No Part or Lot

“There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and those to whom God says, in the end, ‘Thy will be done.’”
C. S. Lewis

“Every man who will not have softening of the heart must at last have softening of the brain.
G. K. Chesterton

“The man who has God for his treasure has all things in One.”
A. W. Tozer

“The last temptation is the greatest treason: to do the right deed for the wrong reason.”
T. S. Eliot

“Men are God’s method. The Church is looking for better methods; God is looking for better men.”
E. M. Bounds

“You will never glory in God till first of all God has killed your glorying in yourself.”
Charles Spurgeon

Some things cannot be bought. Not because they are priceless, but because they are holy. And holiness is not something a man can negotiate. It is not stored in vaults or accessed through networks. It is not swayed by charisma or compelled by currency. It does not yield to applause. Holiness, like God Himself, remains sovereign. And when Simon the Magician offered money for apostolic power, he did not merely err—he trespassed. And Peter, the one who knew well the cost of betraying sacred ground, did not flinch in his reply. “You have neither part nor lot in this matter, for your heart is not right before God” (Acts 8:21-22, ESV). Simon wanted access. He wanted a share in something divine. But the terms were not his to set. This was not merely a misstep in theology or a poorly timed request—it was a violent affront against the living God. And Peter’s response is thunderous in its finality. You have no part. No lot. Not a sliver of inheritance, not a whisper of inclusion. It is the language of rejection, not because God is unwilling to forgive, but because the foundation is crooked. The heart is wrong. And wrong hearts cannot handle holy things.

A Heart Set on Power
Simon’s background matters. He was known—feared, even—as one who “amazed the people of Samaria” with his magic, claiming he was “someone great” (Acts 8:9, ESV). He had influence. Reputation. A crafted persona that fed off the awe of the crowd. But then the apostles came—not with parlor tricks, not with enchantments, but with authority. And Simon, used to being the spectacle, suddenly found himself eclipsed. His power was counterfeit; theirs was real. He followed Philip. He was baptized. He witnessed signs and great miracles. And yet the heart remained unchanged. Do not miss that. External compliance—baptism, public association with the Church, even doctrinal assent— does not guarantee internal transformation. Simon aligned himself with the movement of God, but not with the Person of God. He loved power, not purity. He followed signs, not the Savior. And then, when Peter and John laid hands on the believers and the Spirit fell, Simon’s old instincts kicked in. He reached for his coin purse. “Give me this power also, so that anyone on whom I lay my hands may receive the Holy Spirit” (Acts 8:19, ESV). Give me. So that I may give. But not as a servant—no, as a broker. As a dealer of divine gifts. As a gatekeeper to glory. It was not a plea for intimacy with God; it was a transaction for influence. And in that moment, Simon exposed what his baptism had not cleansed: a heart still wed to sorcery. A man still in love with control. A soul that misunderstood grace so deeply that he thought it could be bought.

The Boundary of Holiness
Peter’s rebuke is as direct as it is devastating. It strikes not just at Simon’s request, but at the anatomy of the heart that made the request possible. In the Old Testament, part and lot refer to one’s inheritance among God’s people (Deuteronomy 10:9; Joshus 14:4). To have no part and no lot is to be outside the inheritance. It is covenantal exclusion. Peter is not merely saying, “This gift is not for sale.” He is saying, “You do not belong to this covenant—not with a heart like that.” This is not an overreaction. It is clarity. Because the Holy Spirit is not a product. He is not the reward of ambition or the tool of self-made ministries. He is God. And when the Spirit descends, He does so not because man demanded it, but because God sovereignly moves. He is not given through manipulation, but through mercy. Not sold, but sent. Not conjured, but welcomed. And any theology that forgets this—any leadership that attempts to traffic in the Spirit as if He were currency—is a theology of sorcery. A theology that stands not in the light of Pentecost, but in the shadows of Babel. Simon stands as a warning. Because he was religious. He was among the baptized. He was counted in the visible church. And yet Peter says: You have no part. No lot. Because your heart is not right. How many among us might find ourselves in the same place? Professed. Present. Baptized. But disqualified in the eyes of heaven because we harbor a heart that seeks God’s power without God’s presence?

The Currency of Contrition
“Repent, therefore,” Peter says, “of this wickedness of yours” (Acts 8:22, ESV). This is not advice. It is a lifeline. A command tethered to mercy. The language is sharp, but it is not final. There is still an open door. The solution to Simon’s error is not silence, shame, or exile—it is repentance. Real repentance. Not performative, not self-preserving, but the kind that cries out like David, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me” (Psalm 51:10, ESV). But Peter adds something subtle—and arresting. “Pray to the Lord that, if possible, the intent of your heart may be forgiven you” (Acts 8:22, ESV). If possible. It is not a denial of God’s ability to forgive; it is a statement about the seriousness of the sin. Peter does not presume upon grace. He does not toss a quick “God forgives everything” platitude. Instead, he calls Simon to reckon with the possibility that the intent itself—this bent desire to purchase God—may be so defiling, so irreverent, that it places him beyond ordinary confession. Not because grace is lacking, but because the heart may not be ready to truly repent. This is a sober gospel. Not a brittle one. Not fragile. But sober. It does not trivialize sin. It does not mock grace by making it a vending machine of spiritual upgrades. It recognizes that some intents—some internal postures—are not casual errors, but blasphemous distortions. And if Simon is to be healed, the root must be ripped out, not merely a branch trimmed.

When Repentance Is a Prayer Away
We are a people obsessed with access. We like quick pathways. Shortcuts. Influence disguised as favor. But when it comes to the Holy Spirit, there is only one access point: the broken heart. The contrite spirit. The humble cry. Simon sought access through silver. But silver has no currency in the Spirit’s economy. What He demands is repentance. And that repentance must be more than behavioral. It must be surgical. It must reach into the motives, the silent corners of intent where pride cloaks itself in religious garb. It is not enough to reject Simon’s request. We must reject Simon’s heart. Not him, but the disease he revealed: the craving for power without holiness. The hunger for reputation without righteousness. The desire to be seen as spiritual without the slow, quiet crucifixion of the flesh. And the Church must learn to respond like Peter—not with flattery, not with caution, but with fire. There is no reward for softening the edges of God’s holiness. There is no favor in excusing idolatry because it wears clerical robes. Where the Spirit is grieved, the Church must grieve. And where the Spirit is sought, He must be sought on His terms, not ours.

The Gift That Cannot Be Bought
Perhaps the greatest tragedy is not that Simon made the offer. But that so many since him have done the same. We dress it in ministry. We hide it in platforms. We call it “anointing” when it is merely charisma. And we justify it because it works. But fruitfulness without holiness is not success—it is judgment delayed. “You have no part nor lot.” Those words should haunt us—in the most holy way. Because they are not spoken to a pagan. They are spoken to one within the Church. One among the baptized. One who had seen signs and followed the apostles. The warning is not for the outsider. It is for us. And yet. And yet—Peter calls him to repentance. He does not excommunicate him on the spot. He does not seal his doom. He offers a path back. And this is the mercy of God: that even the gravest perversion can still be cleansed, if the heart will bow. There is no power in the Church without purity. There is no inheritance without surrender. And there is no Spirit without the cross.

The Currency of Applause
Simon’s sin has a thousand offspring. Not all bring silver in hand; many bring subtler currencies —visibility, influence, affirmation, platform, belonging. They do not ask to buy the Holy Spirit, not overtly—but their hearts posture the same request: “Give me this power also.” They crave access to sacred things, not to steward them in trembling humility, but to stand in proximity to the fire without ever being burned. They desire to be seen as spiritual, as valuable to the community of the faithful, as useful to the movement of God—yet all the while, the intent of the heart is angled not toward Christ’s glory but their own. And the Spirit sees. The eye of man may be beguiled by charisma, gifting, zeal even—but the Spirit knows the bent of a heart. There is no such thing as spiritual ambition that does not first crucify the self. Every desire that smuggles ego into the holy place is a treason of the highest order, and the Word still stands: “You have no part or lot in this matter, for your heart is not right before God.”

So, dear reader, let us not ask what we can get from the Spirit. Let us ask what must die in us for the Spirit to move. Do you want power, or do you want God? That is the line between Simon and Peter. One sought the Holy Spirit as a means. The other bowed before Him as Master. One treated Him as a product. The other trembled before His presence. We are all invited. But not all are included. Some hearts are not right. Not yet. Let that drive you—not to despair, but to your knees. Because there is still time to repent. And the Lord still hears the cry of the broken. Even if the request is foolish, mercy waits for the one who will pray.