How to Change the World

What does it mean to change the world?

That was the question behind an email I got this week after the tour around Tassie. The writer had been encouraged to see all the faithful little churches across the state—but he was honest. “Most of them are small,” he said, “and not growing fast. What does it mean to have an impact?” What does it mean to have a successful church?

That’s exactly the question Acts 19–20 answers.

When Paul arrives in Ephesus, he doesn’t come in with a grand plan. He starts by looking for what God’s already doing. That’s always the first step in mission: assume God is already at work. That’s what I tried to do on the church tour—not asking, “What big idea can we bring?” but “Where is God already moving?”

Paul finds people shaped by John the Baptist’s message of repentance. But they haven’t met Jesus yet. So Paul introduces them to the one John pointed to. And when he lays hands on them, they receive the Holy Spirit. That’s the pattern: we’re not just meant to deal with our history or improve our religion—we’re meant to surrender to Jesus and be empowered by the Spirit.

Then Paul gets to work. He preaches boldly in the synagogue for three months, trying to help people who think they understand the Bible see that Jesus is the key and the Kingdom of God is the point. It’s not just a new belief system. It’s a whole new way of living.

Some people don’t like it. The text says they became stubborn and publicly spoke against “the Way.” That’s what early Christians were known as—not a religion, but a way of life. Jesus said, “I am the way,” and they believed Him.

When he’s kicked out of the synagogue, Paul doesn’t complain. He doesn’t start a fight. He simply moves next door to the lecture hall of Tyrannus—likely a local university space—and teaches there every day for two years. That’s where his letters are forged: through real conversation, daily reflection, and deep engagement with Scripture.

But it wasn’t just teaching. The Holy Spirit was active. Really active. People were being healed in unusual ways. Handkerchiefs and aprons that had touched Paul were bringing healing and freedom. There were moments that just didn’t make sense—except that God was doing something.

It was Word and Spirit. Teaching and trusting. Wrestling with Scripture and watching God work. And that’s when the city began to change.

The impact was so noticeable that others started trying to copy him. A group of travelling Jewish exorcists tried to use Jesus’ name like a magic spell: “In the name of Jesus whom Paul preaches, come out!” But it didn’t end well. The spirit replied, “I know Jesus, and I know Paul—but who are you?” And the men were beaten and left bleeding.

Because here’s the truth: God is not a power for you to control. You don’t get to use Jesus for your own agenda. That temptation is always there. I’ve felt it—trying to say the right prayer, find the right words, do the right ritual to get God to act. But faith isn’t manipulation. God is not a technique. He’s not your formula. He’s God.

And yet, even that backfired in a holy way. People heard about what happened and were cut to the heart. Many confessed their past and brought out their sorcery scrolls to burn them. The total value? Fifty thousand drachmas. A drachma was one day’s wage. In today’s terms, that’s a bonfire worth $10 million.

That’s what repentance looks like. When we really meet Jesus, we stop playing games. We don’t just tweak our lives. We put everything on the fire. Our strategies, our assets, our plans for power—they all go up in smoke. And we start trusting His power instead of our own.

But that’s also when the battle begins.

A silversmith named Demetrius—who made a good living selling little Artemis shrines—realised that if people kept following Jesus, they’d stop buying his souvenirs. So he stirred up a crowd. But notice his argument. It wasn’t about theology. It was about money: “You know that our wealth comes from this business.”

That’s the same argument used by the pokies lobby. It’s the same argument that resisted the abolition of slavery. If you follow the money, you’ll often find the idol. And if money sets the agenda, God doesn’t.

But it wasn’t just money. Demetrius also appealed to power: “We can’t let the temple lose its influence.” It’s about the status quo—the whole system that made Ephesus rich and respected. Jesus threatened all of it.

And He still does.

The gospel always confronts any system built on money and power. That’s why people riot. That’s why the forces of darkness kick back. Because when Jesus is truly followed, the status quo gets shaken. And those who benefit most from it are the ones most afraid to lose it.

What I love is how God uses the opposition. It’s like judo. In judo, you use the other person’s strength against them. That’s what God does here. When Paul’s kicked out of the synagogue, the gospel moves into the university. And it spreads further and deeper.

But don’t be naïve. There will be pushback. You don’t change the world without resistance. And sometimes, like Paul, you have to know when to move on.

Before he leaves, Paul gathers the elders of the Ephesian church. It’s emotional. He knows they’ll never see him again. He reminds them of his life. He says, “I’ve served with humility and tears. I never shrank back from telling you what you needed to hear.” And he repeats the core message: “Turn from sin, turn to God, and put your trust in Jesus.”

That’s the message for everyone—Jews and Greeks, rich and poor. And it’s not about programs or answers. It’s about repentance: a new way of seeing. It’s about replacing self-trust with faith in Jesus. Our world says, “Be true to yourself.” Paul says, “Don’t you dare. Repent of yourself. Turn to Jesus. That’s where life is found.”

Paul also says something deeply confronting: “The Holy Spirit tells me that jail and suffering lie ahead.” Would you keep going if you knew suffering was next? Many of our brothers and sisters around the world do. That’s the reality for faithful Christians in many countries.

And maybe one reason our churches get stuck is because we aren’t fully open to the Holy Spirit. Maybe we’ve gotten used to what’s comfortable, what’s manageable. But Paul says, “My life is worth nothing to me unless I use it for finishing the work Jesus gave me—the work of telling others the good news of God’s grace.”

Can you say that?

That’s how the world changes. Not through clever plans. Not through control. Through people whose lives have been transformed by grace—people who can’t help telling others.

Before saying goodbye, Paul gives two final warnings.

First: watch out for false teachers. Not just outsiders. Insiders. People who want attention, who draw others to themselves instead of pointing to Jesus. That’s how you know it’s false: it’s all about them.

Second: watch your money. Paul says, “I’ve never coveted silver or gold. I worked with my own hands. I gave instead of taking. Remember: it’s more blessed to give than receive.”

I know how easy it is to drift. I’ve had to stop and reassess our tithing because the automatic systems made us lazy. It’s so easy to let your finances run your life without thinking. But we’re called to submit everything—even our money—to Jesus. That’s how we keep our hearts free.

At the end, they all cry and hug. It’s beautiful. They’re grieving, not because something’s gone wrong, but because they loved well. And that’s the mark of faithful community.

We won’t be here forever. Ecclesiastes says, “Wisdom is found in the house of mourning.” The more we remember our days are numbered, the more seriously we live. And our world gives us endless ways to waste our time. But we don’t have forever. Each day is a gift. Don’t waste it.

Here at Citywide, we’ll face challenges. If we’re faithful, we’ll see fruit. But we’ll also face resistance. Each one of us will be tempted to reach for power, for control, for comfort. But let’s be a church that keeps reminding each other: It’s not about us. It’s about Jesus.

That’s where life is found.

That’s how the world changes.