There’s a fascinating, encouraging, and downright hilarious biblical pattern that every Christian needs to get tattooed on his brain: God always gets the last laugh.

It doesn't matter how powerful the politician, how vicious the tyrant, how corrupt the government, or how hellbent the enemies of Christ become. God wins. The devil loses. In time and eternity.

That truth is stamped all over the Book of Acts, and chapter 12 provides one of the most epic examples of this divine reality. It involves a murderous politician, a persecuted church, a miraculous prison break, a crowd of bootlickers, and an unexpected army of worms.

Yep. Worms.

You can't make this stuff up.

At the beginning of Acts 12, things aren't looking particularly peachy for the early church. King Herod Agrippa I is having a grand old time terrorizing Christians. He's already executed James, the brother of John, and now he's thrown Peter into prison.

From a purely human perspective, Herod and his religious accomplices appear to be winning. The church is under assault, its leaders are being imprisoned or murdered, and the political machinery of Rome is being used to crush Christianity.

Sound familiar?

Christians today often behave as though the latest political catastrophe, cultural meltdown, or government overreach means God has somehow lost control of His universe.

Some believers are so obsessed with powerful politicians that they'll spend thousands of dollars just to get near them, shake their hands, or secure a photograph. I've been around plenty of influential political figures over the years, often at their invitation, and I can tell you I'm glad I never paid a dime for the privilege.

Why? Because political power has a nasty habit of attracting self-aggrandizement, greed, sexual scandal, and enough moral compromise to make a Vegas stripper blush.

There's a particularly biting saying sometimes attributed to Thomas Jefferson, although there's no reliable evidence he actually said it: "If you want to be a politician, you must first sell your soul to the devil."

Now, that's not true of every politician, but it certainly describes a stack of them.

And here's something that ought to disturb the church: Christians can become so enamored with political influence that they overlook glaring character defects in the very leaders they celebrate. They'll excuse behavior in their political heroes that they'd condemn in their neighbors.

That's a dangerous game, folks.

Political leaders can intimidate us or dazzle us, but neither reaction should cause Christians to forget who's actually running the universe.

Which brings us back to Herod.

Herod Agrippa I was no insignificant political hack. He was the Roman-backed king who ruled Judea, Samaria, Galilee, and surrounding territories from AD 41 to 44.

He was the grandson of Herod the Great and enjoyed tremendous political influence under Emperor Claudius. He commanded military forces, controlled important economic resources, and exercised substantial authority over Jewish political and religious affairs.

In other words, Herod was a big deal.

He had the throne, the troops, the treasury, and the political connections. What he didn't have was the fear of God.

And that little omission was about to become a very big problem.

After Peter's miraculous escape from prison, Herod was furious. Acts 12:18–19 tells us there was considerable confusion among the soldiers when Peter disappeared. Herod searched for him, interrogated the guards, and ordered their execution.

Think about that.

Herod had chains, soldiers, prisons, and the full weight of Roman-backed political authority. Peter had God.

Guess who won?

Peter walked out of prison, and Herod was left looking like a fool. His supposed control over the church had been exposed as an illusion.

Here's the first major lesson from this passage: No earthly ruler can successfully thwart the sovereign purposes of Almighty God.

None.

Ever.

Sure, wicked leaders can inflict terrible suffering. James had been executed, after all. God's sovereignty doesn't mean Christians never suffer or die. It means their suffering cannot overthrow His ultimate purposes.

Herod's persecution looked unstoppable, but like milk and guacamole left sitting in the Texas sun, his evil enterprise wasn't going to age well.

Why?

Because there's a holy, all-seeing, sovereign God with whom every ruler must eventually contend.

Acts 12:20–22 introduces us to Herod's final public performance.

Herod was furious with the people of Tyre and Sidon. Because their regions depended upon his territory for food, representatives came seeking peace. After gaining the favor of Blastus, the king's chamberlain, they secured an audience.

On the appointed day, Herod dressed in his royal apparel, sat upon his throne, and delivered an address.

The crowd erupted in praise, shouting, "The voice of a god and not of a man!"

And Herod apparently loved every second of it.

He didn't rebuke their blasphemous flattery. He didn't redirect their praise toward the living God. He soaked it up like a politician at a fundraiser surrounded by wealthy donors.

Here's a fridge-magnet-worthy truth: A man intoxicated with his own importance will eventually believe the nonsense his bootlickers tell him.

Proverbs 16:18 warns, "Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before stumbling."

Herod had reached the point where political power had metastasized into personal deification. He wasn't content to be king. He was willing to be treated as a god.

And that's when he crossed heaven's point of no return.

But before we examine Herod's gruesome exit, understand that God has a long history of sawing arrogant rulers off at the knees.

And yes, that includes Republicans and Democrats.

God isn't registered with either political party, and heaven doesn't tremble when a politician threatens His people.

Herod wasn't the first political heavyweight to discover that defying God is a catastrophically stupid career move.

Consider Pharaoh, the arrogant ruler of Egypt.

When Moses demanded that Pharaoh release God's people, Pharaoh responded, "Who is the Lord that I should obey His voice?" (Exodus 5:2).

That's quite a question to ask the Creator of the universe.

Despite devastating plagues, Pharaoh repeatedly hardened his heart and refused to release Israel. His defiance culminated in the destruction of Egypt's pursuing military forces in the Red Sea (Exodus 14).

Lesson? When a ruler declares war on God's authority, he's picking a fight he cannot win.

Then there's King Sennacherib of Assyria.

Sennacherib arrogantly mocked the God of Israel and boasted that Jerusalem would fall just like the other nations he had conquered. He treated Israel's God as though He were another powerless tribal deity.

Bad move, Bubba.

According to 2 Kings 19:35–37, God sent an angel who struck down 185,000 Assyrian soldiers in one night. Sennacherib retreated to Nineveh, where his own sons later assassinated him.

Mocking God might impress your troops, but it won't intimidate heaven.

Next up is King Belshazzar.

Daniel 5 describes Belshazzar throwing a drunken feast, desecrating sacred vessels taken from God's temple, and praising false gods. Daniel confronted him for refusing to humble himself despite knowing what had happened to Nebuchadnezzar.

That very night, Belshazzar's kingdom fell, and he was killed.

Imagine spending the evening mocking God and discovering before sunrise that your kingdom, your power, and your life are finished.

And then there's Jezebel.

Jezebel was the Hillary Clinton of the ancient world in terms of the political comparison I'm making: a formidable, controlling political figure who, in the biblical account, wielded power against God's servants. Jezebel's particular record also included promoting idolatry, persecuting prophets, and arranging the murder of an innocent man.

For a season, Jezebel appeared untouchable. She had political power, royal privilege, and the ability to make righteous people miserable.

Then came Jehu.

According to 2 Kings 9:30–37, Jehu ordered Jezebel's own eunuchs to throw her from an upper-story window. She plunged to the ground, her blood splattered against the wall, and horses trampled her. Later, dogs devoured her body, leaving only her skull, feet, and palms of her hands.

Her gruesome death fulfilled Elijah's prophecy of judgment against her wickedness.

The common denominator in these accounts isn't complicated. Pharaoh defied God. Sennacherib mocked Him. Belshazzar dishonored Him. Jezebel persecuted His servants.

All four discovered that earthly thrones offer absolutely no protection against divine judgment.

Or, as the youngsters say, FAFO.

Fool around and find out.

Now we arrive at one of the most spectacular displays of divine poetic justice in the New Testament.

Acts 12:23 states:

Let that sink in.

One moment, Herod was sitting on his royal throne, dressed in magnificent clothing, soaking up the applause of the masses.

The next, he was under divine judgment.

His royal robes couldn't protect him. His soldiers couldn't rescue him. His political connections couldn't save him.

God didn't dispatch a rival army to defeat him. He didn't organize a political rebellion or orchestrate an election.

He struck Herod, and worms became part of the king's final humiliation.

Herod went from enjoying five-star state dinners to becoming dinner himself.

Tell me that ain't poetic justice.

Herod was struck because he refused to give God the glory.

Isaiah 42:8 declares, "I am the LORD, that is My name; I will not give My glory to another."

Apparently, Herod didn't get that memo.

Here's the delicious irony of Acts 12.

Herod murdered James, imprisoned Peter, and attempted to intimidate the early church into submission.

But by the end of the chapter, Herod was dead and the church was advancing.

The persecutor perished. The persecuted prevailed.

The man who tried to silence the church was himself silenced.

In closing, as Jerry Springer used to say, "What did we learn today?"

Well, we learned that Herod strutted onto the stage dressed like a deity and exited history as a dead man.

We learned that political power without the fear of God is a dangerous and ultimately pathetic thing.

We learned that the applause of men should never be confused with the approval of heaven.

We learned that God can deliver His servants from seemingly impossible circumstances, and that even when His servants suffer or die, His purposes cannot be defeated.

We learned that religious hypocrites and arrogant politicians alike must answer to the same holy God.

And, perhaps most importantly, we learned that the church of Jesus Christ will outlast every earthly power that attempts to destroy it.

Peter walked out of prison. Herod went into the grave. And the Word of God kept spreading.

So, here's my closing advice.

If you're on FanDuel, Polymarket, or any other betting app, never, and I mean NEVER, bet against the church Jesus Christ promised to build.

The odds are eternally stacked against you.

Herod had his moment.

God has eternity.

And God always gets the last laugh.

Clash Ministries is here to do two things, namely, put brains and cojones on Christians. Yep, our holy job is renewing minds (Rom. 12:1-2) and emboldening hearts (Prov. 28:1). Your generosity helps us throttle the enemy by equipping God's people to live bold, wild and free in Him. You are a vital part of this ministry and we could not do this without you. Thank you for your faithful gifts and partnership and remember to always ... stay rowdy!

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Doug Giles is Pastor of Liberty Fellowship in Wimberley, TX, and is the founder of ClashDaily.com​

Follow Doug on Instagram and Twitter @TheArtOfDoug.