Bored to Death

Acts 20:7-12
5.31.26
Matt Goodale

For those who grew up watching Monty Python, you probably know the phrase: “And now for something completely different.”

That line showed up whenever the show jumped from one bizarre sketch to another. And honestly, it feels like the perfect introduction to today’s story from Acts.

Because Luke suddenly interrupts Paul’s missionary journeys to tell us this strange little story about a young man falling asleep during a sermon, tumbling out of a third-story window, dying… and then being brought back to life.

It’s such an odd story that most people assume it must just be comic relief.

And honestly, at first glance, it kind of is.

Paul is preaching late into the night. The room is warm. Oil lamps flicker against the walls. The sermon stretches past midnight. And there’s a young man named Eutychus sitting in the window trying desperately to stay awake.

Eventually sleep wins.

Eutychus’ eyes get heavy.
His head starts to nod—like many of yours during my sermons.
And suddenly he falls from the third story to his death.

At first glance, this story might appear to be a warning against the dangers of falling asleep in church. Because let’s be honest: who hasn’t tried to get catch up on some sleep during a boring sermon in church?

I recently came across a clever church sign that read:

“Have trouble sleeping? We have sermons. Come hear one! Services at 11am.”

There’s a reason why in the old days church pews were intentionally made not to be too comfortable. Not like these comfortable pillow cushion pews we have. And actually during the colonial era of church, there were men who would wander the pew aisles during worship with long sticks to whack you if you were nodding off during the service. I’m not even kidding.

But, now, if this story were really about the dangers of falling asleep in church, you would expect Paul to revive him and say, “Well, maybe next time pay attention.”

But he doesn’t.

There’s no rebuke or shaming or lecturing the young man. Paul simply gathers him up and says:
“Do not be alarmed, for life is still in him.”

And I think that clue tells us this story is about something much deeper than physical sleep.

Because scripture often uses sleep as a metaphor.

Jesus tells his disciples to stay awake. Paul, encouraging people to be spiritually alive writes, “Wake from your sleep.” In the Old Testament falling sleep is a euphemism for dying. Again and again, sleep becomes an image for spiritual numbness — for drifting through life disconnected from God, disconnected from ourselves, disconnected from the people around us.

And honestly, that kind of sleep is easy to fall into.

We are lulled to sleep by a life that becomes routine. We wake up. Eat. Go to work. Run errands, pay bills, scroll your phone. Eat. Watch another show. Go to bed. Repeat.

Those things aren’t bad—many of them are necessary and good. But over time life can become something we merely survive, instead of something we inhabit.

We stop paying attention; we stop noticing beauty. We stop being fully present to the people we love. And we stop asking why we’re doing what we’re doing. We become spiritually sleepy.

Shortly after Meghan and I got married, she discovered that when I’m really stressed, I sleepwalk.

One night she woke up and found me standing in the corner of our bedroom holding the bed sheet up toward the ceiling.

She asked, “Matt… what are you doing?”

And apparently I answered:
“I’m lighting the Olympic torch.”

Another time I jumped out of bed because I thought there was a giant snake in the room.

The strange thing about sleepwalking is that somewhere in your mind you think what you’re doing makes sense — until you slowly wake up enough to realize and ask yourself:
“What am I doing?”

And I think many of us eventually have moments like that spiritually. Something wakes us up.

 Maybe it’s grief or heartbreak—a significant loss. Maybe it’s burnout or a diagnosis. Maybe it’s simply the quiet realization that we are exhausted from consuming life instead of actually living it.

And suddenly we wonder: What am I doing? Am I really living right now? Or am I just going through the motions. Jesus came to offer abundant life—does my life feel abundant or routine?

That’s why I love this little story. Because Eutychus falls asleep and falls away from the community…think about the imagery in this story: he falls away from the gathered community and downward…three stories…think about the significance of that number for the resurrection.

And Paul descends to meet him there. And then he speaks words that echo the whole gospel: “There is still life in him.”

That is the good news. The good news is that even when we become numb…even when we drift or lose ourselves…God still insists: “There is still life in you.”

Jesus came not to simply help us survive life, but to wake us up to it. To the holiness hidden inside ordinary moments; to the meals shared with people we love; to the sacredness of being alive together.

I think about this often as a parent. Because I am exhausted almost all the time. And when I’m home with the girls it’s so easy to just want to get through the day to bedtime. Just trying to survive until everyone is finally asleep and the house is quiet again.

And then sometimes I catch myself. I realize these days will never come again. My daughters will only be this young once. And yes, I’m tired. And yes, some days are hard. But I don’t want to let too many of these days slip by without appreciating the gift of life held within each of them.

I don’t want to sleepwalk my way through these years only to discover later that I missed them while hurrying through them.

As Annie Dillard once wrote: “How we spend our days, is of course how we end up spending our lives.”

That’s the invitation hidden inside this strange little story. It’s an invitation to wake up to the life we already have. To notice the people around us. To pay attention to the moments of grace. To remember that abundant life is not something waiting for us someday in the future. It is here. It’s in the meals we share together, it’s in the moments of connection and laughter and conversation. It’s even in the hard moments. Abundant life is found in the ordinary days that do not seem important until they are gone.

And I love how this story ends. After Eutychus is revived, they don’t go do something dramatic—even Eutychus’ resurrection from near death isn’t all that dramatic. They simply return upstairs—back to the community. They break bread together and keep sharing life. I love this image because sometimes resurrection looks less like spectacle and more like returning to life with new eyes.

“Alfred Hitchcock famously said that movies are “life with the dull bits cut out.” Car chases and first kisses, interesting plot lines and good conversations. We don’t want to watch our lead character going on a walk, stuck in traffic, or brushing his teeth—at least not for long, and not without a good soundtrack. [In the same way] we tend to want our own lives with the dull bits cut out. Yet God made us to spend our days in rest, work, and play, taking care of our bodies, our families, our neighborhoods, our homes. What if all the boring, even routine parts matter to God and are part of the abundant life he offers us? What if all we need to do is wake up enough to realize the gift held in all these moments?

Maybe that’s the good news today.

Not that you need to become someone new or that you need to try harder or that you need to cram more meaning into your life. But maybe the good news is simply what Paul proclaims over Eutychus: “There is still life in you.” No matter how old you are or what stage or season of life you’re in: “There is still life in you.”

Life to notice. Life to love and share. Life to wake up to.

Amen and may it be so.