people, the priests, and the captain of the temple, and the Sadducees, came upon them, being grieved that they taught the people, and preached through Jesus the resurrection from the dead. And they laid hands on them, and put them in hold unto the next day: for it was now eventide.”
Okay, this is already wild. Think about it — Peter and John just healed a lame man at the temple gate in chapter 3. The crowd was buzzing, amazed, shouting praises. And now… they’re arrested. For what? For doing good. For helping someone. For talking about Jesus.
The Sadducees, they didn’t believe in resurrection, so the message itself offended them. Like, truth rubbed them the wrong way. Isn’t that still true? You speak truth — real truth — and somebody somewhere gets mad.
I can imagine the scene: the evening light fading, torches being lit, temple guards marching up with their serious faces. Maybe Peter tried to say, “We’re just telling the people what God did,” but it didn’t matter. They grabbed them, shoved them a little maybe, took them away. The night closes in.
And that’s ministry sometimes — you do what’s right, and you still end up in trouble.
“Howbeit many of them which heard the word believed; and the number of the men was about five thousand.”
Even with Peter and John locked up, the message keeps moving. I love that. You can chain men, but not the gospel.
Five thousand! That’s huge. And remember, that’s just men — not counting women and children. The Spirit was stirring hearts like a windstorm. Sometimes opposition is proof you’re right where God wants you.
It’s like a wildfire — the more they tried to stamp it out, the more it spread. That’s the kingdom way.
“And it came to pass on the morrow, that their rulers, and elders, and scribes, and Annas the high priest, and Caiaphas, and John, and Alexander… set them in the midst, and asked, By what power, or by what name, have ye done this?”
Okay, now it’s official. The big names show up — Annas and Caiaphas, the same folks involved in Jesus’ trial not too long ago. You can almost feel Peter’s memory flashing back — that cold night when he denied Christ three times. Standing by the fire, scared and broken.
But this time? This time something’s different. The Holy Spirit in him gives him boldness he didn’t have before.
The question they ask — “By what power or what name?” — is almost funny. They know. They know what name. But asking it gives them control, like they’re the judges here. But God’s about to flip that table.
“Then Peter, filled with the Holy Ghost, said unto them, Ye rulers of the people, and elders of Israel…”
And here it comes. Peter opens his mouth, and you can almost hear heaven behind his words. He doesn’t stutter now. He’s not hiding.
He says, basically, “If you’re asking about how this man was healed — it’s by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, but whom God raised from the dead.”
Whew. Right there, he drops the truth like a hammer. He names Jesus boldly, he names their guilt, and he names God’s power. That’s not timid faith. That’s Spirit-led fire.
And then verse 12 — one of the strongest declarations in Scripture:
“Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.”
That verse gives me chills every single time. Because in a world full of “many ways” talk, Peter says, “No, there’s only one way — Jesus.” It’s exclusive, but it’s also beautiful, because that name is open to anyone.
I sometimes wonder what it felt like in that room — silence maybe, or murmuring, the priests shifting uncomfortably, someone clearing his throat, trying to act unbothered. But deep down, they knew something divine had just spoken through an uneducated fisherman.
“Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were unlearned and ignorant men, they marvelled; and they took knowledge of them, that they had been with Jesus.”
Oh this verse right here. This one cuts deep.
They weren’t scholars. They weren’t trained rabbis. They didn’t have credentials or letters after their names. But they had something better — they had been with Jesus.
You can’t fake that. It shows. It’s like a glow that never quite leaves you. You walk different. You talk with quiet power.
I remember once, years ago, I met this old man at a small countryside church — he could barely read, but when he prayed, it felt like the whole room trembled. He didn’t know Greek or theology, but he knew Jesus. I think of that man every time I read this verse. That’s what it means to truly be with Him.
They see the healed man standing there — the living proof — and they can’t deny it. So they step aside, whispering among themselves like politicians, trying to figure out how to stop this wildfire.
“What shall we do to these men? for that indeed a notable miracle hath been done by them is manifest… but that it spread no further, let us straitly threaten them.”
It’s almost ironic. They know it’s real, they admit it privately — “a notable miracle hath been done.” But instead of believing, they choose suppression. Pride can blind even religious hearts.
So they call Peter and John back in and basically say, “Don’t speak or teach in Jesus’ name anymore.”
Imagine telling a man who saw the resurrected Christ to stop talking about Him. Good luck with that.
“But Peter and John answered and said unto them, Whether it be right in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than unto God, judge ye. For we cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard.”
Oh, that’s one of the boldest lines in the Bible. “We cannot but speak.”
In other words, we can’t help it.
It’s not rebellion, it’s obedience to a higher calling. They’d seen too much to stay silent.
Sometimes I think — what if we all had that same urgency today? Not forced preaching, but the kind of witness that just spills out because it’s real. You don’t have to make people talk about what they love. You love Jesus deeply enough, He’ll just come out of your mouth naturally.
The rulers threaten them again, but they can’t punish them because of the people. Everyone saw the healed man — over 40 years old — walking around joyfully.
It’s funny how miracles make even skeptics nervous. Truth puts pressure on power.
And the apostles? They’re free, but they’re not quiet. They go right back to their people, to prayer, to praise.
This is one of my favorite sections. Instead of praying for safety, they pray for boldness.
“Lord, thou art God, which hast made heaven, and earth, and the sea…”
They start with worship — recognizing who God is. Then they quote Psalm 2 — “Why do the heathen rage?” — reminding themselves that opposition was always part of the story.
And then they ask:
“Grant unto thy servants, that with all boldness they may speak thy word.”
That’s such a beautiful prayer. They’re not asking for an easier path. They’re asking for courage to keep walking the hard one.
And God answers instantly — verse 31 says:
“And when they had prayed, the place was shaken where they were assembled together; and they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and they spake the word of God with boldness.”
The place shook! Can you imagine that? Maybe the floor trembled, the walls hummed, like the Spirit saying, “I’m here.”
There’s something about that moment that always gives me chills. A church united, praying not for comfort but courage — and heaven responds physically.
“And the multitude of them that believed were of one heart and of one soul.”
That’s rare. One heart, one soul. No competition, no jealousy, no “my ministry versus yours.” Just one.
They shared everything. Nobody said “mine” or “yours.” And the apostles gave testimony with great power. Grace was upon them all.
It says that those who had land or houses sold them and brought the money to the apostles to distribute to anyone in need. It wasn’t forced communism — it was voluntary compassion. Love in action.
Imagine that kind of community today — no one lonely, no one hungry, everyone open-handed.
You could probably smell bread baking somewhere nearby, hear laughter and prayer mixed in the same room. Maybe someone strumming a simple tune on an old stringed instrument, children running in and out. The church was alive. Real.
“And Joses, who by the apostles was surnamed Barnabas (which is, being interpreted, The son of consolation), a Levite, and of the country of Cyprus, having land, sold it, and brought the money, and laid it at the apostles’ feet.”
Ah, here comes Barnabas — his name literally means “Son of Encouragement.” What a beautiful name to have, right? I think of him as that calm, steady guy everyone likes being around. He didn’t need the spotlight; he just wanted to help.
He sells his land — maybe it was family property, maybe something precious — and lays it at the apostles’ feet, no boasting, no announcement, just simple generosity.
Barnabas will become a key player later, traveling with Paul, bridging gaps between people, always comforting others. This little act of giving right here sets the tone for who he is — selfless, kind, Spirit-filled.
When I sit with Acts 4 for a while, it starts to sink in how powerful simple obedience is.
Peter and John weren’t superheroes. They were just available. They didn’t have status or strategy, but they had faith and the Holy Spirit. That’s what made the difference.
And the church — oh, how they loved each other. They didn’t hoard or hide. They prayed, they shared, they stood together under pressure.
Maybe that’s what we’ve lost sometimes in modern Christianity — that trembling courage that comes from truly believing. We talk about revival, but Acts 4 shows revival wasn’t a conference; it was a community that refused to bow to fear.
One night, a few years back, I was sitting alone in my small apartment reading this very chapter. The city noise outside was buzzing — sirens, dogs barking, someone arguing on the street below. And I got to verse 31, “the place was shaken.”
And I whispered, “Lord, shake this place too.”
Not literally (though part of me kinda wished it would happen), but shake me. Shake my apathy, my hesitation, my comfort. Because maybe the world doesn’t need louder Christians — it needs truer ones.
That’s what Peter and John were — true. Real. Fearless not because they were brave men by nature, but because they’d seen a risen Savior.
Opposition proves growth – If you’re never resisted, maybe you’re not pushing deep enough into light.
Boldness comes from being filled with the Spirit, not self-confidence.
Unity is the soil for miracles. When the church becomes “one heart and one soul,” grace flows freely.
Generosity is evidence of revival. When hearts are transformed, wallets open naturally.
You don’t need titles to testify. You just need to be with Jesus.
Acts 4 isn’t just history — it’s a mirror.
Every believer, every church, every generation faces the same question:
Will we obey God or bow to fear?
And the answer that echoes from this chapter, through prison cells and shaking houses, is this:
“We cannot but speak the things we have seen and heard.”
Let that be us too. Not perfect, not polished, but real.
People who’ve been with Jesus — and it shows.
You know, reading Acts 4 always does something to me. It kinda shakes me a little inside — like a soft but strong reminder that faith isn’t meant to sit quietly in a corner. It’s supposed to breathe, to speak, to shine.
So, how do we apply Acts 4 today, right now, in our world where saying the name of Jesus can still make people uncomfortable or even angry?
Let’s break it down piece by piece — not fancy theology, just real-life lessons from their boldness, their prayer, their unity, their courage.
Peter and John didn’t have backup plans or lawyers waiting outside the temple. They got arrested for doing good — for healing a man and talking about Jesus. That’s crazy if you think about it.
But they didn’t back down.
That’s the first application: boldness doesn’t mean fearlessness; it means obedience even when you’re scared.
Maybe for us it’s not standing before a council, but it’s standing in a workplace, or family, or online where people roll their eyes when you mention faith. I’ve been there. You start to shrink your words — “Oh, I just believe in, uh, spirituality” — instead of saying the name that’s above every name.
But Acts 4 reminds us — there’s power in that name, and it’s worth speaking.
Sometimes I think boldness today might look like praying out loud in public even when people look at you weird. Or saying “I’ll pray for you” and meaning it. Or posting something about God’s goodness even when the algorithm doesn’t like it. Small acts of courage — that’s how revival starts.
Peter wasn’t eloquent. He wasn’t a scholar. The religious leaders literally called him “unlearned and ignorant.” But still, when he spoke, the room listened. Why? Because he was filled with the Holy Spirit.
That’s the second big thing — our power doesn’t come from personality or training. It comes from presence.
We sometimes think we need more knowledge to be useful to God, but Acts 4 flips that upside down. The world recognized that Peter and John had been with Jesus. That’s it. That’s the source.
You can go to seminary, read theology, memorize Greek verbs — and still miss the power that comes from just spending time with Him. Real transformation happens in quiet prayer moments, in surrender, in being still long enough for God to breathe through you.
The apostles faced immediate opposition right after the miracle. Like, not even a full day of celebration — boom, they’re arrested.
That hits home. Because when good things start happening in your spiritual life, resistance usually follows. It’s almost like a spiritual law — light draws conflict.
So the next time something discouraging happens after a step of faith, don’t assume you did something wrong. It might actually mean you’re doing something right.
The devil doesn’t waste time fighting people who pose no threat.
Peter and John didn’t quit, they didn’t hide. They went deeper. They prayed more. They pushed harder. That’s our model. Faith that bends but doesn’t break.
This one always gets me. The believers, after hearing about the threats, didn’t say, “Lord, please keep us safe,” or “Protect us from persecution.” No — they prayed, “Lord, give us boldness to speak Your word.”
That’s such a different mindset.
If I’m being honest, most of my prayers lean toward comfort — “Lord, make this easier,” “Fix that problem.” But Acts 4 believers wanted courage, not comfort.
Maybe that’s the prayer we need to learn again. “God, give me boldness in this office, this classroom, this family, this generation. Shake the ground if You have to, but don’t let me go quiet.”
And when they prayed that prayer, the place literally shook. Imagine being in that room — your knees trembling, walls vibrating, hearts bursting. That’s what happens when heaven agrees with earth.
It’s easy to overlook how powerful that unity in verses 32–35 is. The church wasn’t just bold in preaching — they were beautifully generous.
Nobody said, “This is mine.” They lived like one family, one heartbeat. When someone was in need, others sold land, gave freely, and trusted the apostles to distribute it.
That’s what true revival looks like — love in motion.
You can almost smell the bread baking, hear the laughter, feel the warmth of that early church community. There was no “me vs. you.” Just us.
That’s the challenge today, right? The modern church can sometimes feel divided — denominations arguing, Christians online fighting over opinions. Acts 4 says, “Stop fighting, start sharing.” Be of one soul.
Real unity doesn’t mean agreeing on everything; it means loving through everything.
Barnabas shows up at the end, quietly selling his land and giving the money to help others. He doesn’t make a speech. He doesn’t post it online. He just gives.
And that simple act — that unseen obedience — sets him on a path to become one of the most encouraging men in the New Testament.
Sometimes, our greatest impact begins in small acts of generosity no one notices but God.
Maybe it’s sharing food with a neighbor, or donating quietly, or paying someone’s rent anonymously. Acts 4 reminds us — giving isn’t about the size of the gift, it’s about the size of the heart behind it.
And God sees that. Every single time.
That’s the line that sticks: “They knew they had been with Jesus.”
There’s no substitute for that. You can attend church, post verses, do ministry — but if you haven’t really been with Him, people can tell. And if you have been with Him, people can tell that too.
It’s in the way you handle stress, how you forgive, how you speak to waiters, how you drive when traffic’s bad, how you love difficult people. Those small, unseen places reveal whether we’ve been in His presence or just around His name.
The more time you spend with Jesus, the more you start reflecting Him naturally. You don’t even have to try. It’s like how someone who spends time in the kitchen ends up smelling like spices — you can’t help it.
Be with Him. That’s the application. Not just on Sundays, but daily, hourly, through everything.
Peter’s words still echo across time: “There is no other name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved.”
That name — Jesus — still heals, still saves, still forgives.
It’s not just a theological statement, it’s reality. There’s no Plan B, no alternative gospel, no shortcut. The name that made the lame man walk is the same name that can raise broken people from despair, addiction, and fear today.
When you pray, speak that name. When you worship, lift that name. When you don’t know what to do — whisper that name.
Everything changes when Jesus becomes not just a topic, but a person you know.
I love how that prayer meeting ended — with the ground shaking. You can almost imagine the dust falling from the ceiling, lamps swaying, people gasping and then laughing in awe.
That physical shaking symbolized something deeper — the Spirit stirring their souls.
Sometimes God still shakes things. Not always physically, but spiritually. He shakes your comfort zone, your plans, your priorities. He does it to remind you that His kingdom can’t be built on stability — it’s built on surrender.
So if you feel your life shaking a little right now — don’t panic. Maybe God’s doing an Acts 4 work in you. He’s shaking what’s temporary so that what’s eternal can stand strong.
That’s the heartbeat of this chapter. “We cannot but speak of what we’ve seen and heard.”
It’s a calling that doesn’t fade with time.
If Jesus has done something real in your life, tell it. Even if your voice trembles. Even if people roll their eyes. Even if it costs you popularity.
Because the world is still full of people sitting lame by the temple gate — waiting for someone with courage to say, “In the name of Jesus Christ, rise up and walk.”
Maybe that person is you.
Sometimes I think — maybe the modern church is living in its own Acts 4 season.
Pressure is rising. Voices of truth are mocked. People are tired, confused, searching. And in the middle of that, God’s Spirit is whispering the same thing He did back then:
“Speak boldly. Love deeply. Stay united. Trust Me.”
The shaking isn’t the end — it’s the beginning of something holy.
Maybe you’re Peter, finding your voice again after failure. Maybe you’re John, quiet but faithful. Or maybe you’re Barnabas, giving quietly behind the scenes. Whoever you are — Acts 4 is your invitation to live unashamed.
So, today, wherever you are — whisper this little prayer:
“Lord, give me the boldness to speak what I’ve seen and heard. Shake me if You must, but fill me with Your Spirit.”
Then watch. He’ll do it. Maybe not with trembling walls, but with trembling hearts.
Because the same Spirit that filled Peter and John is still moving today — right here, right now, in you.
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