Acts – Devoted & Determined

ACTS - Devoted & Determined

The Book of Acts shows us how the Holy Spirit launches the church into a mission that cannot be stopped. The gospel spreads from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth — not through comfort, but through devotion, courage, and obedience. The early church began strong (Acts 2:42), but when they settled into comfort, God used persecution to scatter them and push the mission forward (Acts 8:1). Through Paul’s example, we learn what it means to stay devoted and determined — finishing the work Jesus started (Acts 20:24). Acts ends without a conclusion because we are meant to continue the story today.

Reader's Version

Acts: Devoted & Determined 

Sermon by Gene Simco 

Reader’s Version 

Happy New Year. 

I figured we could start this year by doing something a little different—something we don’t usually do in church. Actually, something we almost never do in church. This year, I thought we’d start by doing karate in church. 

Now, that probably sounds strange for a couple of reasons. First, who does karate in church? Are we even allowed to do that? Second, my background isn’t actually karate. I come from the MMA world, and most of my training is in Brazilian jiu-jitsu. But when I was a kid, I did Okinawan karate, and it was awesome—mainly because this was right when The Karate Kid movies came out. Karate was everywhere. It was the coolest thing in the world. 

So I want to start by attempting the famous Crane Kick. And just so we’re clear, the Crane Kick is fictional. It doesn’t actually exist in traditional Okinawan karate. It was invented for the movie. Interestingly enough, versions of it have shown up in MMA over the years, but the original move itself was created for Hollywood. 

Now, if you’re reading the reader’s version of this at home, or somewhere public, let me say this clearly: please do not do this in public. If you’re in a coffee shop right now, just keep reading. But if you’re alone, or if you’re here in the room and can safely do this, you’ll need something to balance on. If you’re in church, you can hold onto each other’s shoulders like the Rockettes. Just make sure you’ve got something solid to grab so no one falls. 

Here’s how it works. You’re going to start by transferring your weight onto your right leg. Do it slowly. Let the weight settle there. Then, as you feel balanced, begin to lift your left foot off the ground. As you do that, your hands come up into the air. Some people find it helps to bend the standing knee slightly. Others prefer to lock it out. Do whatever helps you stay upright. 

Now, we’re going to try to hold this position—not for long—just for about ten seconds. As you get better at this, you can turn it into a New Year’s ball-drop challenge. Eventually, you could hold it for the entire final minute of the countdown. Right now, though, ten seconds is plenty. 

It’s also important for you to know that I once met Ralph Macchio in an airport. That part has absolutely nothing to do with this illustration, but it was awesome. 

As the countdown finishes and everyone says, “Happy New Year,” you can gently put your foot back down. Don’t do the kick. We don’t want anyone getting hurt. The goal here is balance, not impact. You always practice the fundamentals before you try anything dramatic. 

So, congratulations. If you made it through the countdown without falling over, you’ve officially started the new year on … the right foot. 

When it comes to New Year’s resolutions, we all know how this works. The gyms are full. People are motivated—until they’re not. Starting is exciting. Finishing is difficult. 

We love the idea of transformation, but we don’t always love the cost of transformation. We love to start things. We even love to start following Jesus. But the Book of Acts isn’t about starting. Acts is about finishing the mission Jesus gave us—and that’s exactly where we find ourselves today. 

We just came out of the Gospels, and now we step into the Book of Acts. The four Gospels focus on the life and ministry of Jesus Christ—His teaching, His miracles, His death, and His resurrection. Acts picks up right where they leave off. It begins with Jesus appearing to His disciples after the resurrection, then His ascension into heaven, the birth of the Church He promised, and the launch of the mission to plant churches and take the gospel forward. 

Jesus didn’t say, “You will be my witnesses if you feel like it.” He said: 

“But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you. And you will be my witnesses, telling people about me everywhere…” 

Acts is the story of a church that refuses to quit—because Jesus refuses to quit. 

So this year, we’re not making resolutions. We’re making a resolve: to finish what Jesus started. That’s what it means to be devoted and determined. 

Acts is written by Luke, the same author who wrote the Gospel of Luke. Once again, he’s addressing Theophilus, who is most likely a real person, and Luke is giving him a careful, detailed account of what happened next. Jesus appears in His resurrected body for forty days, teaching and preparing His disciples. He tells them to wait for the Holy Spirit. Naturally, they ask the question everyone wants answered: “Is now the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” 

Jesus tells them that it’s not for them to know. The Father alone knows the timing. It’s the same kind of answer He gave in Matthew 24—some things are simply not for us to determine. 

Then Jesus ascends into heaven. 

After that, we find the disciples gathered together in the upper room. There are about 120 of them. All the apostles are present—except Judas, who has taken his own life. This moment also marks the last appearance of Mary in the New Testament. 

The group decides they need to replace Judas. Matthias is chosen by casting lots. Some have argued that this was a hasty decision. Others debate whether Matthias was truly the replacement apostle, or whether Paul ultimately filled that role. That discussion has gone on for centuries. It’s not the main point, but it’s an interesting detail as we move through the story. 

What is clear is this: 
from the very beginning, the church starts deeply devoted. 

Shape 

In Acts chapter 2, the Holy Spirit is poured out at Pentecost. Peter preaches boldly, and three thousand people are saved in a single day. What immediately follows is not a program, a strategy, or a growth plan, but the formation of a devoted community. Luke tells us, “All the believers devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, and to fellowship, and to sharing in meals, and to prayer” (Acts 2:42). He goes on to describe the atmosphere of the early church by saying, “A deep sense of awe came over them all, and the apostles performed many miraculous signs and wonders” (Acts 2:43). The word Luke uses carries the idea of fear—reverent fear. God’s presence was unmistakable, and no one treated it casually. 

The devotion of the church was not theoretical. Luke continues, “And all the believers met together in one place and shared everything they had. They sold their property and possessions and shared the money with those in need” (Acts 2:44–45). This gives us a full picture of what devotion looked like in practice. Scripture was their authority through the apostles’ teaching. Fellowship was real; they genuinely knew one another. Generosity was sacrificial; they met needs rather than indulging wants. Prayer was central; they depended on God rather than themselves. And communion remained at the heart of their life together, keeping Jesus at the center of everything. 

These are the pillars of the church. This is what we center C3 Church on. These are the basics. Over time, many churches move past these foundations and replace them with things that have very little to do with the biblical picture of church. You can end up with gatherings that resemble concerts or motivational talks, but miss the substance entirely. In Acts, Scripture is the foundation. Fellowship is essential. Shared life matters. They didn’t rush out once the message was over. They broke bread together. They shared meals. They prayed together. They knew one another, and they knew the Lord. They didn’t attend a service; they became a family. 

In Acts chapter 3, Peter and John heal a lame man at the temple. The miracle creates an opportunity for the gospel to be proclaimed publicly, and that proclamation immediately brings opposition. By Acts chapter 4, Peter and John are arrested and brought before the Sanhedrin, the Jewish ruling council. Rather than retreating, they give bold testimony about Jesus. When they are released, the believers gather and pray—not for safety, but for boldness—and once again Luke highlights the unity and generosity of the church (Acts 4:29–33). 

Acts chapter 5 introduces a sobering moment with Ananias and Sapphira. They are judged for lying to the Holy Spirit. The issue is not that they withheld part of the money from the sale of their property—it was theirs to do with as they pleased—but that they deliberately lied to the apostles in an attempt to appear more generous than they were. At the same time, the apostles continue performing signs and wonders, persecution intensifies, and the apostles rejoice that they are counted worthy to suffer for the name of Jesus (Acts 5:41). 

In Acts chapter 6, the church faces a practical problem that threatens to distract the apostles from their primary calling. Deacons are appointed to meet the tangible needs of the community so that the apostles can remain devoted to prayer and the ministry of the word. Luke explicitly tells us this priority mattered. Stephen emerges at this point as a powerful witness, described as a man full of faith, wisdom, and the Holy Spirit (Acts 6:8). 

And yet, something subtle begins to happen. The church stops moving. 

Jerusalem starts to function like a permanent center—a kind of early mega-church campus. But the mission Jesus gave was never meant to remain local. They were called to go to Judea, Samaria, and to the ends of the earth. Instead, comfort sets in. Familiarity feels safe. Stability feels responsible. Closeness feels efficient. Complacent comfort is convenient, and complacent comfort is contagious. 

So God destabilizes their comfort. 

In Acts chapter 7, Stephen delivers a sweeping account of Israel’s history, confronts hardened hearts, sees Jesus standing at the right hand of God, and becomes the first Christian martyr (Acts 7:55–60). Then, in Acts chapter 8, persecution breaks out against the church in Jerusalem, and the believers are scattered. Luke records, “A great wave of persecution began that day, sweeping over the church in Jerusalem; and all the believers except the apostles were scattered throughout the regions of Judea and Samaria” (Acts 8:1). As they scatter, the gospel spreads. Philip proclaims Christ in Samaria and later shares the gospel with the Ethiopian eunuch, showing that the mission is now moving outward just as Jesus commanded. 

Persecution accomplishes what comfort could not. It sends them into their calling. 

Jesus had already told them, “You will be my witnesses… in Jerusalem, throughout Judea, in Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). Now they are finally doing exactly that—not because it was convenient, but because God intervened. The mission was never to stack believers in one place; it was to plant churches and carry the gospel forward. Sometimes God interrupts our comfort in order to restore our mission. 

This becomes the key moment of truth in Acts. They started devoted. They became comfortable. So God scattered them to complete the mission. 

In Acts chapters 8 through 12, the mission moves from Jerusalem into Judea and Samaria, and in the process, it breaks through long-standing comfort zones. The first figure Luke highlights is Philip. Philip goes into Samaria and begins proclaiming Christ, something that would have been deeply uncomfortable for Jewish believers. Luke records, “Philip, for example, went to the city of Samaria and told the people there about the Messiah” (Acts 8:5). Samaritans were historically despised by Jews, viewed as religiously compromised and ethnically mixed. Yet Philip’s obedience shows that the gospel moves precisely toward those whom people are tempted to avoid. 

Then the Spirit directs Philip away from the crowd to a single individual on a desert road. This man is an Ethiopian eunuch, a Gentile, and an outsider in multiple ways. He would not normally have been welcomed into Jewish religious life. It is worth noting that the first clearly identified Gentile convert in Acts is a Black man. Sometimes the most significant gospel moments are not found in crowds, but in one faithful conversation with someone who does not look like us, live like us, or agree with us. 

The narrative then shifts to Saul, who had been present at—and approving of—Stephen’s martyrdom. In Acts 9, Saul is introduced as a man consumed with opposition to the church. Luke writes, “Meanwhile, Saul was uttering threats with every breath and was eager to kill the Lord’s followers” (Acts 9:1). He secures letters from the high priest to arrest believers in Damascus, but as he approaches the city, a light from heaven suddenly surrounds him. Saul falls to the ground and hears a voice saying, “Saul! Saul! Why are you persecuting me?” When Saul asks who is speaking, the answer comes, “I am Jesus, the one you are persecuting” (Acts 9:4–5). 

Saul is blinded for three days, until the Lord sends a disciple named Ananias—distinct from Ananias of Acts 5—to pray for him. Something like scales falls from Saul’s eyes, he regains his sight, and he is baptized (Acts 9:17–18). Jesus does not merely save Saul; He recruits him. The persecutor becomes a preacher. The destroyer becomes a church planter. The opponent becomes an apostle. 

Next, Luke returns to Peter’s story, where God confronts deeply rooted religious comfort. Peter receives a vision of a sheet lowered from heaven containing animals that had previously been considered unclean. When Peter resists, God says to him, “Do not call something unclean if God has made it clean” (Acts 10:15). While the vision involves food, its true meaning is far greater. God is removing the barrier between Jews and Gentiles. The gospel was never meant to be exclusive. Peter is then sent to Cornelius, a Roman centurion, and when the Holy Spirit is poured out, it becomes undeniable that Gentiles are fully included in God’s saving work (Acts 10:44–48). 

Acts chapter 12 brings political opposition into focus. King Herod begins persecuting the church. James is executed by the sword, and Peter is imprisoned. There is no violent resistance, no organized retaliation—only prayer. Luke concludes the chapter with a striking summary: “Meanwhile, the word of God continued to spread, and there were many new believers” (Acts 12:24). Government cannot stop the gospel. Satan cannot stop the gospel. Religious legalism cannot stop the gospel. The greatest threat remains complacent comfort. 

Acts chapters 13 through 28 show what happens when devotion meets determination. This is where Paul finishes what Jesus started. He goes where others would not go. He risks what others would not risk. In Acts 13, Luke gives us a window into how missionaries are sent. Out of a large and thriving church in Antioch, the Spirit sets apart only two men—Paul and Barnabas—after prayer and fasting (Acts 13:2–3). This stands in sharp contrast to modern approaches to mission that rely on logistics and strategy while neglecting spiritual discernment. 

As Paul and Barnabas move forward, opposition quickly follows. In Iconium, they are threatened with stoning. In Lystra, Paul is actually stoned and left for dead. Yet Luke records that after preaching the gospel in Derbe and making many disciples, “Paul and Barnabas returned to Lystra, Iconium, and Antioch of Pisidia, where they strengthened the believers. They encouraged them to continue in the faith, reminding them that we must suffer many hardships to enter the Kingdom of God” (Acts 14:21–22). This warning is one that many churches avoid, yet Jesus Himself made it clear that following Him would require self-denial and endurance. 

Acts chapter 15 records the first major council of the church. Some believers from a Pharisaic background insist that Gentile converts must be circumcised and required to keep the Law of Moses in order to be saved. This becomes the first major theological crisis of the church. Peter, James, Paul, and other leaders gather to address the issue. Paul later emphasizes the importance of this moment in his letter to the Galatians. The council ultimately affirms that salvation is by grace alone, not by adherence to the Mosaic Law (Acts 15:11). Four guidelines are given to promote unity, but it is made clear that these are not the gospel itself. 

At the end of Acts 15, a sharp disagreement arises between Paul and Barnabas over John Mark, who had previously left the mission field. This disagreement leads to a separation. Barnabas takes Mark, who is his cousin and the eventual author of the Gospel of Mark. Paul continues with Silas. Later, Paul will acknowledge that Mark has been restored and is useful in ministry (2 Timothy 4:11). Silas—also known as Silvanus—will appear as a co-author in Paul’s letters and as the one who pens Peter’s first letter (1 Peter 5:12). 

In Acts 16, Timothy is introduced as a key companion of Paul. Although Gentile believers are not required to be circumcised, Timothy is circumcised out of consideration for the Jews in that region, demonstrating missional sensitivity rather than legal obligation. That same chapter introduces Lydia of Philippi, a merchant of purple cloth. She and her household believe, making her likely the first recorded European convert—and notably, she is a woman. 

Acts 17 takes us to Thessalonica and then to Athens, where Paul delivers his speech at Mars Hill. Disturbed by the city’s idolatry, Paul does not begin with condemnation. Instead, he points to an altar dedicated to an unknown god and uses it as an entry point for proclaiming the gospel (Acts 17:22–23). In Acts 18, Paul arrives in Corinth, where he meets Priscilla and Aquila and later writes letters addressing the issues facing that church. Acts 19 places Paul in Ephesus, where the gospel disrupts the local economy built around idol-making, leading to a riot. 

Throughout these chapters, Paul writes letters back to the churches he has planted. Galatians emerges from the first journey. Thessalonians follows the work in Macedonia. Corinthians and Romans arise from later ministry contexts. During imprisonment, Paul will write Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, and Philemon. The letters are not separate from Acts; they are Acts explained from inside the mission. 

In Acts 20, Paul delivers a farewell speech to the Ephesian elders. He knows suffering lies ahead, yet he says, “But my life is worth nothing to me unless I use it for finishing the work assigned me by the Lord Jesus—the work of telling others the Good News about the wonderful grace of God” (Acts 20:24). This statement becomes Paul’s life summary. He also warns against false teachers and echoes the watchman imagery of Ezekiel, making it clear that he has faithfully delivered God’s message (Acts 20:26–31). 

Paul stands as the clearest example in Acts of what it means to be devoted and determined. He does not drift, retreat, or resign. He finishes the work. 

As we close the Book of Acts, the focus narrows almost entirely onto Paul. In Acts chapter 21, Paul knowingly walks into danger in Jerusalem. He is warned repeatedly, even prophetically, about what awaits him. The prophet Agabus binds his own hands and feet and declares what will happen to Paul. Yet, as with all prophecy, there is partial understanding. As Paul himself would later write, “We know in part and we prophesy in part” (1 Corinthians 13:9). The warning is real, but Paul’s obedience is resolute. He moves forward anyway. 

In Acts chapter 22, Paul gives his testimony while under arrest, using his own story as a vehicle to proclaim Jesus. In Acts chapter 23, he stands firm before the council, and God reassures him directly that he will testify in Rome. In Acts chapter 24, Paul remains faithful while unjustly imprisoned. He reasons about faith and righteousness before Felix, a corrupt governor who keeps Paul confined for two years while hoping for a bribe (Acts 24:26). Even in this injustice, Paul does not waste the opportunity. His imprisonment becomes a platform for the gospel, a theme echoed later in letters like Philippians, where he explains how the message of Christ has reached guards and officials through his chains (Philippians 1:12–13). 

In Acts chapter 25, Paul appeals to Caesar, advancing the gospel through legal means rather than force or rebellion. In Acts chapter 26, he boldly proclaims Christ before King Agrippa, declaring that he has been obedient to the heavenly vision. In Acts chapter 27, Paul endures shipwreck, trusting God and encouraging everyone around him in the middle of crisis. Finally, in Acts chapter 28, Paul reaches Rome. There, he preaches without restraint, and the gospel continues to advance—even in chains. 

Acts is not the story of a perfect church. It is the story of a preserving church. 

We do not want to be a church that starts devoted, becomes comfortable, and stops moving. We want to be a church that starts devoted, stays determined, and finishes the work God started. The finish line is not when we feel done. The finish line is when Jesus says, “Well done.” 

As we transition toward application, it is important to note that Acts is filled with Christophanies and prophetic fulfillments. There are many throughout the book. Most notably, at the beginning of Acts, Peter explains Pentecost by pointing back to Joel’s prophecy about the Spirit being poured out on both men and women (Acts 2:16–18). That connection matters for understanding what God is doing throughout the book. 

Among the most significant Alpha and Omega connections in Acts is the promise that God’s work would reach the nations. Isaiah declared, “I will make you a light to the Gentiles, and you will bring my salvation to the ends of the earth” (Isaiah 49:6). Paul later quotes this directly, saying, “For the Lord gave us this command when he said, ‘I have made you a light to the Gentiles, to bring salvation to the farthest corners of the earth’” (Acts 13:47). 

God never intended salvation to remain local. From the beginning, the mission was global and unfinished until the nations were reached. Paul does not treat Isaiah as abstract prophetic theology. He treats it as a marching order. What God promised in Isaiah, He executes through the church. This directly feeds the application: the mission is not finished because the promise is not finished. God does not abandon His work halfway, and neither should we. 

Another key pattern appears in the servant who completes the mission through obedience rather than comfort. Isaiah writes, “Because the Sovereign LORD helps me, I will not be disgraced. Therefore, I have set my face like a stone, determined to do his will” (Isaiah 50:7). Paul echoes this resolve when he declares, “But my life is worth nothing to me unless I use it for finishing the work assigned me by the Lord Jesus—the work of telling others the Good News about the wonderful grace of God” (Acts 20:24). 

Paul mirrors the servant’s resolve. Comfort never becomes the deciding factor. The servant does not retreat when the cost rises. He sets his face and continues. This is the heart of being devoted and determined. Jerusalem could not stop Paul. Prison could not stop Paul. Shipwreck could not stop Paul. The mission is finished by those who refuse to quit. 

Finally, Acts reminds us that God’s presence goes with His people. God does not send us out alone. He once told Moses, “I will personally go with you, and I will give you rest—everything will be fine for you” (Exodus 33:14). That same promise is echoed at the end of Acts, where Luke records, “For the next two years, Paul lived in Rome at his own expense. He welcomed all who visited him, boldly proclaiming the Kingdom of God and teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ. And no one tried to stop him” (Acts 28:30–31). 

Paul finishes not because life is easy, but because God is with him. 

Acts ends this way on purpose. There is no altar call. There is no martyrdom scene. There is no tidy resolution. The message is clear. God is still present. The mission is still open. The work is still ours. 

The Alpha promises a mission. 
The Omega proves it unstoppable. 

God finishes what He starts. 
Paul refuses to quit. 
The church must decide whether we will finish the work God started—or stop when it becomes uncomfortable. 

Now we need to look honestly at why we quit—and how we finish. This is the movement from devotion into complacent comfort, and it is one of the most dangerous drifts in the Christian life. 

When people hear the word comfort, they tend to picture couches, coffee, and climate-controlled Christianity. They imagine God as someone who wants them cozy, unbothered, and undisturbed. But that is not what comfort means biblically. 

Even in English, the word carries two very different meanings. The first is a state of physical ease and freedom from pain or constraint. That is the version most people instinctively reach for. But the second definition is the easing or alleviation of a person’s grief or distress. That second meaning brings us much closer to the biblical idea. 

In the New Testament, the word most often translated as comfort is the Greek word παράκλησις (paraklēsis). It means encouragement, strengthening, exhortation, and reassurance given in hardship. It does not mean the removal of suffering. Biblically, comfort is about strength to endure, courage to continue, and power to obey. In fact, this word is closely connected to the Holy Spirit Himself—the One who empowers God’s people to do the work they could never do on their own. 

This matters because people frequently misuse Scripture to justify staying comfortable. They will say, “Well, the Bible talks a lot about comfort.” It does—but now we understand what kind of comfort it means. Second Corinthians is often quoted in this discussion, so it’s important to read it carefully. 

Paul writes, “All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others” (2 Corinthians 1:3–4). The word translated troubles there is closely tied to the idea of tribulation. Paul continues, “When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. For the more we suffer for Christ, the more God will shower us with his comfort through Christ” (2 Corinthians 1:4–5). He goes on to explain that even when they are weighed down, it is for the comfort and salvation of others, so that they can patiently endure the same sufferings (2 Corinthians 1:6–7). 

That balance is critical. Suffering and comfort are held together. Endurance and encouragement go hand in hand. This is not couch comfort. This is emotional, spiritual, and mental strength in the middle of hardship. 

Despite this, people often repeat the phrase, “God won’t give you more than you can handle.” But Paul directly contradicts that idea. He writes, “We think you ought to know, dear brothers and sisters, about the trouble we went through in the province of Asia. We were crushed and overwhelmed beyond our ability to endure, and we thought we would never live through it. In fact, we expected to die” (2 Corinthians 1:8–9). Paul admits that what they faced was more than they could handle. But he explains why: “But as a result, we stopped relying on ourselves and learned to rely only on God, who raises the dead” (2 Corinthians 1:9). 

Later, Paul adds, “When we arrived in Macedonia, there was no rest for us. We faced conflict from every direction, with battles on the outside and fear on the inside” (2 Corinthians 7:5). That statement alone dismantles the idea that faithful Christians never experience fear or pressure. Paul and Timothy were not comfortable in the way we usually define comfort. They were dealing with circumstances only God could carry them through. 

Jerusalem became comfortable—and we do too. 

The remedy is to return to devotion with determination. Luke reminds us, “All the believers devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, and to fellowship, and to sharing in meals, and to prayer” (Acts 2:42). Devotion is a decision. Complacent comfort is a drift. And like anything in life, what sustains devotion is determination and consistency. 

It’s not always comfortable, but it is necessary. It’s like going to the gym. Anyone who is in shape will tell you that tracking progress and increasing intensity matters, but the first key is simply showing up consistently. Without that, nothing else works. 

Within this drift toward comfort, there are usually two groups. The first is what you might call couch comfort. These are people who are truly comfortable on their couches. They do not show up to church at all, which means they are not engaging in teaching, fellowship, shared life, or prayer. This is one of the reasons I ultimately did away with streaming services. Streaming gave people the illusion of church without requiring participation in the things that actually form the church. At best, it was half-church. Virtual church is, in many ways, an oxymoron. 

The second group is church comfort. These are people who still show up, but they are simply going through the motions. They may be somewhat devoted, but they are not determined to grow, change, or press forward. 

From there, people begin to look for excuses to disengage. Conflict is one of the most common. When people hurt us, we pull back. For those settled into church comfort, conflict becomes a reason to skip church rather than work through issues. That conflict may come from inside the church or outside of it. 

Sometimes it’s family. We don’t want the discomfort of explaining why church is a priority. Sometimes it’s friends—friends who keep us out late, partying, leaving us too tired or hungover to gather with the church. Other times it’s friends who plan events or barbecues at the exact time the church meets, and we don’t want to decline the invitation. It can even be employers. We haven’t drawn a clear line, and we’re uncomfortable saying that following Jesus means gathering with His people. 

The remedy is priority. Putting God first is not just a private decision; it is part of our witness. Our devotion and determination speak loudly about how seriously we take our faith. It’s difficult to tell others that Jesus has changed our lives if we are not even committed to showing up for Him. 

For others, conflict becomes an excuse to leave entirely. Some people are already halfway out the door, and they are simply waiting for something to go wrong so they can justify leaving. But Scripture gives us a very different picture. Luke tells us, “The apostles left the high council rejoicing that God had counted them worthy to suffer disgrace for the name of Jesus” (Acts 5:41). 

The apostles were not avoiding conflict. They were not looking for reasons to disengage. They embraced the cost. Wounds were not allowed to win. Discomfort was not allowed to decide. That is what devotion with determination looks like. 

When sacrifice shows up, we often bow out. And that brings us right back to the couch—back to comfort. For many people, this is where the cost becomes literal. Money becomes the reason to disengage and lose consistency. They say things like, “If I come to church, I’m going to lose money,” or, “If I commit fully, it’s going to cost me too much.” 

That kind of reasoning is not wisdom; it’s fear dressed up as practicality. It reveals a lack of faith that often hides beneath church comfort. And it usually shows up in the area of generosity—or the absence of it. 

This is the next step beyond the foundational practices we saw in Acts 2. Remember, the early believers gave everything. Generosity was not an optional add-on; it was the next Spirit-led step of obedience. It was the exercise of faith that asked not only what to give, but how to give, in response to what the Holy Spirit was doing. That’s why Malachi matters here. God consistently ties generosity to trust, not to surplus. 

When we think about cost, we need to remember that what Paul and Timothy endured went far beyond money. Paul said plainly, “But my life is worth nothing to me unless I use it for finishing the work assigned me by the Lord Jesus—the work of telling others the Good News about the wonderful grace of God” (Acts 20:24). And this wasn’t just Paul’s mindset. Timothy shared it as well. 

Paul reminds Timothy, “Always remember that Jesus Christ, a descendant of King David, was raised from the dead. This is the Good News I preach. And because I preach this Good News, I am suffering and have been chained like a criminal. But the word of God cannot be chained. So I am willing to endure anything if it will bring salvation and eternal glory in Christ Jesus to those God has chosen” (2 Timothy 2:8–10). Later, Paul adds, “You know all about my suffering—how much I endured. You know how I was persecuted in Antioch, Iconium, and Lystra—but the Lord rescued me from all of it. Yes, and everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will suffer persecution” (2 Timothy 3:11–12). 

Notice the word everyone. There are no exceptions. Following Jesus does not remove cost; it gives meaning to it. Paul reinforces this perspective when he writes, “Physical training is good, but training for godliness is much better, promising benefits in this life and in the life to come” (1 Timothy 4:8). 

At the end of his life, Paul could say with peace, not pride, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have remained faithful. And now the prize awaits me—the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me on the day of his return. And the prize is not just for me but for all who eagerly look forward to his appearing” (2 Timothy 4:7–8). 

There are benefits in this life and in the life to come. In this life, we experience love, joy, peace, and contentment—things people spend their entire lives chasing in other places. We find genuine love that is not transactional. We find relationships within the body of Christ that are not driven by drama or self-interest. We discover joy and contentment in the smallest things. We learn peace in the middle of a fear-saturated world, knowing that no matter what happens, we are secure in a Savior. 

These are treasures thieves cannot steal, moths cannot eat, and rust cannot destroy. And then there is the life to come, where we receive the crown of righteousness and hear the words we long for most: “Well done.” 

So the question becomes simple but searching: where are our investments? Where is our control? Often, we obey until God asks us to do something uncomfortable. Then we want to renegotiate. But look at Paul. Look at Philip. They had no control. And when we resist, God has a way of prodding us forward anyway. 

When Paul recounts his conversion before King Agrippa, he says, “We all fell down, and I heard a voice saying to me in Aramaic, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me? It is useless for you to fight against my will.’ ‘Who are you, lord?’ I asked. And the Lord replied, ‘I am Jesus, the one you are persecuting’” (Acts 26:14–15). Obedience without negotiation is the remedy. Anything else leads to resistance and pain. 

So as we look toward 2026, the call is clear. We must be devoted and determined in practical, visible ways. Outside the church, that means commitment to the Word—daily Scripture reading and prayer. Inside the church, it means engaging fully: watching and revisiting the message, opening the Bible, working through study questions, and participating corporately. It means getting off the couch. Virtual church is still an oxymoron. 

We need to gather. We need to serve. We need community. We need accountability—the spiritual equivalent of a workout partner who helps us stay consistent. We need to exercise our faith through generosity and take the next step God is asking of us. And for everyone, we need to continue the mission by sharing the gospel with love, being faithful witnesses, and inviting others to follow Jesus with us. 

We do not need a New Year’s resolution. 
We need daily dependence. 

We need devotion and determination. 

We are not called to try harder this year. We are called to depend deeper. Acts does not show us perfect people; it shows us dependent people. The church did not finish the mission because it was strong. It finished because it was Spirit-dependent. Paul did not endure because of his grit; he endured because Jesus held him. 

Resolutions rely on self-discipline alone. Daily dependence produces devotion, and devotion fuels determination. 

Paul never claimed to have arrived. He claimed to be running. He wrote, “I don’t mean to say that I have already achieved these things or that I have already reached perfection. But I press on to possess that perfection for which Christ Jesus first possessed me… I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us” (Philippians 3:12–14). Paul was not coasting. He was pressing—not because the race was easy, but because Jesus was worth it. 

God does not abandon what He starts. God does not quit on His work. God does not walk away mid-mission. Paul finished strong because God was faithful. 

And the same promise holds for us. 

We do not need a resolution. 
We need daily dependence. 
We need devotion and determination. 

God started it. 
God will finish it. 

We just need to keep running. 

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©️ Copyright 2025 Gene Simco Most Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright ©1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved. Scriptures in brackets reflect the original Biblical languages.

ACTS - Devoted & Determined

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