The Sting of Biblical Bluntness

This story turns out to be a battle between the gospel-centred, Gentile-friendly expansion of the word of God, and the superstitious envyings of Jewish false religion.

The church at Antioch, it seemed, had all the bells and whistles: prophets and teachers aplenty. All the R.C. Sprouls and John MacArthurs were at Antioch. There was even a cool black dude (at least, I assume that’s why he was “called Niger”). Yes, Antioch was the place to be now – no longer Jerusalem. The gospel’s world capital had shifted to a Gentile city.

Barnabas is mentioned first, and Saul is mentioned last (v1). Yet, it is these two who hit the road in the subsequent verses, in search of new land as yet untrammelled by the steamrolling gospel.

The first place they preach is a “synagogue of the Jews”, a fact which, after such a focus on Gentiles thriving in Antioch, is intended to strike the reader as significant. They run into a Jewish false prophet – whose existence in the record seems to contrast the true “prophets” of v1. Whereas men truly endowed with the charismatic gift of prophecy could authoritatively say “here is a word from the Lord”, this false prophet would have to use “deceit and fraud” to manipulate his audience into believing his words had weight.

The method he used was “magic”. Not genuine miracle-working, but magic. It is not clear whether his power is demonically derived (i.e., real magic), or if he is simply the David Blaine type of trickster. Either way, the true evilness of his methods is seen in his actions in v8. Through envy – a common theme in Luke and Acts – this Jewish man wished to prevent anyone from being taken in by the word of God. He genuinely feared that his followers would be subverted, one of whom was likely the proconsul himself.

So Paul fixed his gaze on him. It was probably one of those piercers that feels like it is reaching down into your boots and pulling out the sole. It was meant to jar. It was intended to convey a confidence that only true divine authority could impart. Elymas was supposed to squirm.

Following up on the stare, Paul’s words did not disappoint (v10). It is safe to say they will not go down in history as the most diplomatic or tactful of remarks. Then again, it doesn’t seem like that’s what he was going for. With wrath building inside of him against the deceit being perpetrated by this man, he calls him a “son of the devil” – and what’s more, does so without sinning. (This is the man, remember, who would soon write that he “wished the enemies of the gospel would emasculate themselves.” Quite the fiery guy when he really got down to it).

Elymas is made blind (v11), which is exactly what happened to Paul several chapters prior. As such, we may assume that Luke is intending Elymas’s plight to mirror that of Paul’s. Before his conversion, Paul, like Elymas, was a deceptive (and deceived) Jewish false teacher. He was also a “son of the Devil” and an “enemy of all righteousness.” Indeed, the statement “make crooked the straight ways of the Lord” ought to remind us of when the Lord asked “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?”

Verses 10-11, therefore, gives us a fascinating picture into how Acts-chapter-13-Paul would have spoken to Acts-chapter-7-or-8-Paul. Seeing himself in this man, Paul genuinely wants him to undergo the same conversion experience. So he sends him blind.

In this light, how wonderful it is that such harsh words (v10-11) could legitimately come from a place of love, and a desire for the best of Elymas.

Ironically, the proconsul “saw” Elymas’s loss of sight, and it was this that caused him to gape, astonished.

If there is a genuinely deceived and deceptive teacher in your midst, it is not loving to gingerly approach him (or, let’s be honest, in this day and age – her) with weak words and kindly eyes. As Paul did to Elymas – and as Jesus did to Paul – it is imperative to apply the full force of blunt rhetoric and unkindly gaze; and that publicly.