Thursday of the Fourth Week of Easter
Acts 13:13–25
Paul stands up and begins to speak.
But he does not begin with himself. He does not even begin with Jesus.
He begins far back—
with the ancestors, with the people chosen by God, with Egypt, with the desert, with the long road, with judges, with kings, with David.
Why?
Because Jesus does not appear as an isolated figure, dropped suddenly from heaven into a random world.
He comes at the end of a long history.
A history of God leading, God carrying, God correcting, God promising, God saving.
And then Paul says it:
From David’s line God has brought to Israel a Saviour, Jesus.
A Saviour.
For Paul, that word was not small.
As a Jew, he would have heard in it the echo of the Exodus.
The God who sees the misery of His people. The God who hears their cry. The God who comes down to rescue. The God who brings slaves out of bondage into freedom.
Perhaps also the old hope of the redeemer— the one who steps in when others cannot, the one who rescues what would otherwise be lost.
So when Paul calls Jesus the Saviour, he is saying something immense:
the God who once saved Israel is acting again.
The God of the Exodus has not fallen silent.
He has brought His saving work to its fulfillment in Jesus.
But Paul is not speaking in a vacuum.
He is speaking in the Roman world.
And in that world too there was already a “saviour.”
Caesar.
The emperor was praised as the one who brought peace, order, protection, prosperity, stability.
Rome had its gospel. Rome had its propaganda. Rome had its promises.
And Paul stands there and says, in effect:
the true Saviour is not Caesar.
It is Jesus.
Not the ruler who secures the world by force, but the one who gives His life.
Not the one who demands submission, but the one who calls and gathers.
Not the one who builds peace on fear and domination, but the one who brings peace through mercy, truth, forgiveness, and the cross.
That is why this word mattered.
And that is why the first Christians paid for it.
To call Jesus “Saviour” was not a private religious feeling.
It was a confession. A choice. A refusal to give ultimate trust to empire.
And what about us?
We may not call Caesar “saviour.” But we still look for saviours.
A strong leader. Money. Technology. The market. Success. Security. Control. Endless distraction. The promise that one more thing, one more system, one more purchase, one more victory will finally rescue us.
And still the old question remains:
Who really saves?
Paul’s answer is clear.
Not the empire. Not the idol. Not the power that dazzles.
Jesus.
The long history of Israel leads to Him. The cry of the oppressed leads to Him. The deep hunger of the human heart leads to Him.
Every age has its rival saviours.
But the Church continues to speak another name.
Not Caesar.
Jesus.
Scripture Attribution
New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993
the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of
Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
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