Acts 7 has always been a chapter that resonates with me as Stephen is my namesake. My parents started in a very small church in 1957, the year I was born. When born my parents chose the name Stephen to aid in my walk with Christ throughout my life-although there have been many twists and turns, I still love Jesus with my whole heart and proclain His name above all else.

Every time I read Acts 7, I’m struck by how bold, brilliant, and unsettling Stephen’s speech is. It’s often called his diatribe, but that word barely captures the force of what’s happening. This isn’t just a defense speech. It’s a sweeping retelling of Israel’s story, a prophetic confrontation, and the spark that ignites the next chapter of the early church.

Stephen stands before the Sanhedrin—accused of speaking against Moses, the Law, and the Temple—and instead of pleading for his life, he delivers the longest recorded speech in the entire book of Acts. And what he says still echoes with relevance.

Here’s what I see when I sit with Stephen’s words.

1. Stephen Reframes Israel’s Story—And Mine

Stephen starts with Abraham and walks through Joseph, Moses, the wilderness, and the building of the Temple. At first glance, it looks like a history lesson. But it’s not. It’s a reframing.

He’s showing that Israel’s story is not just about God’s faithfulness—it’s also about Israel’s repeated resistance.

And honestly, that hits close to home. I see my own patterns in that story:

• God moves
• I hesitate
• God calls
• I resist
• God sends help
• I push back

Stephen’s retelling becomes a mirror.

2. He Exposes a Pattern of Rejecting God’s Messengers

This is the heart of his argument.

• Joseph was rejected by his brothers
• Moses was rejected by his people
• The prophets were rejected by the nation

Stephen’s point is painfully clear: “You’re doing the same thing to Jesus that your ancestors did to every messenger God ever sent.”

It’s a reminder that rejecting God rarely looks dramatic. It often looks like clinging to comfort, tradition, or control.

3. He Challenges Their View of the Temple

One of the accusations against Stephen was that he spoke against the Temple. Instead of denying it, he reframes the whole idea of sacred space.

He reminds them:

• God met Abraham in Mesopotamia
• God met Joseph in Egypt
• God met Moses in Midian
• God met Israel in the wilderness

The message is unmistakable: God is not confined to a building.

It’s a challenge I need too. I can easily shrink God down to the places and patterns I’m comfortable with. Stephen reminds me that God is always bigger.

4. He Confronts Hypocrisy With Prophetic Courage

Stephen ends with a sharp, fearless accusation:

• “You resist the Holy Spirit.”
• “You betrayed and murdered the Righteous One.”
• “You received the Law but didn’t keep it.”

It’s raw. It’s direct. It’s costly.

And it’s a reminder that truth‑telling—real, Spirit‑filled truth‑telling—will always come with a price.

5. His Death Becomes a Turning Point

Stephen becomes the first Christian martyr, and his death triggers a wave of persecution that scatters believers beyond Jerusalem. What looks like tragedy becomes the catalyst for mission.

And standing in the crowd is a young man named Saul.

Stephen’s courage plants a seed that will later bloom in Paul’s ministry. It’s a reminder that faithfulness often bears fruit we never get to see.

Why Stephen’s Speech Still Matters to Me

Stephen’s diatribe isn’t just a historical moment. It’s a spiritual wake‑up call.

It challenges me to ask:

• Where am I resisting God’s voice
• What “temples” have I built that limit my view of God
• Am I willing to speak truth even when it costs me
• Do I see the bigger story God is writing

Stephen’s words are uncomfortable—but they’re also liberating. They remind me that God’s presence is not confined, His messengers are often unexpected, and His mission is always bigger than my comfort.

Discovering the Path of Salvation

Every time a new year rolls in, I feel that familiar mix of excitement and pressure. I start thinking about goals, habits, improvements, and all the ways I want the next twelve months to be different. But this year, something unexpected happened: Luke 9:22–25 stopped me in my tracks.

In this passage, Jesus speaks openly about His suffering, death, and resurrection. Then He turns to His followers—including me—and says, “If you want to follow Me, deny yourself, take up your cross daily, and follow Me.” And then comes the line that hits me hardest: “What good is it to gain the whole world, yet lose yourself?”

As I sit with these words at the start of a new year, they’re reshaping how I think about everything ahead of me.

1. I Need to Begin the Year With Honesty, Not Illusion

Jesus doesn’t pretend His path will be easy. He names the cost. That challenges me, because I often enter a new year with unrealistic expectations—hoping for ease, momentum, and quick wins.

This passage pushes me to ask myself:

• What truths have I been avoiding
• What responsibilities do I need to face
• What will faithfulness actually require of me this year

I’m realizing that a meaningful year starts with honesty, not hype.

2. “Take Up Your Cross Daily” Is the Rhythm I Actually Need

That word daily keeps echoing in my mind.

I tend to think in big resolutions and sweeping changes, but Jesus invites me into something smaller and steadier:

• Daily surrender
• Daily alignment
• Daily choosing what matters over what’s convenient
• Daily returning to God’s purpose

It reframes the year for me. Instead of one giant leap, it’s 365 small steps of obedience.

3. I Need to Reorder My Loves Before I Set My Goals

Jesus talks about losing my life for His sake in order to truly find it. That forces me to look at what I’m centering my life around.

New Year’s culture tells me:

“Make this year all about you.”

But Jesus gently redirects me:

“Make this year about what lasts.”

Before I fill my calendar or chase new ambitions, I’m asking myself:

• What am I really living for
• What am I willing to sacrifice for what truly matters
• What loves need to be reordered

This passage is helping me recalibrate my heart before I plan my year.

4. “Gain the World, Lose Yourself” Is the Warning I Didn’t Know I Needed

This line feels painfully relevant.

I can chase success, productivity, money, image, and status—and still lose the most important part of me. I can “win” at life and still lose my soul.

So I’m redefining success for the year ahead:

• Depth over speed
• Character over image
• Purpose over popularity
• Faithfulness over frantic achievement

Jesus measures gain differently than the world does, and I want to learn His way.

5. This Year Isn’t Just About Improving Myself—It’s About Following Jesus

Most of my New Year’s goals revolve around self‑improvement. But Jesus isn’t inviting me to become a “better version” of myself. He’s inviting me to become a truer one—someone shaped by His life, His love, His priorities.

This year, I want to see it as:

• A journey of discipleship
• A year of becoming more like Christ
• A year of aligning my life with God’s story

It’s not about self‑help. It’s about surrender.

A Final Thought

As I step into this new year, Luke 9:22–25 is calling me to shift my focus from self‑centered resolutions to a Christ‑centered way of living. It’s challenging, but it’s also freeing. It reminds me that the most important work I’ll do this year won’t be about gaining the world—it’ll be about guarding my soul.