Is Anyone Too Far Gone for God's Grace?

By Pastor John Erickson

I want you to think of someone you have a really hard time liking. Not the person who cuts in front of you at the grocery store. I mean someone whose behavior, beliefs, or past makes you recoil.

Now imagine God uses that very person to do something beautiful.

How would you feel?

Acts 8 introduces us to a church discovering that God's grace reaches much farther than the boundaries they were accustomed to. And tucked into the story is a man who causes all sorts of theological headaches.

His name is Simon.

Good news crosses an old boundary

At the beginning of Acts 8, persecution scatters believers beyond Jerusalem. What looks like an interruption becomes an opportunity for the good news of Jesus to travel.

Philip goes to Samaria and proclaims Christ. We can read that today without much reaction. Samaria? Great. Next verse.

But to many first-century Jewish hearers, Samaria was not a neutral destination. A history of religious and ethnic hostility separated the communities. Samaritans were often viewed with contempt. Jesus' story of the Good Samaritan was startling precisely because of that hostility.

So Philip announcing Jesus in Samaria isn't simply a change of venue. It's the gospel crossing a boundary people had treated as nearly permanent.

Crowds listen. People experience healing and deliverance. There is joy in the city. The story is making a point: the good news is not the possession of one group.

Meet Simon, the man everyone knows

Simon has a reputation in Samaria. He practices magic, impresses people, and enjoys being considered somebody important. Then Philip arrives with a message and power that Simon cannot explain away.

Acts 8 says Simon believes and is baptized. He follows Philip, astonished by the signs he sees.

You might expect the story to end there. Former magician meets Jesus, everything changes, happy ending. Roll credits.

Instead, Peter and John arrive, and Simon sees the Holy Spirit being given through prayer and the laying on of hands. Simon offers money in exchange for that ability.

Oh, Simon.

It's as if he has encountered something genuine and immediately tries to turn it into a business opportunity. He wants what they have. More specifically, he wants the power and attention he thinks it might give him.

Peter's response is severe. God's gift cannot be bought. Simon must repent of the motive behind his request.

Old habits don't disappear overnight

There is debate among interpreters about whether Simon was ever truly converted. Acts describes his belief and baptism, yet Peter's warning exposes serious trouble in his heart. The passage doesn't give us permission to pretend we can see every part of Simon's inner life.

Personally, I have some sympathy for Simon. Luke says he believed and was baptized, and I am reluctant to explain those words away. After Peter's rebuke, Simon asks the apostles to pray for him. That does not settle every question about his heart, but it makes me slow to dismiss him.

I also recognize how quickly an old desire can reappear. We can sincerely turn toward Jesus and still discover that the wish to be important has followed us into the room. That is no excuse for Simon's request. It is a reason to examine ourselves before deciding his problem belongs to an entirely different species of person.

What we can see is familiar: a person encounters the gospel while still carrying habits shaped by an old identity.

For Simon, the old life was about influence, status, and getting people to notice his power. When he sees the apostles, he slips toward that old way of thinking. He's tempted to use God's gift as a tool for making himself important.

We may not be former professional magicians. Most of us aren't trying to purchase the ability to lay hands on people. But we know what it's like to drag old motivations into a new relationship with God.

A person accustomed to control may try to control church life. Someone who craves approval may turn ministry into a performance. Someone who always needs to win an argument may use Scripture as another weapon.

Sometimes the thing Jesus wants to transform is not only what we do. It is why we do it.

Grace doesn't mean avoiding hard conversations

Peter does not ignore Simon's behavior to keep everyone comfortable. He names the problem and calls him to repentance.

Christian love includes that kind of truthfulness. In fact, refusing to challenge a destructive motive may be the least loving thing we could do. But Peter's confrontation is not permission for us to dismiss people because of their past or their struggle.

Think about the larger story. The gospel has crossed into a despised community. A man with an unsettling reputation is being confronted with God's holiness and mercy. Luke refuses to turn either reality into a neat slogan.

God's grace reaches unlikely people. And God's grace calls those same people to be changed.

Both matter.

Who have you quietly ruled out?

Sometimes we're tempted to decide in advance who could never follow Jesus. We look at a person's politics, habits, criminal record, or beliefs and silently draw a line.

Acts 8 reminds us that the church's mission is not to protect the boundaries of our comfort. It is to bear witness to Jesus wherever he sends us.

It also asks those of us already inside the church a difficult question: what part of our old life are we still trying to bring into the kingdom unchanged?

Simon wanted God's power on his own terms. Peter invited him to repent.

One question I find useful is to look at my prayers. Am I mainly asking God to help accomplish my agenda, or am I also asking how I can join what he is doing? Bringing needs to God is good. Treating him as a means of making me important is something else.

Perhaps the invitation for us is similar. Stop deciding who is reachable. Stop trying to turn Jesus into a tool for our agenda. And trust that the same grace that crosses every boundary can also begin changing our hearts.