May 17, 2026 The Joy of Entrusting Ourselves to the Lord

Acts Lecture 79

Date: May 17, 2026

Title: The Joy of Entrusting Ourselves to the Lord

Scripture: Acts 15:4–6

4 When they came to Jerusalem, they were welcomed by the church and the apostles and the elders, and they declared all that God had done with them.

5 But some believers who belonged to the party of the Pharisees rose up and said, “It is necessary to circumcise them and to order them to keep the law of Moses.”

6 The apostles and the elders were gathered together to consider this matter.

Introduction

In 2009, a church in Seoul caused a major stir in the Christian community. They made a decision to address every male member over sixty years old as an "elder," provided they had been an ordained deacon for at least five years, registered at the church for over two years, and faithfully attended Sunday services.

The presbytery to which the church belonged immediately moved to prosecute, claiming the church had "disrupted the order of the denomination." A seminary professor strongly criticized it as an "anti-church system that throws the Korean church into chaos." In the end, the church and its pastor chose to leave the denomination.

Why did this church make such a drastic, bold move—one that broke a long-standing tradition in the deeply Presbyterian Korean church environment?

What do you think happened when almost every member over sixty suddenly began to be called an elder? The answer to that question reveals their exact motive.

First and foremost, the title of "elder" could no longer function as a supreme rank or hierarchy within the church. That was precisely the church's intention, and that was exactly why the broader religious establishment reacted so fiercely.

Then, we must ask: What does a biblical elder actually look like?

Originally, the word "elder" didn't strictly denote a formal "church leader" in the way we think of it today. In its root language, it simply means an "adult" or an "older person" in the community. It refers to someone who naturally takes on the role of a mature adult within a family or society.

This is why, throughout the Gospels and up until Acts chapter 6, the "elders" we read about are almost always lumped together with the Jewish religious leaders—the very people who persecuted Jesus and His disciples. However, as we move forward, we start to see that "elders" were also being established within the newly formed Christian churches.

[Acts 11:29–30] > 29 So the disciples determined, every one according to his ability, to send relief to the brothers living in Judea.

30 And they did so, sending it to the elders by the hand of Barnabas and Saul.

This passage describes a moment when the Syrian Antioch church—the very first Gentile church, where Paul and Barnabas belonged—decided to send financial aid to the churches in Judea, which were suffering through a severe famine.

The individuals chosen to deliver this offering were Barnabas and Saul (who was later called Paul). These were the people the church trusted most. And the individuals they trusted to receive and manage this offering on the other end were the "elders."

The next time we encounter elders is a scene we’ve been looking at closely over the last few weeks. It takes place after Paul was stoned nearly to death in Lystra, miraculously survived, and then courageously went right back into those cities to meet with the disciples.

[Acts 14:21–23] > 21 When they had preached the gospel to that city and had made many disciples, they returned to Lystra and to Iconium and to Antioch,

22 strengthening the souls of the disciples, encouraging them to continue in the faith, and saying that through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God.

23 And when they had appointed elders for them in every church, with prayer and fasting they committed them to the Lord in whom they had believed.

Now, places like Lystra, Iconium, and Pisidian Antioch are located in modern-day Turkey. At that time, these were cities deeply devoted to the worship of all kinds of Greco-Roman gods.

In these very cities, Paul faced persecution so severe that it almost cost him his life. Do you remember exactly why he was persecuted?

The ones who incited the crowd to stone Paul were Diaspora Jews who had traveled from neighboring cities. And the Gentiles they riled up—people who worshiped Zeus—joined in the attempt to kill Paul. Yet, the reasons these two groups wanted Paul dead were completely different.

The Jews were absolutely furious because Paul and his companions had come into their synagogues preaching that the Law of Moses could not save them, and that salvation could only come through faith in Jesus Christ, for Jew and Gentile alike.

But the Gentiles weren't angry about the Law of Moses. They were enraged because Paul was telling them that offering sacrifices to Zeus and Hermes was utterly worthless. He was shouting, "These are not real gods!"

You have probably heard stories from church history about how early Christians were thrown to wild beasts in Roman amphitheaters and martyred. Do you know what the actual legal charge against Christians was in the Roman Empire?

According to Roman historical records, Christians were condemned because they were Atheists.

Doesn't that sound incredibly strange? Today, we use the word "atheist" to describe people on the exact opposite side of the spectrum—those who argue against the existence of God and debate Christians. Yet, in the early Roman world, Christians were called atheists. Why?

Roman society was built on the worship of countless deities. If things weren't going well, you would sacrifice to God A. If that didn't work, you would turn and offer a sacrifice to God B.

It is very similar to traditional shamanism. People go searching for whatever spirit or shaman is rumored to be powerful. They offer massive bribes to the gods to secure wealth and prosperity, or they pour their heart into rituals to break a curse.

Because of this, every Greek and Roman household was filled with various idols and shrines.

If Paul had simply shown up and introduced Jesus as just another new god to add to the collection, there wouldn't have been any issue. The locals would have shrugged and said, "Oh, I guess there’s a god named Jesus, too."

But Paul’s message was radical. He looked at their shrines and said, "Everything you are sacrificing to is a fake. There is only one true God, the Maker of heaven and earth." That is what caused the massive uproar.

So, the Jews—tightly knit around their synagogues in these foreign lands—could not tolerate a gospel that said their beloved Law couldn't save them. Meanwhile, the Gentiles could not stand a gospel that declared the gods their ancestors had relied on for generations were nothing but illusions.

It was precisely in these hostile, volatile places that the very first churches were planted.

And as we have discussed over the past few weeks, a "church" back then wasn't a specific building with a cross on top. Whenever and wherever the disciples of Jesus gathered, that gathering was called the church.

In that sense, our church looks a lot like those early communities. As we journey through the Book of Acts, we actually get to experience glimpses of what those early believers went through. It isn’t always easy, but it is an incredible privilege.

Back then, each local church was roughly the size of an extended family. Naturally, within those groups, there were mature individuals who stepped up to care for the family, and Paul formally recognized them as the "elders" of each church.

After appointing these elders in every city, Paul returned to his home base, the church in Syrian Antioch.

So, who was left behind in those young churches? Only the elders and the brand-new disciples. There were no seminary-trained, professional pastors like we have today.

Think about it. In the face of constant, immediate threats—being branded as "atheists" by their neighbors—who had to make the hard decisions to protect the church? Who had to steady the hearts of shaken disciples? It was these elders.

When a church was struggling financially and received aid from another community, who was responsible for distributing those funds fairly? The elders. Who took the letters sent by Paul or the apostles and used them to teach the word and guide the flock? It was these very elders.

Therefore, in the earliest churches, "elder" wasn't a corporate title sitting at the top of a multi-tiered religious hierarchy. It was a term that encompassed all the mature adults who served the church, including those who preached and pastored.

If you look at Ephesians chapter 4, where Paul lists the various roles given to equip the church, the title "elder" isn't even mentioned as a separate category.

[Ephesians 4:11] > And he gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the shepherds and teachers,

This is because all of these roles belonged to the "mature leaders"—the elders—who served the body.

Similarly, when the Book of James instructs that if anyone is sick, they should call for "the elders of the church" to pray over them, it doesn't mean you should specifically exclude apostles or pastors. It simply means you should call for the spiritual leaders of the community.

However, by the time we reach the Epistles to Timothy—which were written much later in the New Testament timeline—we see that explicit qualifications for elders had to be written down. Why do you think that happened?

When the first churches were planted in Gentile lands, being an elder meant nothing but sacrifice, hardship, and putting your life on the line for the community. But as decades passed and churches multiplied, the role of an elder in certain places began to carry social honor. It became a potential position of power and influence. Consequently, people who lacked the spiritual character began desiring the title for the wrong reasons.

That is why the Apostle Paul had to lay down crystal-clear, non-negotiable qualifications for who could serve as an elder.

Elder QualificationsAbove reproachThe husband of one wifeSober-minded, self-controlled, respectableHospitable to strangersAble to teachNot a drunkardNot violent, but gentle and not quarrelsomeNot a lover of moneyManages his own household wellThought of well by outsiders

If you read further, the standards for deacons are virtually identical. The only real distinction is that those elders who labor in preaching and teaching—what we would call pastors today—were additionally required to have the "ability to teach." Beyond that, these are the core character traits required of all church leaders.

When the Bible says an elder must be "above reproach," it doesn't mean they have to be absolutely sinless in the eyes of an all-knowing God. It means that from the perspective of the people living around them, there is no glaring, valid accusation that can be brought against their character. Ultimately, these are the very virtues that every disciple of Jesus should be cultivating in their daily life.

Body

But imagine those first elders appointed in the pagan city of Lystra. How must they have felt the moment the apostles who brought them the gospel packed up and walked away? They must have kept repeating Paul’s parting words in their minds: "Continue in the faith." Let’s look closely at the very first thing—and the final thing—Paul did with them after choosing them.

[Acts 14:23] > And when they had appointed elders for them in every church, with prayer and fasting they committed them to the Lord in whom they had believed.

The moment Paul selected the elders, he didn't hand them a strategic manual. He knelt down with them in prayer and fasting. And then, the text says, he committed them to the Lord in whom they had believed.

This single verse has been deeply comforting and warming my heart for the past few weeks.

I can sense Paul’s heart—the weight of appointing people who were essentially new believers themselves and leaving the church in their hands. And I can also feel the immense weight resting on those new elders.

Honestly, how overwhelmed must they have felt? They didn't have a compiled New Testament yet. They didn't have a seasoned theologian residing in their town to answer their difficult questions. The overwhelming majority of the people around them were still worshiping Zeus. They had to navigate a world that couldn't comprehend their new faith, and they had brothers and sisters looking to them for protection and guidance.

Leaving them behind, Paul had no choice but to fast and pray. But his departure wasn't an act of irresponsibility. Paul knew exactly where his assignment ended. He recognized that his role had reached its limit, so he committed them to the Lord and walked away.

That is the profound difference between a social worker and a missionary of the gospel.

Just recently, the missionary couple we support, Pastor Ko Dong-hoon and his wife, left Israel. Just the day before the war broke out, they received a new calling to plant a seminary in Mexico. Of course, no one knew a war was imminent. Up until that final moment, they had been poured out in ministry within Bedouin villages. But after receiving word from a missionary in Mexico, they prayed for weeks, handed the Bedouin ministry over to their fellow partners, and departed. The very next day, the war erupted.

It sounds like something straight out of a movie—an Echo of the Book of Acts directing their lives. If they were merely secular social workers, walking away from a project like that mid-way would be considered irresponsible and unacceptable. In the secular world, if you don't stay to produce a visible, tangible result, it is deemed a failure.

But the people of God operate differently. It isn't irresponsible. Because the disciples and the church never belonged to them in the first place, they can pour out their lives to fulfill their specific portion of the work, and then beautifully entrust the rest to the Lord as they depart.

"They committed them to the Lord." These words move me so deeply. In that brief phrase lies a universe of internal struggle, tears, enduring hope, joy, and deep love.

Remember, Paul had just marched right back into the city filled with people who had tried to murder him, solely to establish these elders and strengthen this church. His departure was anything but careless. But when the time came to leave, because he never viewed the church as his own creation or possession, he freely handed it over to Jesus—the true Master and Owner of the church.

This year marks the nineteenth year our church is going on our short-term mission trip to South Dakota. The first time I went was eighteen years ago, during our second trip. I was much younger then. While missions always bring their share of hardships, it was an overwhelming, joyful experience for me. Back then, we didn't know each other as deeply as we do now, and we knew very little about the reservation itself. I think I just thoroughly enjoyed that week with God and came home.

However, in the years that followed, every single time we drove away from that place, a heavy sense of responsibility and lingering guilt would settle over my heart. I felt a painful ache about returning to my comfortable, normal routine while seemingly leaving those children behind.

I would worry: We had such a beautiful time together, but will next week feel even emptier and lonelier for them because we are gone? We preached passionately and urged them to keep attending church after we leave, but can these kids really walk back into a quiet sanctuary where only a handful of elderly members sit, after experiencing a week bursting with life and energy with us?

Those thoughts constantly weighed on the corner of my mind. But after navigating various situations over many years, God began to grow a deep, steady conviction within me every time I returned.

He whispered to my heart: "You have your specific role, and doing just that is completely enough."

For Paul, the church that felt like his immediate family—the place where he lived out his daily life, sharing mundane moments and deep affection—was the church in Syrian Antioch. He deeply loved the disciples in the churches he planted during his missionary journeys, but his love for them had to look different.

His calling there was to show up when opportunity allowed, love them with everything he had for a season, and occasionally send them letters. And that was enough.

The people we are called to love through the friction and messiness of daily life are right here in our local community. Our calling for that mission field is to visit once a year, love them fiercely with all our might, and when it’s time to leave, commit them into the hands of the Lord. That is our specific boundary and calling.

That is neither irresponsible nor hypocritical. It is loving people through the highest form of obedience to the specific boundary God has drawn for us. Because God has made this calling clearer to us year after year, we have been able to sustain this miraculous mission trip for nineteen years.

And there is another reason this text hits me so personally.

I cannot help but remember the day Pastor Choi, who planted this church, stood me up, committed this entire body to the Lord, and walked away. At that time, I had just graduated from seminary. I wasn't even ordained yet. My entire pastoral resume consisted of serving as a Sunday school preacher.

So, I think I know exactly how those young elders in Lystra felt. I knew how profoundly inadequate I was. Even now, seven years later, I still feel my shortcomings every single day. But back then? I truly felt like I knew how to do nothing.

The thought of disappointing the Lord who entrusted this to me was unbearable, yet there were so many moments when I honestly couldn't understand why He would place such a critical responsibility on someone as flawed as me.

But even though our church didn't have formally ordained elders, our staff, our leaders, and our ministry partners were right here. I remember so vividly how hard you all fought, how you endured through tears, and how desperately you held onto this church alongside me.

You are the ones who stepped up to carry the character and the responsibilities of an elder. In the truest sense, you have been the real elders of this church.

Through worldly eyes, both I and this church might look insignificant. But if you look through the eyes of God, look at how beautifully this church has grown and nurtured me as a pastor over the last seven years. Look at how faithfully the Lord has shaped each and every partner here into true disciples, co-laborers, and mature elders of His church. If we measure by that standard, isn't this an incredibly stunning and beautiful church?

Conclusion

Brothers and sisters, the church does not exist to make itself shine. The church exists because God still has precious souls in this world whom He loves so deeply, and He has placed us here to shine His light into their darkness. The church is meant to be the visible manifestation of the fullness of Christ left on this earth.

Lately, we’ve had individuals dropping by our church—some traveling through, some on business trips—joining us for just one special worship service before returning home. I do not believe these encounters are coincidences.

Look at how the churches we partner with are being blessed. Look at South Dakota—a land that once seemed entirely devoid of hope—where beautiful fruit is now ripening, and more children are finding stability and living with their mothers. This is happening because our small church, despite its size, has faithfully protected the small light given to us. It is because we are continually pouring out the life and fullness of Christ into the world as a beacon of light.

The title "elder" and the name "church" are used casually all over the world today. But haven't they drifted dangerously far from their original, biblical meaning? It has reached a point where we have to ask, "Are we even talking about the same thing anymore?"

Let us be a people who first recover the true definition of the church as outlined in Scripture. Let us become the right kind of disciples who truly make up the body of Christ.

We may still be clumsy, and we may still stumble, but at the very least, we are a people who know exactly where we came from and where we are going.

Think of the countless souls out there who have absolutely no idea where their lives originated or where they are heading. Our calling is to become the spiritual adults whom the Lord can trust to care for those wandering souls. We must become disciples who know how to offer the exact measure of love people need, and then have the faith to hand them over completely to the Lord.

When we live this way, we will become a church overflowing with the Lord's guidance and His vibrant life—a church that pours out the fullness of Jesus Christ to the very ends of the earth.

Let us pray.