God Is Unstoppable | Acts 5:21b–32

Introduction

Go ahead and open your Bibles with me to Acts chapter 5. We’ll be in the second half of verse 21 through 32 this morning.

By the time we reach this point in Acts, the tension in Jerusalem is unmistakable. The message of Jesus is no longer a curiosity. It is no longer something that can be quietly dismissed or politely ignored. The gospel has become public, disruptive, and unavoidable.

The apostles have been preaching openly. People are listening. Lives are changing. And the religious leaders – the very ones charged with guarding Israel’s faith – are growing increasingly alarmed. What began as skepticism has hardened into opposition. What began as warnings has escalated into arrests.

Just before our passage, the apostles have been put in public custody. Not privately warned. Not quietly corrected. Arrested. Locked away. The expectation is clear: this will end it. This will silence them. This will restore order.

And if we’re honest, that expectation makes sense. Humanly speaking, the authorities hold all the cards. They control the institutions. They control the prisons. They control the consequences. The apostles have no army, no political leverage, no social power. All they have is a message – and now even that message has been declared illegal.

So the question hanging over this passage is not theoretical. It is deeply practical.

• What happens when the gospel collides with authority?

• What happens when obedience to God becomes costly?

• What happens when those in power decide that Christ must be silenced?

And underneath all of that is an even deeper question – one that reaches beyond the apostles and straight into our own hearts: Can the purposes of God actually be stopped?

Because if they can, then fear makes sense. Caution makes sense. Silence makes sense. But if they can’t – if God really is sovereign, if Christ really is risen and reigning – then everything changes.

Acts 5:22–32 answers those questions. But it does not answer them by giving us strategies or slogans. It answers them by lifting our eyes away from human power and fixing them on a risen, exalted Christ.

This passage is not meant to make us feel bold. It is meant to make us feel small – and secure. It humbles us before a God whose purposes move forward calmly, steadily, and irresistibly, even when human authority does everything it can to stand in the way.

There are three truths here, and they are not complicated – but they are heavy.

Here’s what we’ll see today: God is unstoppable. God must be obeyed. And the exalted Christ gives repentance.

Let’s read the text again, and then we’ll walk through it together.

Read Acts 5:21b-32.

Prayer.

Point 1: God Is Unstoppable (vv. 21b–26)

Luke begins with confusion – not courage, not triumph, not celebration.

The officers are sent by the council to retrieve the apostles from prison. This should be routine. The doors were locked. Guards were posted. Everything was secure. The machinery of authority was working exactly as intended.

But when they arrive, something is wrong.

21b Now when the high priest came, and those who were with him, they called together the council, all the senate of the people of Israel, and sent to the prison to have them brought. 22 But when the officers came, they did not find them in the prison, so they returned and reported, 23 “We found the prison securely locked and the guards standing at the doors, but when we opened them we found no one inside.”

Luke is careful here. The doors are still locked. The guards are still at their posts. There is no sign of escape. No explanation is offered. He shows us that the system is intact – but it has failed.

And Luke tells us how the leaders respond:

24 Now when the captain of the temple and the chief priests heard these words, they were greatly perplexed about them, wondering what this would come to. 

That word – perplexed – matters. These are men accustomed to control. They live by order, procedure, and authority. They are not impulsive or chaotic. And yet, in the face of God’s action, they are left unsettled and uncertain. Human authority can look really strong – up until that moment where it is not.

Then comes the report that sharpens the irony:

25 And someone came and told them, “Look! The men whom you put in prison are standing in the temple and teaching the people.” 26 Then the captain with the officers went and brought them, but not by force, for they were afraid of being stoned by the people.

Not hiding. Not regrouping. Not fleeing Jerusalem. They are doing exactly what they were commanded by God to do.

Luke wants us to feel the contrast. The leaders are confused. The apostles are calm. The prison is secure. The message is not.

And what stands behind all of this is the quiet sovereignty of God. Luke does not dramatize the angelic deliverance here. In fact, he barely mentions it at all. That is intentional. The focus is not on spectacle, but on inevitability. God spoke. God commanded. And no human barrier could stop the word of life from being proclaimed.

This humbles us, because we often assume that the progress of the gospel depends on favorable conditions. We think the church advances when doors open, when opposition softens, when culture cooperates. But Acts reminds us that God’s purposes do not require permission.

God does not panic when doors close. God does not retreat when resistance rises. God does not negotiate with human power.

He is unstoppable.

And that means something deeply comforting – and deeply humbling – for us. God does not need us to be impressive. He does not need us to be strategic geniuses. He does not even need us to be particularly strong. His purposes advance because He wills them to advance.

The gospel is not fragile. Christ is not threatened. The church does not survive because of favorable circumstances, but because of sovereign grace.

Point 2: God Must Be Obeyed (vv. 27–29)

The apostles are brought before the council again. This is no longer confusion; now it is confrontation. Verse 27 and 28:

27 And when they had brought them, they set them before the council. And the high priest questioned them, 28 saying, “We strictly charged you not to teach in this name, yet here you have filled Jerusalem with your teaching, and you intend to bring this man's blood upon us.” 

That word strictly tells us something. The leaders are not merely reminding the apostles of a guideline – they are asserting authority. We told you to stop. In their minds, the matter should already be settled.

And then comes the deeper accusation: “You intend to bring this man’s blood upon us.”

That line is revealing. These are the same leaders who demanded Jesus’ crucifixion. They insisted that His blood be on them and on their children. And now, faced with the implications of guilt, they recoil. What once felt righteous now feels threatening.

This is what resistance to God often looks like. It seeks control, but it does not want accountability. It wants authority without responsibility. It wants silence without repentance.

Peter’s response is short, calm, and unflinching:

 “We must obey God rather than men. 

This is a sentence that is so often quoted as this call of triumph – as some sort of battle cry. But here, this is not a battle cry. This is not loud defiance. It is simply submissive. Peter is not asserting independence. He is acknowledging obligation. “We must obey.”

There is no appeal to courage here. No claim of personal strength. Just the recognition that once God has spoken, obedience is no longer a matter of preference.

This is not a blanket call to rebellion. Scripture is clear that governing authorities exist by God’s design and deserve honor. Peter himself has already shown respect for the council by appearing before them and answering their questions. But when human authority directly contradicts the revealed will of God, the hierarchy becomes clear.

God must be obeyed.

And that truth presses on us more deeply than we might expect, because most of us are not facing arrest or imprisonment. Our pressure points are quieter. Approval. Comfort. Relational peace. Fear of being misunderstood. Fear of standing out.

And in those moments, obedience can begin to feel negotiable. We tell ourselves we will obey later. Or more carefully. Or when the cost is lower. But Peter’s words expose a question beneath all of that: Who actually governs our obedience? Not who we confess as Lord – but who we treat as Lord when obedience creates tension.

This is where the passage humbles us. Because obedience is not presented here as heroism, but as inevitability. When God speaks, obedience is simply the proper response of a creature to the Creator, of a servant to a Master, of a redeemed sinner to a saving Lord.

God must be obeyed – not because obedience earns salvation, but because obedience reveals allegiance. And where obedience falters, it is often not courage we lack, but clarity about who truly reigns.

Point 3: The Exalted Christ Gives Repentance (vv. 30–32)

At this point in the passage, Peter does something essential. He does not leave the council with a bare command to obey God. He moves immediately to proclamation. Obligation alone would crush. What follows is Gospel.

And it’s important that we don’t miss that this is the gospel message itself – not a summary, not an implication, not a later reflection, but the heart of it.

30 The God of our fathers raised Jesus, whom you killed by hanging him on a tree. 

Peter begins where the gospel must begin – with a real person in real history. Jesus was not an idea. He was not a symbol. He was born, lived among His people, and was publicly executed. The cross was not an accident or a misunderstanding. It was the place where human guilt was fully exposed. “You killed Him.”

The gospel never avoids that reality. It tells the truth about our sin before it tells the truth about God’s grace. But Peter does not stop at death.

31 God exalted him at his right hand as Leader and Savior, to give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins. 

Here is the great reversal. The one they rejected, God raised. The one they condemned, God vindicated. The one they humiliated, God exalted.

This is the gospel story unfolding in just a few sentences: Christ lived, Christ died, Christ was raised, and Christ now reigns. The resurrection declares that sin has been dealt with. The exaltation declares that Christ’s work has been accepted. The throne declares that His saving work is finished and authoritative.

Jesus is not merely alive again – He is enthroned. He is seated at the right hand of God, the place of rule, honor, and final authority. And Peter is clear: He reigns not only as Leader, but as Savior. Authority and mercy meet in Him.

And then Peter tells us what this reigning Christ does from His throne: He gives repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins.

This is where the gospel presses deepest into our pride. Repentance is not something we generate in order to qualify for grace. It is something Christ gives because grace has already been secured. Even our turning is a gift purchased by His life, death, and resurrection. Even our sorrow for sin is mercy flowing down from a victorious Savior.

Forgiveness comes the same way. Not through moral improvement. Not through religious effort. But through the finished work of a crucified, risen, and exalted Christ.

This is the good news: the same Jesus whom men killed is the Jesus who now offers mercy. The same cross that revealed our guilt is the cross that secured our forgiveness. The same resurrection that vindicated Christ is the resurrection that guarantees life for all who belong to Him.

Peter then widens the scene:

32 And we are witnesses to these things, and so is the Holy Spirit, whom God has given to those who obey him.”

This is courtroom language. God is testifying. The apostles are testifying. And the Holy Spirit Himself stands as God’s confirming witness that this gospel is true.

And that means neutrality is no longer possible. To resist this witness is not merely to disagree with men – it is to resist God. But to receive it is not self-improvement or self-reform. It is salvation. It is bowing before a reigning Christ and receiving from Him what we could never produce ourselves.

So don’t miss what Peter is doing here. He is not calling them to clean themselves up. He is proclaiming what God has already done in Christ. Born into our world. Obedient in our place. Crucified for our sin. Raised in victory. Exalted in glory. And now giving repentance and forgiveness to sinners who know they need it.

That is not preparation for the gospel. That is the gospel itself. And it leaves us humbled – not before a command, but before a Savior who reigns. The Savior, the exalted Christ gives repentance.

Application

So how does a passage like this meet us where we live?

Not by calling us to become apostles. Not by asking us to seek persecution. And not by turning obedience into a performance.

It meets us by quietly asking who truly governs our lives.

Most of us will never stand before a council like this. But all of us face moments where obedience to Christ comes with a cost – moments where His Word presses against our comfort, our reputation, or our desire to keep peace.

Sometimes that pressure is loud. More often, it’s subtle. It shows up when silence feels easier than speaking truth. When delay feels wiser than obedience. When we treat God’s Word as one voice among many instead of the final authority.

And if we’re honest, many of us don’t outright disobey God – we negotiate with Him. We obey selectively. We obey eventually. We obey when the cost feels manageable.

Acts 5 reminds us that obedience is not rooted in bravery, but in clarity about who reigns. The apostles didn’t obey because they were fearless. They obeyed because they were convinced that Jesus is Lord.

And that conviction humbles us, because it exposes how often our disobedience is not about fear of consequences, but about fear of losing control.

At the same time, this passage guards us from despair. Because the same Christ who commands obedience also gives repentance. The same Lord who exposes our divided loyalties also supplies mercy for real sinners.

So the question this passage leaves us with is not, “Have you been obedient enough?”
It is, “Are you living as though Christ truly reigns?”

And where you see hesitation, resistance, or quiet compromise in your own heart, the answer is not self-correction – it is repentance. And repentance, Peter tells us, is a gift Christ delights to give.

So bring your fear of man to Him. Bring your half-hearted obedience to Him. Bring your reluctance, your weariness, your need.

Because the risen Christ does not merely stand over His people with authority – He supplies what His authority requires.

Conclusion

So this passage does not leave us with ourselves. It does not ask us to be braver, louder, or stronger than we are. It does not call us to muster obedience out of fear or manufacture repentance out of guilt.

It leaves us with Christ. A Christ whom men tried to silence – and could not. A Christ whom God raised, exalted, and seated at His right hand. A Christ who reigns with real authority, not borrowed authority.

And from that throne, He does not merely command obedience – He gives repentance. He does not merely expose guilt – He offers forgiveness. He does not merely stand over sinners – He welcomes those who bow.

So if this passage humbles you, that is exactly where it is meant to land. Because humility is not the end – it is the doorway.

The gospel is not that we obeyed God rather than men. The gospel is that Christ obeyed the Father perfectly in our place. The gospel is not that we stood firm. The gospel is that Christ stood in our judgment and bore it fully.

And now the risen, reigning Christ offers repentance and forgiveness freely to sinners who know they need it.

So let us bow where He reigns. Let us receive what we cannot produce. And let us rest – not in ourselves – but in the mercy of a Savior who cannot be overthrown.

Let’s pray.