The following is the conclusion to the sermon on Acts 19:21–41, "The Demetrius riot," preached at Red Door on Sunday 1 November 2026. You can find the audio here on Apple Podcasts, or jump over to our Acts Series page.
Having worked our way through Acts 19:23-41, where does that leave us?
I reckon one of the best things ever said about the early church came from someone who wasn't a Christian at all. The town clerk stands up in front of a furious crowd and says of the Christians that they're "not temple robbers or blasphemers of our goddess" (Acts 19:37). I'd love that to be said of us.
And at the same time, Demetrius was right too. The gospel really was emptying his shop, and the temple of Artemis really was in trouble. The gospel subverts – but it doesn't desecrate.
Now, it'd be easy to hear that as a lesson in good manners – be nice to people of other faiths. But that's not why the gospel works like this. It subverts without desecrating because that's exactly how it subverted us.
Every one of us had our own Artemis once. Paul says the Thessalonians turned to God from idols (1 Thess 1:9), and he reminds Titus:
“Remind them... to slander no one, to avoid fighting, and to be kind, always showing gentleness to all people. For we too were once foolish, disobedient, deceived...”
And how did God win us? He didn't storm our temples or humiliate us – he sent his Son, who, when he was insulted, didn't insult back (1 Pet 2:23). At the cross, God took our contempt rather than dealing it out. That's how he won us.
And look at what actually did the work in Ephesus. Just before our passage, Luke tells us "the word of the Lord spread and prevailed" (v.20). Not a mob, not a campaign – the word. Paul spent more than two years reasoning with people, "arguing and persuading" (vv.8–10), and even Demetrius admits Paul has "persuaded and misled a considerable number of people" (v.26). Misled, he says – but persuaded!
There's a thread that's run through this whole series: the mission belongs to God, and nothing can stop it. If that's true, we don't need to mock anyone, pressure anyone, or tear down what anyone holds sacred. When we feel the urge to, it's usually a sign we've stopped trusting that Jesus is risen and that his word is powerful.
One more thing I find really striking. In the whole of Luke's story, the only house Jesus ever cleans out is his own Father's (Luke 19:45–46). And the only things burned in Ephesus were the believers' own magic books (Acts 19:19). The gospel's first desecration is always of our own idols.
So what does that look like on Monday morning? Let’s get really practical – three things.
First, no desecration in what we do
Other people's sacred things aren't ours to touch – the little shrine on a colleague's desk, the family altar in your friend's lounge room, the temple or mosque or gurdwara just down the road. We don't move them, mock them or deface them. In Athens, Paul looked carefully at all their objects of worship (Acts 17:23) – he looked, but he never laid a hand on one.
And what about when we're invited in? I love this – Paul's most detailed teaching on living among idols, 1 Corinthians 8 to 10, was written from Ephesus (1 Cor 16:8), very likely during the years we've just been reading about. And it's so practical. If a friend invites you to Diwali dinner, or to break the fast at Eid – go! Eat what's put in front of you (1 Cor 10:27). Friendship isn't compromise. But don't join in the worship itself – no offering, no bowing to the image (1 Cor 10:21). And if someone tells you a particular food has been offered – prasad, for example – Paul is really clear in his instruction:
“But if someone says to you, ‘This is food from a sacrifice,’ do not eat it, out of consideration for the one who told you, and for the sake of conscience. I do not mean your own conscience, but the other person’s.”
So it's not because you're disgusted – it's for their sake. Just decline it graciously.
And for those of us who think about these things in relation to the spiritual realm – so did Paul. He knew there were real spiritual powers behind the idols (1 Cor 10:20). And yet in all his time in that city, Luke gives no hint that Paul ever confronted the temple of Artemis. So pray for your neighbours – by name, for their salvation. But words or rituals or declarations aimed at someone else's sacred place go beyond anything Paul did here.
So, first: no desecration in what we do.
Second, no derision in what we say
That starts with describing what other people believe accurately. In Athens, Paul quoted their own poets back to them (Acts 17:28). So try this: if your Hindu friend, your Muslim colleague or your atheist brother-in-law heard you describe what they believe, would they recognise it? If not, we're arguing with a caricature – we're shadow boxing – and we're not loving our neighbour.
It's right to grieve over idolatry – Paul was deeply distressed by the idols of Athens – but his distress turned into reasoning, not ridicule (Acts 17:16–17).
Oh, and online speech is still speech! (Even when it’s anonymous). The meme that mocks another faith, the pile-on in the comments – that's derision. Christians can become a shouting crowd too (Acts 19:32–34) – two hours of chanting, with most people not quite sure why they're there! Paul told the Colossians, in the same province as Ephesus, to let their speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt (Col 4:6). And he told Timothy – most likely still in Ephesus – that the Lord's servant mustn't be quarrelsome, but should correct opponents with gentleness (2 Tim 2:24–25).
So here's a question worth sitting with: if our posts, our jokes and our dinner-table comments were read out in that theatre, could a fair-minded town clerk still say of us, "they're not blasphemers of our goddess"?
First: no desecration in what we do
Second: no derision in what we say, and
Third – and this matters just as much – we don't blunt the claim
Gentleness isn't silence. For two years Paul told Ephesus, out loud and in public, that "gods made by hand are not gods" (v.26). Timothy is still to correct (2 Tim 2:25), and Peter still tells us to be ready to give a reason for the hope we have (1 Pet 3:15).
So when someone asks you, "Do you reckon all religions lead to God?" – don't dodge it. You might say something like, "Honestly, no – but I'd love to tell you why I think Jesus is different, because I think he actually rose from the dead." That's the claim, without the contempt.
And expect it to cost you. Demetrius wasn't wrong – the gospel was bad for business. Some people will be offended by the cross itself (1 Cor 1:23), and there's nothing we can do about that. But Peter is really precise in 1 Peter 4: don't suffer as a wrongdoer or a meddler, he says, but if you suffer as a Christian, don't be ashamed (vv.15–16). So when opposition comes, the honest question is: are they offended by Jesus, or by me?
And the cost might come to us first. Those Ephesian believers burned their own books – worth fifty thousand pieces of silver, something like $10 million in today's money (Acts 19:19)! So it's worth asking: where does my income, my security or my sense of who I am depend on something the gospel calls an idol?
Let me leave you with four questions to take into the week – they'd make for a great conversation over lunch today or in your small group:
Have I burned my own books before I criticise someone else's temple?
Have I said the true thing, or only the comfortable thing?
Would a fair-minded clerk clear me of desecration and derision?
If I'm opposed, is it for Jesus, or because of my manner?
The gospel doesn't need to desecrate Artemis's temple. It only needs to be true – and it is. The mission belongs to God, and nothing can stop it.
My prayer for us this week is that we'd be people who say the true thing about Jesus, clearly and kindly, and trust him to do the rest.
