Paul I Recognize.. but Who are You?
In my devotional reading this morning, Acts 19:15 stopped me in my tracks: “But the evil spirit answered them, ‘Jesus I know, and Paul I recognize, but who are you?’” This single verse, spoken by a demon through a possessed man, exposes a profound and sobering truth about what it really means to know Jesus.
The story unfolds in Ephesus, where God is doing extraordinary miracles through Paul (Acts 19:11-12). Seeing this power, seven sons of Sceva, itinerant Jewish exorcists, try to mimic it. They invoke “the Jesus whom Paul preaches” over a demon-possessed man, treating Jesus’ name like a formula for spiritual leverage. But the evil spirit turns on them: “Jesus I know, and Paul I recognize, but who are you?” Then the man overpowers them, sending them fleeing naked and wounded (vv. 15-16).
Here’s the stark contrast: demons have factual, intellectual knowledge of Jesus—they acknowledge His identity, authority, and power. As James 2:19 reminds us, even demons believe in God and shudder. They know Jesus in the sense of recognizing who He is. Yet this knowledge produces no love, no surrender, no transformation. They cannot treasure Him, experience His redeeming love, or live to make Him known. Their knowing is cold, rebellious acknowledgment—never relational intimacy.
But according to the demons’ own testimony, Paul, by contrast, is recognized in the spiritual realm as someone who truly knows Jesus—and thus has power by His authority. The demon doesn’t just know Paul’s name, it knows his life is so aligned with and indwelt by Christ that his very presence carries divine authority. Paul embodied what he wrote in Philippians 3:7-10, counting everything as loss for the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus his Lord, pressing on to know Him—the power of His resurrection, the fellowship of His sufferings. For Paul, Jesus was the ultimate reason for existence, the treasure above all, the light that reshaped every desire, joy, and sorrow. He could declare, “For me to live is Christ” (Philippians 1:21).
The sons of Sceva fall somewhere in between—and it’s a dangerous place. They knew about Jesus (and Paul), but they didn’t know Him personally. They treated His name like a magical incantation or borrowed power—detached from surrender, love, or life change. They wanted something from Jesus without seeking Him for Himself. The evil spirit’s taunt exposes them as outsiders: they invoke the name without union to the Person. They lack the intimacy Paul had, where Christ is the very center, the reason that reorients everything.
This lines up beautifully with what I recently heard in a sermon by Tim Keller (from his Advent series on John 1, “The Word”). Keller explains why Jesus is called the Logos—the Word. In Greek philosophy, the logos was the underlying rational principle, the reason something exists, the blueprint for harmony in the universe. Philosophers believed that by discerning this logos through reason and contemplation, you could align with it and live well. But it was abstract, impersonal, elite—accessible mainly through intellectual mastery.
John revolutionizes this by explaining that the true Logos is not a proposition or principle—it’s a person, Jesus Christ, who was with God, was God, and became flesh (John 1:1, 14). He came to His own because He made us for Himself. Aligning with our deepest purpose isn’t grasping an idea; it’s knowing and loving Him personally. As Keller put it, if the meaning of life is a philosophical proposition, only the educated elite can access it, and life reduces to knowledge. But if it’s Jesus, the real meaning of life is love and anyone can know this love. Jesus becomes the reason we get up, live, and exist because He came for us in love, so we live for Him in reciprocal love.
The evil spirit’s words not only reveal the demons’ own limits—they expose the sons of Sceva’s failure too. Like the Greeks chasing an impersonal logos, or modern people using Jesus for benefits without devotion, the sons wanted power without relationship. They missed that true knowing is transformative intimacy, treasuring Christ as supreme, experiencing His redeeming love, and letting Him be the reason for living.
This is a warning and an invitation. Knowing about Jesus isn’t enough—demons do that. Even religious activity without heart surrender can leave us spiritually exposed. But the same grace that made Paul recognizable in the spiritual realm—that turned a persecutor into a lover of Christ, aligning him fully with the true Logos—is available to us today. Let’s not be like the sons of Sceva—treating Jesus’ name like a PIN for an ATM machine, seeking something from Him but never seeking Him for Himself, aligning our lives with His, or embracing His reason for taking on flesh to draw us into loving union with God.
May we press on to know Him deeply, personally, supremely. For in knowing Christ this way, we find our true reason for existence—and become people the spiritual realm recognizes because His light shines through us.
The story unfolds in Ephesus, where God is doing extraordinary miracles through Paul (Acts 19:11-12). Seeing this power, seven sons of Sceva, itinerant Jewish exorcists, try to mimic it. They invoke “the Jesus whom Paul preaches” over a demon-possessed man, treating Jesus’ name like a formula for spiritual leverage. But the evil spirit turns on them: “Jesus I know, and Paul I recognize, but who are you?” Then the man overpowers them, sending them fleeing naked and wounded (vv. 15-16).
Here’s the stark contrast: demons have factual, intellectual knowledge of Jesus—they acknowledge His identity, authority, and power. As James 2:19 reminds us, even demons believe in God and shudder. They know Jesus in the sense of recognizing who He is. Yet this knowledge produces no love, no surrender, no transformation. They cannot treasure Him, experience His redeeming love, or live to make Him known. Their knowing is cold, rebellious acknowledgment—never relational intimacy.
But according to the demons’ own testimony, Paul, by contrast, is recognized in the spiritual realm as someone who truly knows Jesus—and thus has power by His authority. The demon doesn’t just know Paul’s name, it knows his life is so aligned with and indwelt by Christ that his very presence carries divine authority. Paul embodied what he wrote in Philippians 3:7-10, counting everything as loss for the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus his Lord, pressing on to know Him—the power of His resurrection, the fellowship of His sufferings. For Paul, Jesus was the ultimate reason for existence, the treasure above all, the light that reshaped every desire, joy, and sorrow. He could declare, “For me to live is Christ” (Philippians 1:21).
The sons of Sceva fall somewhere in between—and it’s a dangerous place. They knew about Jesus (and Paul), but they didn’t know Him personally. They treated His name like a magical incantation or borrowed power—detached from surrender, love, or life change. They wanted something from Jesus without seeking Him for Himself. The evil spirit’s taunt exposes them as outsiders: they invoke the name without union to the Person. They lack the intimacy Paul had, where Christ is the very center, the reason that reorients everything.
This lines up beautifully with what I recently heard in a sermon by Tim Keller (from his Advent series on John 1, “The Word”). Keller explains why Jesus is called the Logos—the Word. In Greek philosophy, the logos was the underlying rational principle, the reason something exists, the blueprint for harmony in the universe. Philosophers believed that by discerning this logos through reason and contemplation, you could align with it and live well. But it was abstract, impersonal, elite—accessible mainly through intellectual mastery.
John revolutionizes this by explaining that the true Logos is not a proposition or principle—it’s a person, Jesus Christ, who was with God, was God, and became flesh (John 1:1, 14). He came to His own because He made us for Himself. Aligning with our deepest purpose isn’t grasping an idea; it’s knowing and loving Him personally. As Keller put it, if the meaning of life is a philosophical proposition, only the educated elite can access it, and life reduces to knowledge. But if it’s Jesus, the real meaning of life is love and anyone can know this love. Jesus becomes the reason we get up, live, and exist because He came for us in love, so we live for Him in reciprocal love.
The evil spirit’s words not only reveal the demons’ own limits—they expose the sons of Sceva’s failure too. Like the Greeks chasing an impersonal logos, or modern people using Jesus for benefits without devotion, the sons wanted power without relationship. They missed that true knowing is transformative intimacy, treasuring Christ as supreme, experiencing His redeeming love, and letting Him be the reason for living.
This is a warning and an invitation. Knowing about Jesus isn’t enough—demons do that. Even religious activity without heart surrender can leave us spiritually exposed. But the same grace that made Paul recognizable in the spiritual realm—that turned a persecutor into a lover of Christ, aligning him fully with the true Logos—is available to us today. Let’s not be like the sons of Sceva—treating Jesus’ name like a PIN for an ATM machine, seeking something from Him but never seeking Him for Himself, aligning our lives with His, or embracing His reason for taking on flesh to draw us into loving union with God.
May we press on to know Him deeply, personally, supremely. For in knowing Christ this way, we find our true reason for existence—and become people the spiritual realm recognizes because His light shines through us.