And as he reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to
come, Felix trembled, and answered, Go thy way for this time;
when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee.--_Acts
24, 25._
Felix, the man here mentioned, was the Roman Governor or Procurator
of Judea. Felix is a Latin word and means "happy." But Felix was not
happy, for no wicked person can be happy, and Felix was a wicked
person. Tacitus, the historian, says of him: "In the practice of
all kinds of cruelty and lust, Felix exercised the power of a king
with the temper of a slave." A sample we have here given. It
reads in the previous verse: "After certain days, ... Felix came
with his wife." Strictly taken, she was not his wife, but, being
persuaded to elope to him from her husband, the two were living
together in an adulterous alliance. And before this man appears
a prisoner, unpretentious-looking, loaded with chains. He had
stood before the Governor once before in answer to certain charges
made by his countrymen, and had so ably and convincingly defended
himself that, had it not been, as it says in the next verse, that
Felix expected to realize something out of the case by way of a
bribe, he would have set him free. As it was, the Governor had
been so impressed with Paul's (for none other was the prisoner)
forceful speech that he requested the apostle to give him a more
explicit account concerning the religion he preached. He arranges
the occasion, and the champion of the cross gladly availed himself
of the opportunity. We do not know the precise course which he
followed in his address to Felix, but his general outline was based
on the same principles that every good Christian sermon is based on,
viz., faith and practice. First he spoke concerning the faith in
Christ, that is, the Christian faith, laying down its fundamental
and cardinal facts and doctrines. But as a sick man will never send
for the physician till he is aware of his danger, so the sinner
will never betake himself to the redeeming blood of his Savior
till he becomes sensible of his lost and sinful condition. The
apostle, therefore, not only preaches the Gospel; he also preaches
the Law. "He reasoned," it says, "of righteousness, temperance,
and judgment to come." No topics could have been more appropriate.
Felix was a high-ranked magistrate, accustomed to see every one
prostrate at his feet. Paul points out to him that though there
be various gradations in social life, the one a king, the other a
subject, the one stepping on a carpet of down and gold, the other
walking barefoot through the dust, in the sight of God all these
distinctions avail not. Yea, having higher opportunities, a man's
responsibilities are but the greater, and woe if in the discharge
of his office a man measure not up to the responsibilities. Thus,
turning to the next particular, he reasoned of temperance, _i. e._,
the right government of the passions; he showed him how intemperance
degrades the character, debases society, and invites the punishment
of God, and, finally, placing his sermon on still higher ground,
he draws away for a moment from the eyes of Felix the bandage that
concealed the sight of futurity, and ushers him in thought before
the judgment-bar of his unalterable Judge.
He had invited this prisoner, far-famed for his topic and eloquence,
to give a display of his powers, but he had never supposed such
a presentation. As the divine word, the two-edged sword of the
Spirit, wielded by such an arm, cut into the joints and marrow of
the profligate sinner's conscience. It had the same effect which
the handwriting on the wall once had upon Belshazzar of Babylon.
He moved about uneasily, his color changed, his knees smote one
against the other; "he trembled," it says. The truth had smitten to
the heart, and then? Was truth victorious? Did virtue conquer? Did
the judgment-hall echo the words of the Philippian jailer, "What
shall I do to be saved?" or, like the publican, did he smite upon
his breast, saying, "God be merciful to me a sinner"? How the angels
would have rejoiced, and Felix would have been what his name means,
"happy." But Satan knew his man too well. In a moment the smitten
sinner had rallied from his shock; with a grace and courtesy, truly
admirable if it had not been so disastrous, he says: "Go thy way for
this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee."
The story of Felix has been written for our admonition. God grant
that like an arrow it may smite into the joints and marrow of our
conscience to-day. Our theme is: