This post by christinecoltman was originally published at GRACE PLACE
Acts 15: Seeing Jesus
It is such a joy to share Acts 15 with you tonight.
What I want us to notice is how often, throughout Acts, everything hinges on a moment of actually seeing Jesus. Not just learning about him — seeing him. The Spirit is relentless about this. Every time religion starts to crowd the room, the Spirit cuts through and points us straight back to Jesus. This is the key to Acts 15, and really to the whole book.
Where We Are
Up to this point, the church has been largely contained — mostly Jewish, Jerusalem-based, operating within familiar territory. Acts 9 to 14 is where everything begins to expand, sometimes explosively and sometimes painfully.
In chapter 9, we witness one of the most dramatic moments in the whole book. Saul — the most violent enemy of the church — is knocked flat on his face on the road to Damascus. He is blinded, broken, and completely undone – yet he sees the risen Jesus. When he recovers, he becomes Paul: the man who will carry the gospel further than anyone. Nobody saw that coming, which is rather the point.
Over in Joppa, Peter is staying with Simon, a tanner — and he is being pushed well outside his comfort zone. God gives him a vision: a sheet descends from heaven, full of unclean animals, and a voice tells him to eat them! Peter refuses — not once, not twice, but three times. He knows Leviticus – he’s not going to fall for this trick. Then the message lands: do not call unclean what God has called clean.
He is standing there, still processing the vision, still honouring everything his Jewish faith has taught him, when the Spirit speaks again: Some men are about to arrive. Don’t ask questions. Go with them. And then — knock, knock — Cornelius’ men are at the door.
Cornelius is a Gentile, a Roman soldier, living in Caesarea. He is about as far outside the camp as a person can be, in Jewish terms. But he and his household love the Lord. Acts 10:2 says he prayed continually to God. An angel visits him and says ‘go fetch Peter’. When Peter arrives, Cornelius has a full house — relatives, friends, everyone — and he is barely containing his excitement.
Peter begins by addressing the elephant in the room: “You know it’s against our laws for a Jewish man to enter a Gentile home. But God has shown me that I should no longer think of anyone as impure or unclean.” He starts to preach — and before he even finishes, the Holy Spirit falls on the entire household.
From that living room, the gospel takes root. Antioch — a majority-Gentile city — becomes the new mission centre. It is there that believers are first called Christians. The centre of gravity shifts, quietly but decisively.
The First Missionary Journey
In chapters 13 and 14, Paul and Barnabas are sent out together. They travel through Cyprus and into Galatia, preaching in synagogues, seeing remarkable response — and facing serious opposition. In one town they are celebrated; in the next, stoned. In Lystra, they heal a man and the crowd tries to worship them as gods. They push back hard — and then a mob of devout Jews who despise them arrives and turns the mood. Paul is dragged outside the city, brutally stoned, and left for dead. Miraculously, he gets up and walks back in.
That pattern holds throughout: the gospel goes out, people respond, opposition rises, and the church keeps growing — consistently crossing boundaries that religious insiders assumed it would not, and should not.
By the end of chapter 14, Paul and Barnabas are back in Antioch, sharing stories of everything God has done, and the church is celebrating. Then some Jewish believers arrive from Jerusalem — and that is where chapter 15 begins.
The Problem
Acts 15:1–4
The first missionary journey is done. Gentiles are turning to Jesus. The church in Antioch is overjoyed. And it is also around this time that Paul writes to the Galatians — reminding them: hold on to grace. Whatever you do, do not go back to the law.
And then these devout Jewish believers arrive with a serious concern: ‘Yes yes, it’s wonderful that people are believing in Jesus. Truly. But they absolutely must be circumcised first. And they need to keep the law of Moses. All six hundred commandments. Otherwise,’ they insist, ‘it’s not real salvation.’
But before we cast them as the villains of the story, it is worth understanding who they actually are.
These are not the people who followed Paul and Barnabas through Galatia stoning them. These are sincere, deeply committed followers of Jesus — former Pharisees, the most devout people of their day, who accepted Christ at enormous personal cost. For a Jew to follow Jesus meant your family held a funeral for you. You were declared dead. The price was extraordinarily high.
These are not bad people. They are people who sacrificed everything for their faith, who genuinely love God, and who sincerely believe they are protecting the integrity of the gospel. You can understand their thinking: We followed every law, observed every tradition, paid a high price. Surely anyone serious about following Jesus will want to do the same. We’re not gatekeeping for the fun of it. We believe we are being faithful.
But what they are actually doing is building a wall between broken people and Jesus.
We need to sit with that for a moment — because we do the same thing.
Maybe not over circumcision. But we have our own versions: the right music, the right language, the right politics, the acceptable sins and the unacceptable ones. We have a mold. We add things after the equals sign without even realising it: Salvation = Jesus+ becoming like us. And then we wonder why people hesitate to come through the door.
I helped organise a birthday party here at CBC recently for sweet Rose, and she invited several non-Christian friends who were genuinely anxious about coming into the building. No – they weren’t nervous about the building – bricks don’t judge. They were nervous about the people inside the building – they do.
But it was a beautiful event, everyone felt very welcomed and some made a point of telling Rose how surprised they were that they had such a wonderful time – in the church! And in one of the toasts given, a lifelong friend of Rose’s said: “Rose always listens. She never judges.” That is what it looks like to show people Jesus.
The Council
Well, Paul and Barnabas fought back against the Jewish believers vehemently. This wasn’t a soft, polite theological disagreement—they were absolutely going at it. So at the church in Antioch they decide enough is enough: “We’re going to Jerusalem to settle this once and for all. You guys—Jewish Christians—are saying this has come from the apostles, so let’s go hear it from the horse’s mouth.”
The crowd from Antioch arrives in Jerusalem and Paul and Barnabas begin sharing everything God has done among the Gentiles. The room erupts — celebration from some, immediate pushback from others.
Verse 5: “Then some of the believers who belonged to the party of the Pharisees stood up and said, ‘The Gentiles must be circumcised and required to keep the law of Moses.’”
Groundhog Day. Same argument. Different city.
The apostles and elders sit down for what must have been an extraordinary meeting. What is decided at the Jerusalem Council in AD 49 sets the course of church history for all of history. One theologian observed that if it had gone differently, most of us probably would not be Christians today. Or at the very least, instead of singing Amazing Grace, we would be singing Amazing Circumcision. And ‘What can wash away my sin-’ would be followed by, ‘nothing but the law of Moses.’ Considerably less catchy.
So, we can be grateful for what happens next.
Verse 7: Peter speaks first. He reminds them of Cornelius — how God poured out his Spirit on the Gentiles with no preconditions. No law, no circumcision, no ceremonies. Just faith. “God made no distinction between us and them.”
Then he drops the truth bomb. Verse 10: “Now then, why do you try to test God by putting on the necks of Gentiles a yoke that neither we nor our ancestors have been able to bear?”
In other words: you cannot keep the law yourselves. None of us could. And that was always the point. The law is like a mirror — perfect and holy, showing us where we fall short, but the law was never designed to save us. It was always pointing us toward our need for a Saviour. So why hold others to a standard you have never managed to meet?
That stings. Anyone guilty of holding a newer believer — or any believer — to a standard you cannot keep yourself? I know I am.
Then Peter turns the whole thing on its head. It is we — the religious, the devout, the ones with the law and the prophets — who must receive grace in exactly the same way the Gentiles do. Not the Gentiles learning from us, but us learning from them. The ones we consider unclean, who were worshipping idols last week, eating bacon and wearing all kinds of questionable clothes. Those who are living with mess and brokenness and shame — they understand grace better than we do. Because they know they have nothing to bring. They just know there is a man named Jesus and they want to know him more.
There’s a country-rap artist from Nashville, tattooed from head to toe, who spent years in and out of prison. His stage name is Jelly Roll. He was arrested appx forty times. Caught up deep in addiction and drug-related crime. Not an obvious candidate for grace. But somewhere in the wreckage, he saw Jesus, and it changed everything!
His transformation didn’t just happen on his clothes; it happened inside his heart. Today, the music he makes speaks loudly about addiction and shame and redemption and second chances — and it resonates because it is not a polished testimony. It is scar tissue turned into song.
In 2024, on the morning of a concert, he visited a Virginia prison and sat with inmates in a recovery programme. He listened, wept, and sang with them. Then he rang the sheriff to ask whether four of those inmates might attend his concert that evening – in street clothes, not handcuffs – and sing with him on stage.
Jelly proclaims Jesus in everything he does — not in the way I might. But just five minutes ago I told you I’ve looked down on new believers. His theology may not be perfect, but I believe he perfectly knows that Jesus saved his soul and when he gets to heaven, we’ll both be saying the same things as the thief on the cross (who had zero chance of cleaning himself up!) — “I came because Jesus, that man over there, told me to meet him here.”
Now, back at the council, this would have been an extraordinarily difficult message for the devout Jewish Christians to hear. Their entire lives had been shaped by the law. Their great-grandparents had literally died for the right to circumcise their children. Antiochus Epiphanes had ordered that mothers who circumcised their sons would have their babies killed and then be made to parade through the city with their infant’s body around their neck, before being put to death themselves as a warning to others. These people gave their lives for these traditions, and now they were being told: that’s not what saves. Grace is bigger than this.
Verses 12–13: “The whole assembly fell silent as Barnabas and Paul described the signs and wonders God had done among the Gentiles. When they finished, James spoke.”
James was the brother of Jesus and the most respected figure in the early church. In verses 14-17, he roots his entire argument in Scripture — showing that from the very beginning, this was always God’s plan. Not something new. It’s the beating heart of God, always.
Then he delivers the verdict.
Verse 19: “My judgment is that we should not make it difficult for the Gentiles who are turning to God.”
That’s it.
Do not make it difficult.
Do not add requirements that Jesus didn’t.
Do not block the way with your customs, your traditions, your culture, your preferences. Point people to Jesus — not your version of Christianity. Jesus.
Salvation = Jesus. Full stop.
So here is the question James is asking us: where are we making it difficult? Where have we made secondary issues the main thing and lost sight of Jesus? Where do we say, without meaning to, that salvation = Jesus+ something else? Because Jesus made the way as open as possible. And James is saying: don’t you dare block it. Do not make people stumble over things Jesus never required of them. Do not miss how big grace really is.
The Christian Pharisees could not fully receive grace because deep down they felt they had earned something. Grace had become the cherry on top of their own effort. But grace, by definition, cannot be earned. The moment you feel you deserved it, you have missed it entirely.
The Gentiles understood quickly — because they knew they had nothing to bring.
The invitation is exactly the same today. Whether you’ve been a believer for forty years or are not yet sure you believe any of this — the way to him is not to get cleaned up, try harder, or become like the rest of us. That would be a mistake. It is grace – through faith – in Christ alone.
The Letter and the Disagreement
Take a moment to appreciate what’s just happened: The apostles and elders of the entire church, gathered in Jerusalem. Peter gave a speech. Paul gave a speech. Barnabas gave a speech. And then James gives the final decision – a verdict that would shape Christianity for the next two thousand years: salvation by grace through faith in Christ alone.
But what about verse 20 – where Jame’s doesn’t exactly say nothing is required. In fact, ge gives a list of four things that are!
Verse 20: “Instead, we should write to them, telling them to abstain from food polluted by idols, from sexual immorality, from the meat of strangled animals, and from blood.”
Three of these things are essentially about idol worship: food polluted by idols, the meat of a strangled animal, and blood. In the Greco-Roman world almost all meat came through the temple system where animals were sacrificed to false gods and demons. Eating together was worship; you couldn’t separate the meal from the deity it was sacrificed to.
Similarly, sexual immorality is included for the same reasons: it was so normal in the culture and also tied directly to worship. Naming it explicitly was helpful for new believers who were learning what worship really looks like.
But James wasn’t adding to salvation—Jesus already dealt with that. He was building a practical bridge. He was saying, “Hey guys, this is the minimum common ground that will let Jews and Gentiles be a community together without causing offense or confusion to others who might be looking in and are also on their way to faith.”
The bar for belonging to Jesus is grace.
But belonging in community will always ask something of us—not to earn our place, but because our love for others will profoundly shape how we live.
With the details agreed, this letter is written from the council and sent out, and the church rejoiced. It was a historical triumph. Everyone lives happily ever after in unity—for five minutes.
Then suddenly Paul and Barnabas—the greatest duo in church history—had a row so severe that they would never work together again…
Verses 36–40: “Sometime later Paul said to Barnabas, ‘Let’s go back and visit the believers in the towns where we preached the word of the Lord and see how they’re doing.’ Barnabas wanted to take John, also called Mark, with them, but Paul did not think it was wise to take him, because he had deserted them in Pamphylia and had not continued with them in the work. They had such a sharp disagreement that they parted company. Barnabas took Mark and sailed for Cyprus, but Paul chose Silas and left, commended by the believers to the grace of the Lord.”
You could not make this up. And Luke could have left this out. But he chose not to — and I kind of love him for that.
Paul and Barnabas fall out over Mark. Why? Short answer: we don’t know. In Acts 13:13 all we know is that Mark left them and returned to Jerusalem. That’s it. No explanation. Maybe he was homesick, maybe ill, maybe scared, maybe he had a theological disagreement, or was uncomfortable with the direction they were headed. Who knows. Scripture is silent, which is worth noting because Paul treats it like a serious failure and Barnabas treats it like something recoverable.
The text does not decide between them. We are not told who was right — because that is not the point.
What we do know is what happened on both sides. Before, Mark was clearly trusted—he’s Barnabas’ cousin; he’s connected to the Jerusalem Council and was invited on that first journey. Afterward, Barnabas believes in Mark enough to break his gospel partnership with Paul.
This isn’t just a little spat—these two absolutely go at it. But you know what’s not in the text? It doesn’t say that they prayed or sought God. So here’s these two really godly men, digging their heels in, and splitting.
Barnabas takes Mark, and it’s hard not to side with him because Barnabas has a soft heart. He understands that people make mistakes and he’s compassionate. And we know Mark goes on to write the Gospel of Mark, so Barnabas was right to believe in him.
But God uses Paul too! This hot-headed, stubborn, mass murderer who’s just publicly humiliated a young believer—and God still uses him. It reminds me of Martin Luther, who described himself as, ‘rough, boisterous, stormy, and altogether warlike’.
That gives me hope that God can use you and me too. Now — this doesn’t give permission or an excuse to stay in sin. Hear me clearly: we’re not talking about resisting the Spirit’s sanctifying work. But it blows up the idea that God leaves us on a shelf until we’ve cleaned ourselves up enough to be useful.
God will meet us right there in our mess, not after it.
Commands and convictions are more like cat’s eyes or rumble strips on a highway at night – they show us where the road ends and the ditch begins. When something in my life is out of sync, I feel my heart rumbling as I veer off course and it’s a signal that I have drifted from what I really want.
I don’t avoid sin because I am afraid of punishment. I avoid it because I want the real thing. I want the closest, most unhindered relationship I can have with Jesus on this side of heaven. And I know what gets in the way of that—anything that gets in the way of my view of Jesus.
It’s the same reason I don’t cheat on Jonathan. I’m not faithful because of a prenup or house rules; I’m faithful because I love him so deeply that words fail me. It would absolutely kill me to hurt him by giving even a sliver of my heart away.
Jesus came to bring abundant life, and I want it all!
Now, if you’re feeling too broken or uncertain or ashamed, you’re wrong. Paul was a mass murderer, but God pursued him with everything he had, and Jesus’ arms are open wide for you right now—just the same, not when you’ve sorted things out. If that were the standard, the thief on the cross would not have had a prayer. Sometimes we do get a chance to make things right: to confess, repent, ask forgiveness, be reconciled.
Paul and Mark did about 12 years later. In 2 Timothy 4—one of Paul’s final letters—he says, ‘Hey, you know, bring Mark. I’ve been stupid. He is a great guy, and I need him here with me.’ Full circle. Whatever happened in Pamphylia was not the end of their story.
Now, Acts 15 ends here, but at the start of chapter 16 there’s a slightly uncomfortable but notable incident.
One More Thing: Timothy
Acts 16:1-5: “Paul came to Derbe and then to Lystra, where a disciple named Timothy lived, whose mother was Jewish and a believer, but whose father was a Greek. The believers at Lystra and Iconium spoke well of him. Paul wanted to take him along on the journey, so he circumcised him because of the Jews who lived in that area, for they all knew that his father was a Greek. As they travelled from town to town, they delivered the decision reached by the apostles and the elders in Jerusalem for the people to obey. The churches were strengthened and their faith grew daily in numbers.”
Timothy is half-Jewish, half-Greek and uncircumcised. Every Jewish synagogue Paul visited would have shut the door in their faces. So, what does Paul do?
He circumcises him.
The man who literally has a letter from the Jerusalem Council saying circumcision is not required, in one hand – and in the other he’s got a pair of snips! And he says, ‘hey Timmy – so… how do you feel about surgery?’
The distinction matters: the council’s ruling is about salvation. Timothy’s circumcision is about access. It is about removing every unnecessary barrier between people and Jesus.
Paul will not compromise on truth — but he will do whatever it takes to meet people where they are, even if it costs something, even if it is a bit painful or awkward.
Today that might look like going to a Jelly Roll concert. Or inviting neighbours with colourful language. Or joining a photography club to meet people. Or hosting a group of school mums and their kids every Friday afternoon.
The question is simple: what are we unwilling to do? What sacrifices are we avoiding that would actually help people see Jesus?
Whatever just popped into your mind — know that Timothy’s end of the deal hurt a lot more!.
Benediction
I’ve written a benediction that I want to read over all of you as a prayer to close.
May you go from this place with a heart like Paul and Timothy—steadfast, courageous, and full of grace.
May the compassion of Barnabas shape your life, helping you see the good in others and draw it out.
May the wisdom of the council guide you, holding truth with discernment.
May you, like Peter, be attentive and captivated by the Spirit, ready to follow him wherever he leads.
And above all, may your eyes remain fixed on Jesus—the author and finisher of your faith, the centre, the hope, and the joy of all you do.
Amen