Untitled Sermon (9)

Opening Introduction: “The Unknown God and the Known Christ”

If one wished to understand the modern world, he might do worse than to begin in ancient Athens.

For though the stones of the Acropolis are weathered and the voices of her philosophers long silenced, the spirit of Athens is very much alive. We still live in a world crowded with ideas, rich in learning, adorned with culture—and yet, strangely, uncertain of God.

Athens was not a city of ignorance. She was a city of knowledge without light. Her streets had heard the footsteps of Socrates, her academies had shaped the minds of Plato and Aristotle, and her marketplaces rang with debate on truth, virtue, and the meaning of life. If ever a civilization believed it could think its way to heaven, it was Athens.

And yet, as Paul walked through her marble avenues, he saw not a city drawing nearer to God, but a city hedged about with idols—so many, in fact, that one altar bore the inscription:

“To the Unknown God.”

This altar is one of the most revealing monuments in all of human history.

It is the confession of the human heart carved in stone: We know there is something more. We simply do not know who He is.

Alfred Edersheim would remind us that this was no mockery, but sincere reverence. The Athenians feared offending a deity they had failed to name. They built an altar not to what they believed, but to what they suspected. It was theology by instinct—religion by conscience—worship offered in the dark.

And here the Gospel enters, not as a rival philosophy, but as a divine interruption.

Paul does not come to Athens as a conqueror with a sword, nor as a mystic with secret visions, but as a herald with a message rooted in history. He stands amid the temples of human thought and declares, in effect:

The God you have been guessing at has revealed Himself. The One you have been seeking has stepped into time. The Unknown God has made Himself known—in Jesus Christ.

C.S. Lewis once observed that men do not invent religions because they love illusions, but because they are haunted by reality. Every myth is a shadow. Every idol is a silhouette. Every philosophy is a question mark shaped like God.

Athens had all the questions. Paul brought the Answer.

And the great drama of Acts 17 is this: What happens when the Gospel of a risen Christ meets the world’s greatest marketplace of ideas?

Not a riot, as in Thessalonica. Not a revival, as in Berea. But something far more searching:

A collision between human wisdom and divine revelation. Between a world that loves to discuss truth— and a God who is the Truth.

The Gospel Among the Thinkers

Acts 17:10–34 — “From the Synagogue to Mars’ Hill”

I. Setting the Scene: Review of Acts 17:1–9 (Thessalonica)

Before we arrive at the cool marble of Athens, we must pass through the heated streets of Thessalonica.

“And Paul, as his manner was, went in unto them, and three sabbath days reasoned with them out of the scriptures.” (Acts 17:2)

Here we see Paul’s settled method:

The place – the synagogue.

The means – reasoning.

The source – the Scriptures.

The message – Christ must suffer and rise again.

Paul does not present Christianity as a novelty but as the fulfillment of an ancient promise. This is deeply Edersheim-like: Christianity is not a break from Israel’s hope, but its flowering.

Yet truth always disturbs the false peace of a city. The Jews who believed not stirred a mob and accused Paul of:

“These that have turned the world upside down…” (v.6)

An unintended confession of the Gospel’s power.

The irony, as Lewis might say, is delicious: they meant to accuse Paul of chaos, but described the exact effect of truth entering a world built on lies.

II. The Noble Bereans (Acts 17:10–15)

“These were more noble than those in Thessalonica, in that they received the word with all readiness of mind, and searched the scriptures daily, whether those things were so.” (v.11)

The Berean Model

Here we meet what might be called the gold standard of spiritual character.

Not:

blind acceptance,

nor cynical rejection,

but humble examination.

Lewis would note that the Bereans combine two rare virtues:

Openness of mind (they received the word)

Strength of mind (they tested it)

They did not test Paul by their opinions, but by the Scriptures.

This is crucial: the authority was not Paul’s personality, nor his experience, nor even his miracles—but the written Word of God.

Edersheim would remind us that this reflects the best tradition of Jewish learning: disciples sitting under the Law, not as critics above it, but as servants beneath it.

And the result?

“Therefore many of them believed…” (v.12)

Truth examined honestly does not shrink—it shines.

III. A City Full of Gods, and Empty of God (Acts 17:16–21)

Now Paul stands alone in Athens, the intellectual capital of the ancient world.

This is not Jerusalem with its Temple, nor Rome with its power, but Athens with its ideas.

“His spirit was stirred in him, when he saw the city wholly given to idolatry.” (v.16)

The Greek phrase suggests a city “smothered in idols.”

Petronius once joked that it was easier to find a god in Athens than a man.

Paul’s Holy Disturbance

Paul is not impressed. He is provoked.

Not with anger, but with grief.

Lewis once wrote that idolatry is not loving the wrong thing too much, but loving the right thing too little.

Athens worshipped:

reason,

beauty,

culture,

philosophy,

but had lost the living God.

So Paul does two things:

reasons in the synagogue (with Jews),

reasons in the marketplace (with philosophers).

The Gospel is not afraid of:

religion,

nor intellect,

nor public debate.

IV. Mars’ Hill: The Greatest Sermon to the Pagan Mind (Acts 17:22–31)

This is one of the most remarkable sermons in history: the Gospel translated into philosophical language without being diluted.

1. The Unknown God (v.22–23)

“I perceive that in all things ye are too superstitious.”

Not an insult, but a diagnosis: “You are religious to excess—but ignorant of the One you most need.”

“To the Unknown God… Him declare I unto you.”

Paul does not attack their altar. He fulfills it.

Lewis would say: Every human heart has an altar to something it cannot name.

Paul reveals:

You are not ignorant because you are stupid, but because you are made for more than this world can show you.

2. God the Creator (v.24–25)

“God that made the world and all things therein…”

Paul begins where Genesis begins: Not with Christ yet, but with Creation.

This is masterful: He does not quote Moses to Greeks. He reasons from reality itself.

God is:

not local,

not needy,

not maintained by temples,

not served by human hands.

This destroys both:

pagan idolatry,

and modern humanism.

God is not our project. We are His.

3. God the Sustainer and Seeker of Men (v.26–28)

“That they should seek the Lord, if haply they might feel after him, and find him…”

Here is a line Lewis would love: Humanity is groping in the dark for a God who is already near.

“For in him we live, and move, and have our being.”

Paul even quotes their own poets.

Truth is not afraid of borrowing language, because all truth ultimately belongs to God.

4. God the Judge (v.29–31)

Now the tone changes.

“God now commandeth all men every where to repent.”

Not suggest. Not invite. Command.

Why?

“Because he hath appointed a day, in the which he will judge the world in righteousness by that man whom he hath ordained…”

Here comes the unavoidable scandal:

“…whereof he hath given assurance unto all men, in that he hath raised him from the dead.”

The resurrection is the dividing line.

Philosophy can tolerate:

ethics,

ideals,

spirituality.

But resurrection means: history has been interrupted by God.

V. Three Responses to the Gospel (Acts 17:32–34)

When they hear of resurrection:

Mockers

“Some mocked…”

Procrastinators

“We will hear thee again…”

Believers

“Certain men clave unto him, and believed…”

Including:

Dionysius (a member of the council),

Damaris (a woman of influence).

Lewis once said:

Christianity is the only faith that forces every person into a decision. You cannot admire Christ—you must either reject Him or worship Him.

Athens did not erupt in revival. But souls were saved.

And heaven keeps better statistics than history.

VI. The Great Themes of Acts 17

1. The Gospel is Reasonable, Not Irrational

Paul reasons. He persuades. He argues. Christianity is not anti-intellectual—it is anti-falsehood.

2. The Gospel is Universal

From synagogue to marketplace. From Jew to Greek. From Scripture to philosophy.

One Christ. For all men.

3. The Gospel Demands Repentance

Not self-improvement. Not spiritual curiosity. But a change of mind, direction, and allegiance.

4. The Resurrection is the Center

Remove it and Christianity becomes:

a philosophy,

a moral code,

a cultural artifact.

Keep it and Christianity becomes:

a cosmic invasion,

a historical earthquake,

a living hope.

Conclusion (in Lewis’ tone)

Closing Invitation: “From the Unknown to the Known”

And so we leave the hill of Mars, not with the echo of applause, but with the far more solemn sound of decision.

Athens did not erupt in repentance. There was no sweeping revival, no sudden turning of the city to God. Instead, Scripture records three quiet responses—so quiet, in fact, that they might easily be missed:

“Some mocked.” “Some said, We will hear thee again.” “Certain men clave unto him, and believed.”

These three voices have never stopped speaking. They speak still in every church, every classroom, every home, and every human heart.

There are those who mock— not always with laughter, but with indifference. They dismiss the resurrection as a relic of simpler minds, forgetting that it was first proclaimed among the sharpest minds of the ancient world.

There are those who delay— not rejecting Christ, but postponing Him. They intend to seek God “someday,” unaware that the greatest danger to the soul is not outright rebellion, but respectful procrastination.

And then there are those who cleave unto Him.

Not those who understood everything. Not those who solved every mystery. But those who, standing in a world full of questions, recognized in Jesus Christ the only Answer large enough for the human heart.

Lewis once wrote that Christianity is not about becoming better people, but about becoming new people—creatures remade from the inside out by contact with divine life. That is what happened to Dionysius. That is what happened to Damaris. That is what happens to every soul that moves from curiosity to surrender.

The Unknown God does not wish to remain unknown.

He has spoken. He has acted. He has entered history. He has raised His Son from the dead.

And now He does not ask for your speculation, your admiration, or your applause.

He commands repentance. He offers forgiveness. He invites faith.

Not because He is far, but because He is near.

And the question that lingered in the cool Athenian air now rests, quietly and inescapably, upon us:

Will you mock? Will you delay? Or will you cleave unto Him and believe?

For the altar still stands in every human heart— and upon it is written:

To the Unknown God.

But tonight, He has made Himself known.

Acts 17 shows us a world much like our own: religious, educated, sophisticated, curious— and yet profoundly ignorant of God.

Men still build altars: to success, to reason, to politics, to pleasure, to self.

And over every one of them is written: “To the Unknown God.”

The Gospel does not come to destroy man’s search, but to end it.

Not with an idea, but with a Person.

Not with speculation, but with resurrection.

And the question Athens could not avoid is the same one Warwick, Boston, London, and New York cannot avoid:

What will you do with the Man God raised from the dead?

Mock Him. Delay Him. Or cleave unto Him.