Then They Left
Inspired by Bible Study at the Vine Church, Pinoso on Thursday 16th October, 2025, while studying the book of Acts with Beryl, Shelley, Margaret, Joyce, Diane and Sarah. A great time of fellowship and we had some amazing insights, many of which will be shared over the coming days or weeks as the Holy Spirit leads.
From Acts 16:40 — “After Paul and Silas came out of the prison, they went to Lydia’s house, where they met with the brothers and encouraged them. Then they left.”
There’s a small line at the end of Acts 16 that most people might skim past without much thought: “Then they left.”
Just three words. But they stirred something deep in me.
Paul and his companions had just been through one of the most remarkable, painful, and world-changing chapters of their ministry. Before they even reached Philippi, the Holy Spirit had stopped them, not once, but twice, from going where they thought they should go. “They were forbidden by the Holy Spirit to preach the word in Asia,” the Bible says. And again, “the Spirit of Jesus would not allow them to enter Bithynia.”
Imagine that. Paul, the same man who longed to bring the gospel to the ends of the earth, was being stopped by the very Spirit who called him. We would have called that a setback. Maybe even failure. But heaven called it direction.
Because when God says no, it’s never punishment, it’s protection. It’s redirection. Every closed door is a sign that He’s guiding us somewhere better, even if it hurts to hear the latch click shut.
Then came the vision: a man from Macedonia, pleading, “Come over and help us.” So Paul went.
And what waited for him there? Trouble. Beatings. Prison. But also Lydia, the first European convert. A jailer whose heart was transformed. And the birth of the Philippian church, which would go on to support Paul’s ministry and inspire one of the most beloved letters in the New Testament.
None of that would have happened if Paul had ignored the “no” and forced his way into Asia.
And after all of that, after the wounds, the worship at midnight, the conversions, the baptisms, the birth of a new church, the Scripture simply says, “Then they left.”
They didn’t leave because they were frustrated or burnt out. They left because the work was finished. The assignment was complete.
That’s what it means to live led by the Spirit: you stay until God says move. You serve faithfully where you are, even if it’s hard. You sing through the pain. You wait when you’d rather run. And when the season is done, when the work is complete, God Himself will say over your life, “Then they left.”
That phrase isn’t an ending; it’s a benediction. It means the job was done, the seed was planted, the gospel was preached, the purpose fulfilled.
So, if you’re in a season where doors have closed, or your plans have been interrupted, take heart. God may not be punishing you; He’s preparing you. The Spirit who said no to Asia might just be leading you to your own Macedonia, to the place where His greater “yes” will unfold.
And when it’s done, when His work in that place, that relationship, that calling is complete, you’ll know. You’ll look back, maybe with tears in your eyes and peace in your heart, and you’ll be able to say the same thing Scripture said of Paul and Silas: Then they left.
Not in defeat, but in victory.
Not in confusion, but in confidence.
Not because they were finished with the work, but because the work was finished in them.
Then They Left
(Poem Inspired by Acts 16–17)
The road to Asia was golden,
but Heaven barred the gate.
No storm, no sword,
just silence that said,
“Not this way.”
And how cruel that silence felt,
when the heart was ready,
and the map was clear,
and the Spirit whispered only,
“No.”
Yet what they called delay,
God called design.
Because the path that wounds the feet
still leads to holy ground.
So they turned,
not in failure,
but in faith.
And there,
in the shadow of Macedonia,
they found the song behind the pain.
Chains for a night,
but worship that split the dark.
Blood on their backs,
but grace on their lips.
And in that midnight chorus
Heaven broke its own silence,
and the earth trembled in agreement.
A jailer woke,
and a city stirred,
and somewhere in eternity
a flame began to spread
toward Europe,
toward us.
And when it was done,
when the hearts had opened,
and the tears had turned to testimony,
Scripture said nothing grand,
no thunder, no farewell,
only this:
Then they left.
No trumpet to announce it,
no monument to mark it.
Just quiet obedience,
walking away from a finished work.
Maybe that’s all God asks of us,
to stay until the song is sung,
to plant until the rain comes,
to build until the voice within says,
“Now go.”
And when it’s time,
we won’t need to be told twice.
We’ll rise from the dust,
shake off the ache,
and walk into the next silence,
knowing this one thing:
The Spirit who said “no“
was never denying us.
He was defining us.
And when our season ends,
He’ll write it over our obedience
with the same quiet grace:
Then they left.
Not because they were done,
but because God was.
Copyright © 2025, JiL & Adam Bar I Am