There's something remarkable about the transition we witness in Acts 13. The narrative shifts from Peter's ministry in Jerusalem to Paul's missionary journeys—a pivot that would forever change the trajectory of Christianity. But this shift didn't happen by accident. It emerged from a church that had positioned itself to hear from God and respond in obedience.

The story begins in Antioch, a diverse congregation of prophets and teachers from various backgrounds. This wasn't a church consumed with internal politics or organizational charts. Instead, they were unified in purpose, grounded in God's Word, and attentive to the Spirit's leading. Their diversity reflected the very gospel they were about to proclaim to the world.

While the church at Antioch was worshiping and fasting, the Holy Spirit spoke: "Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them." Notice the setting. The Spirit's direction didn't come during a strategic planning session or a budget meeting. It came during worship and surrender. Before they went to the nations, they went before the Lord.

This detail matters more than we might realize. Prayer and fasting aren't religious rituals to check off a list—they're about positioning ourselves where God can move and work in our lives so He can do what only He can do. The church at Antioch felt a burden for the gospel to reach Gentiles around the world, so they fasted and prayed to discern God's will.

Consider Jesus' words in the Sermon on the Mount: "Don't collect for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal. But collect for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves don't break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

These words apply directly to how we approach church and mission. When we become obsessed with material possessions, power structures, and temporal concerns—no matter how meaningful they seem—we lose our eternal focus. A church fixated on who has authority, how many committees must approve decisions, or which bylaws protect their preferences has already begun to die spiritually.

But when a church fixes its attention on who God is rather than who has the power, the Spirit speaks and guides. The best mission strategies always begin in adoration and dependence, not in bylaws and budgets.

After the church prayed and fasted, they laid hands on Barnabas and Saul and sent them off. Luke tells us they were "sent out by the Holy Spirit." Later, when confronting opposition, Paul was "filled with the Holy Spirit." These aren't throwaway phrases—they describe a church and people completely aligned with God's direction.

The Spirit wasn't just an idea discussed in meetings; the Spirit was the driving force behind their movement and message. The church at Antioch prayed, fasted, listened, and obeyed—and because of that, the gospel reached new ground and darkness was pushed back.

Contrast this with churches today that are busy but not necessarily Spirit-led. They hold meetings, make plans, and protect traditions, but rarely stop to ask, "Is this what the Spirit is sending us to do?" A church that moves without the Spirit's guidance may look active, but it's spiritually stalled. It becomes consumed with preserving comfort rather than pursuing the mission.

Think of it like a sailboat. The wind is blowing, the Spirit is moving, but the church stays tied to the dock, arguing about who gets to steer. Meanwhile, a Spirit-filled church unhooks from the shore, lifts its sails, and lets God carry it wherever He wills. One moves under its own power and eventually drifts; the other moves under divine power and reaches the places only God can take it.

The difference between a dying church and a living one is whether the Holy Spirit is simply mentioned or truly moving.

When Barnabas and Saul reached Cyprus, they encountered a magician named Bar-Jesus (also called Elymas)—a man whose name ironically meant "son of Jesus." He was an imitator attempting to compete with Jesus Christ, but Paul identified him as a "son of the devil."

This magician was advising the proconsul, a Roman governor named Sergius Paulus. When the proconsul summoned Barnabas and Saul to hear the word of God, Elymas opposed them, trying to turn the governor away from faith. But Paul, filled with the Holy Spirit, confronted the spiritual darkness directly.

Paul's confrontation wasn't rooted in his own courage but in Spirit-given power. He pronounced temporary blindness on Elymas, and immediately the judgment fell. The result? The proconsul believed when he saw what had occurred. He was astonished at the teaching of the Lord.

This pattern still holds true today. In February 2023, something unexpected happened at Asbury University in Kentucky. A small chapel service ended as usual, but a few students stayed to keep praying and worshiping. Hours turned into days. Word spread, and thousands of people from across the country showed up—not because of marketing or celebrity leadership, but because they saw something genuine happening.

There were no lights, no famous preachers, no hype. Just confession, repentance, forgiveness, and worship that was unmistakably Spirit-led. Local pastors reported that people who had walked away from church for years began returning. Reconciliation occurred, addictions were confessed, and the gospel was preached through testimony more than through microphones.

Whether someone called it a revival or a renewal, one thing was clear: when people saw what God was doing in the lives of others—simple, humble, Spirit-filled transformation—it stirred faith. Many who came as skeptics left changed, not because of arguments, but because they witnessed living proof of God's presence.

Just like the proconsul who saw what had occurred and believed, the watching world still believes when it sees undeniable evidence of God at work. The most convincing sermon the church can preach today is a transformed life on display.

If the world is going to see what God has done, we cannot afford to spend our days majoring on the minors. The early church in Antioch didn't waste energy protecting preferences or chasing comfort—they listened, they obeyed, and they went. The Spirit said "Go," and they went. The result was light breaking through darkness, truth exposing deception, and faith replacing unbelief.

The same Spirit who sent Barnabas and Saul is still sending His church today. But He doesn't send spectators. He sends servants—those willing to trade their agenda for His mission.

When Christians obey the Spirit's call to go, the light of Christ overcomes the darkness of deception, opposition, and unbelief. When the church stops debating where the light should shine and simply starts shining it, the darkness doesn't stand a chance.