"After he saw that it pleased the Jews, he proceeded to arrest Peter also. This was during the festival of unleavened bread. When he had seized him, he put him in prison and handed him over to four squads of soldiers to guard him, intending to bring him out to the people after the Passover." Herod's evil intentions were obvious: Peter was in prison to stay, and would not leave until he was carried out to die.

Now, in my study at this point, I could feel the sermon coming together on the matter of prison. There are all kinds of prisons other than physical. There are the prisons we are in that are obvious to others. There are the prisons only we know about. There are the prisons we don't fully know, or refuse to admit even to ourselves.

What's your prison? Is it the solitary confinement of performance? Driving yourself for the attention and approval of others? The never-ending struggle of doing "hard time" in the prison of performance? Or is it the Sing-Sing of the past—the negative past—filled with the ominous shadows of yesterday's rejection, failure, ridicule, abuse?

What's your prison? Can it be the San Quentin of people's predictions about you: your future, your potential? Or is your prison the Alcatraz of peer-worship instead of God-worship, locked in the idolatry of the group? We all have our prisons.

What's your prison? Is it your grief over the loss of a loved one? Is it the solitary confinement of your guilt over secret or unforgiven sin? Are you a prisoner of your passions and appetite: for sex, alcohol, drugs?

He was a successful writer for television, earning sixty-five hundred dollars a week. A downward spiral plunged him into drug abuse. One day, he took his baby daughter on a run to buy heroin in the city's crime-ridden area. On the way home, he was stopped by the police for speeding. The officer spotted the baby in the back and a hypodermic syringe on the front seat. He stared in the eyes of the man and said, "I'm not going to take you in, because wherever you are now is worse than anywhere we can put you." What's your prison?

The compelling fact is, it doesn't matter what your prison is: God opens prison doors. For this passage is about more than prison. It's also about God's power, for whatever the prison, God is able to deliver. He is the God who opens prison doors. There were four relays of at least four soldiers each surrounding Peter—one on each side, and two at the cell door around the clock. There was clearly no way of escape. But in verse six: "The very night before Herod was going to bring him out, Peter, bound with two chains, was sleeping between two soldiers, while guards in front of the door were keeping watch over the prison. Suddenly, an angel of the Lord appeared and a light shone in the cell. He tapped Peter on the side and woke him saying, 'Get up, quickly!' and the chains fell off his wrists." In obedience to the angel's command, Peter put on his cloak and sandals and followed the angel through the prison gates into the street. "Then Peter came to himself and said, 'Now I am sure that the Lord has sent his angel and rescued me from the hands of Herod and from all that the Jewish people were expecting.'"

The powerful truth is: God—the God of the Bible—is a master at opening prison doors. So this is not just about prison, but also about power. God's marvelous, matchless, magnificent power. But it's about more than that. We tend to zip through this story and rush to the dramatic, astounding, incredible, miraculous part. But before we rush from the pain of prison, to rejoice in the comfort of God's power, we need to struggle with the challenge of God's providence. And there is a challenge here. While the chapter seems ended, there is a question, a concern that remains. Back in verse two: He, Herod, had James the brother of John killed with a sword. Like Peter, James was prayed for. Unlike Peter, James was not delivered: He was beheaded. How do we get a handle on this?

When you consider the experience of Peter and James, both disciples, was God's power only manifested for Peter and James just fell between the cracks? Consider, one young person is miraculously delivered from an auto accident while another is not. A loved one dies, while another is delivered. How do we get a handle on this? It seems to me, God's power is directed by his providence, manifested according to his providence.

Now, sometimes discouragement over what we perceive as unanswered prayer in the past wilts our willingness to pray boldly. We assume that there was no answer because what happened was not what we wanted. We get caught judging God on the basis of what we thought He should do, or what He should have done. Well, the passage is clear. Peter was delivered. James was executed. Divine providence is not a cookie-cutter manipulated by our prayers.

I get weary and wary of TV Gospel con men who have all of the doing and dealing of providence catalogued, correlated and figured out and can give cute, glib little sound-bite answers to your heartache without realizing that God does not move on our timetable and some of his operations don't add up on man-made calculators. Maybe the little boy who didn't understand why God put so many vitamins in spinach and didn't put more of them in ice cream, had a revelation that things don't always fit together the way you think. Doors are not always opened on our time schedule. God delivers and opens doors He determines need opening. That brings us to the point of trusting God's providence.

True faith is not blind to the realities of a situation, or to the fact that God works out his purposes in the way He chooses, not always in the way we would choose. True faith is not in deliverance, it's in our God! So, like the Hebrew boys, yes, He can deliver, but if not, true faith is confident of his power and true faith trusts his providence. If deliverance does not come, we will not bow down. That kind of faith means trusting God and His Word. It is a trusting willingness to follow Him, whatever the path of his providence.

Now, let's go back to that massive, rock-hewn cell, with its bars, bolts and Roman guards. Understand, that night Peter knew God was able to deliver. Peter knew the church was praying for him as they had for James and he knew what happened to James. You talk about trusting God's providence. He laid down and went to sleep!

In one of my favorite pictures, I'm holding my granddaughter Marcia a few months after her birth, serenely asleep in the arms of her grandfather. So, Peter, in that prison cell, what a picture of trust and serenity! Sleep so sound, so sweet, the angel had difficulty waking him up. The peace that passes all understanding comes not of trust in God's power, but trust in God's providence. The painful truth is, perhaps if it had been you or me, the soldiers would not have gotten a wink of sleep. Chains would have been rattling all night long since we grown up children, just like little children, have night terrors. We need to be reminded God works the night shift.

If he delivers us, we will praise Him and continue to trust. If he doesn't deliver us, we will praise Him and continue to trust Him. I believe when it's the prison of spiritual enslavement, God's providence exercises God's power without delay, but other than that, we have to face the reality of divine timing or decision. And when we settle the trusting of God's providence, then we are prepared to celebrate God's power manifested in the way His providence determines best.

It was an electric moment—a church worship service. As the Voices of Zion and the soloist sang, "He keeps right on blessing me," the selection was moving, but the impact heightened when I realized the person singing with all his soul was blind. "He keeps right on blessing me." Trust in God means there is no experience that should prevent us from seeing, "He keeps right on blessing me."

Father, we trust thy power, and we trust thy providence. Amen.

Lydia Talbot: Dr. Reaves, in your earlier message you asked us to reflect on the prisons in our lives. I must ask you how you respond to the question you pose, "What was the prison or is the prison in your own life?"

Benjamin Reaves: I have found that I had to struggle with the dungeon of time and obsession with time, trying to feel as if I needed to be productive in some way at every moment. And freedom, for me, is to realize that I can take time to enjoy life and live.

Talbot: And your new responsibility as General Secretary for the Seventh Day Adventist Church, tell us in a moment, what is that task all about?

Reaves:  That focus is enhancing, and nourishing, and nurturing a climate of intentionality about leadership, growth, and development. It's aimed at church administrators and helping to develop them so that they can help to develop others.

Talbot: What inspired you to achieve that in terms of your own leadership as an academic college president?

Reaves:  It seems as if my career path has been leading me that way, and so out of the years that I've spent in administration and in leadership, I have something perhaps now to offer others.

Talbot: Thank you for sharing that with us and passing it on. Dr. Reaves, it's a joy to have you back.