Perhaps the greatest transformation story in the Bible, perhaps the greatest transformation story in all Christian history is the transformation of a man named Saul into the Apostle named Paul. Perhaps there is no more well-known story of transformation in the Bible than this one. A commentator in the IVP New Testament Commentary series says it this way:
“The most important event in human history apart from the life, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth is the conversion to Christianity of Saul of Tarsus. If Saul had remained a Jewish rabbi, we would be missing thirteen of twenty-seven books of the New Testament and Christianity's early major expansion to the Gentiles. Humanly speaking, without Paul Christianity would probably be of only antiquarian or arcane interest, like the Dead Sea Scrolls community or the Samaritans.”
Paul’s story is one most of us, if we’ve been in the church any length of time, have heard. We’ve heard of this dramatic encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus, and we know that Paul is introduced to us as the man holding the coats of those who stoned Stephen (one of the first Christians) to death. And, our text today begins by reminding us that this Paul (who was Saul) was “breathing threats and murder” against the people of The Way, and was holding warrants for their arrest. We hear the story and we think what a transformation! What a change from a murderous enemy of Christ to the greatest advocate for Christ. We even get the impression from the words of Luke that Paul was an evil man, and that his encounter with Christ transformed an evil, arrogant man into a humble saint of God. Might I rather suggest this was the transformation of a righteous man?
Paul was a Jew. Paul, in the first century context, would have been a man after God’s own heart. He was a teacher of Judaism. In Acts 23:6, Paul cries out before the Council, “Brethren, I am a Pharisee, a son of Pharisees; I am on trial for the hope and resurrection of the dead!” Later, in Philippians 3, Paul would describe himself this way: “circumcised the eighth day, of the nation of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the Law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to the righteousness which is in the Law, found blameless.”
He grew up in a Pharisee’s home. He was taught the life of a Pharisee as a child. As he got older, he sat under the teaching of Gamaliel, the most influential Jewish teacher of his day. This was the same Gamaliel who, in the church’s infancy, told the Sanhedrin to leave this fledgling group of Jesus followers alone. If this was a move of God, the Sanhedrin couldn’t stop it. If it wasn’t, it would soon die out on its own. Paul knew all of the laws and ordinances of Judaism. Paul was considered among the most righteous of the righteous, and he was, this day, on a mission for God. There was one problem: Paul may have been on a mission for God, but he didn’t really know the God whose mission he was on. Here was a person, as righteous as he was, in need of transformation.
The transformation Paul needed came in an encounter with the risen Christ on his way to “do God’s will.” Paul, who was a passionate man (some would translate passionate as arrogant), was headed to Damascus with arrest warrants for Christians, and I suspect he was even meditating and praying over the Scriptures. Isn’t that what “righteous” people do? Suddenly, a flash of light literally knocks him down and a question, “Why do you persecute me?” And when Paul asks who it is, the voice says, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.” The KJV, as well as the NKJV, includes a little phrase that says, “It is hard for you to kick against the goads.” In an instant—literally, in a flash—everything that Paul thought and believed is turned on its head, and he sees that he wasn’t actually doing what God wanted after all.
Jesus said Paul was kicking “against the goads.” What does he mean? Most of us are unfamiliar with a goad. Today, we call them prods. Before the advent of the battery, a goad was a long sharp, pointed stick used to move cattle. Jesus was telling Paul that he was resisting God’s prodding, causing God to goad him even harder. God was trying to get Paul’s attention even while Paul was busy for God.
So, what was wrong with Paul’s life that God would try to get his attention? First of all, there was a problem with Paul’s faith. You see, Paul had a religion – but he didn’t have a relationship. Paul’s was an inherited religion. It hadn’t been made personal. Let me offer a qualifier here. There is much about inherited faith that is deep and meaningful. The traditions of those faithful folk who have gone before us are wonderful and moving. Tradition is a great thing. Tradition has been defined as “the living faith of the dead saints.” But, too often, we become defined by those rules and regulations of religion, and we fall into the trap of traditionalism, which is nothing more than the dead faith of those still alive. What do I mean? Let me illustrate it this way.
How many Christians does it take to change a light bulb?
• Charismatic: Only 1 – Hands are already in the air.
• Pentecostal: 10 – One to change the bulb, and nine to pray against the spirit of darkness.
• Presbyterians: None – Lights will go on and off at predestined times.
• Roman Catholic: None – Candles only.
• Baptists: At least 15 – One to change the light bulb, and three committees to approve the change and decide who brings the potato salad and fried chicken.
• Episcopalians: 3 – One to call the electrician, one to mix the drinks and one to talk about how much better the old one was.
• Methodists: Undetermined – Whether your light is bright, dull, or completely out, you are loved. You can be a light bulb, turnip bulb, or tulip bulb. Bring a bulb of your choice to the Sunday lighting service and a covered dish to pass.
• Lutherans: None – Lutherans don't believe in change.
• Amish: What's a light bulb?
When rules and regulations define our religion, rather than lead us into a deeper relationship with the Savior, we have fallen into the trap of traditionalism. Perhaps that’s where Paul found himself. He had the rules and regulations, but he didn’t have the relationship. It is important that we teach the tenets of Christianity. It is important that we help non-believers understand the morals and ethics that go with our faith. But, it is far more important that we introduce non-believers to Jesus Christ. If we continue believing that Christianity means going to church every Sunday, learning all of the right songs, praying the right prayers and standing for the right things, then we are failing as disciples. If unbelievers (and I might add, too, our children) equate being a disciple of Jesus Christ with being against something, be it abortion, premarital sex, drugs and alcohol, rock music and all of the other taboos of our day, then we have failed them. We don’t want our children or anyone else to inherit our religion. We want them to meet our Savior. Paul had a wonderful religion, but he missed having a wonderful relationship with God. He was fighting against something that was greater than his religion.
Another reason this righteous man was in need of a transformation was because he was trying to do God’s work, but he wasn’t doing God’s will. Paul thought these people of “The Way” were a threat to his religion, and as such, needed to be dealt with, much the same way Moses and Joshua dealt with the people in the promised land—drive them all out, or kill them. But, “The Way” really was the way God would use to transform the world. Can you imagine what a surprise it was for Paul? He believes that he is doing God’s work, only to discover that he is completely out of God’s will. The very thing that he is fighting is God himself. Paul has been blind to the real work God was doing. Paul was blinded by his zeal, by his passion, by his anger and perhaps, even by his hatred. I wonder if Paul had to be blinded physically to see just how blind he was spiritually?
An old farmer liked to brag that he could command his mule with nothing more than a few soft words; no whips or prods necessary. Of course people were skeptical, so one day his buddy down at the feed store asked for a demonstration, “Prove to me that your old mule will respond with nothing more than gentle language.”
Out in the field they went; the farmer, his buddy, and the mule. As the friend watched, the farmer took a two-by-four about six feet long, and swung it with all his might, hitting the mule on one ear! When the animal stopped braying and bellowing and prancing around, the farmer then said, quietly, “Come here” and the mule came. “Sit.” and the whimpering creature sat. “Back up.” and she backed into the harnesses of a plow and waited calmly for him to hook up. “You see? She’ll respond to a simple voice command.”
His friend strenuously objected, “What are you talking about? You said all you had to do was talk to her, but you hit her with this two-by-four! What do you mean, you just command her with words?!? That’s not what I saw!”
“Oh, that,” said the farmer. “Well, first I do have to get her attention!”
It seems that quite often God uses the proverbial two-by-four to get our attention because without it we would not listen, we would not follow. We get so busy going about the routines of our lives that God often has to do something dramatic or we don’t even notice that we’re trying to do God’s work without being in God’s will. And, we don’t notice until that two-by-four strikes us on the head; or in Paul’s case, until a flash of light knocks us to our knees. When Paul is knocked down by God, he does something that reveals his broken spirit. He asks perhaps the most transformative question we can ever ask God—“Who are you, Lord?”
The question is a personal question. When Jesus answered, “I am Jesus, the one you are persecuting,” Paul realized this was not the God he had known, nor the God he’d been serving. God, until this moment, had simply been a list of do’s and don’ts. In one transformative moment, Paul encountered the living God in the person of Jesus Christ. Paul had heard the testimony of who this Jesus was. Time and again, as he had arrested and persecuted the followers of “The Way,” they had witnessed to him about Jesus. He knew immediately that everything he had heard was true, and it was life-transforming.
It’s a question we all must answer, and not only once, I think. It’s a question we must wrestle with every day because the more I learn about God, the more I discover I have to learn. Just when I think I have Him figured out, Christ blows my perception totally out of the water and I realize I don’t have him figured out at all. That makes it hard to give intellectual assent to something so mysterious. That’s why, ultimately, it’s a matter of faith. Do we believe enough to trust Him?
Jesus told Paul, “Now, get up and go into the city, and you’ll be told what you must do.” Paul had to trust Christ enough to put his life in the hands of those whom he’d been persecuting. That took faith! But faith is no faith until it issues forth in action. The greatest sign of our own transformation is our obedience to the call of God on our lives.
My own journey reflects this truth, if only marginally so. I grew up a good person, knowing all the rules and regulations of the faith…at the foot of a Methodist piano, I call it. I even had a job that was the epitome of doing good—I worked in law enforcement. I was a good man doing a good thing, but I was in need of transformation. I needed a life-changing encounter with the living Christ. Christ met me and changed my life forever. That’s why I’m here today. That doesn’t make me special. It makes me a participant in God’s grace. That same grace is available to all of us—righteous or not.
Our problem is we’re too content with only a little grace. We’re like Wilber Rees:
“I would like to buy $3 worth of God, please. Not enough to explode my soul or disturb my sleep, but just enough to equal a cup of warm milk or a snooze in the sunshine.
I don't want enough of God to make me love a black man or pick beets with a migrant.
I want ecstasy, not transformation. I want the warmth of the womb, not a new birth.
I want a pound of the Eternal in a paper sack.
I would like to buy $3 worth of God, please. No, no, not the flesh and blood one…He will keep me from my appointment with the hair dresser and make me late for the cocktail party. He will soil my linen and break my strand of matched pearls. I can’t put up with pundits from Persia or sweaty shepherds trampling over my nylon carpet with their muddy feet. My name isn’t Mary, you know!
I want no living, breathing Christ—but one I can keep in its crib with a rubber band. That plastic one will do just fine.”
Trust Christ for the gift of His grace. Whatever road you’re on, Christ is there to meet you. He’s calling. Calling us all to salvation…even the most righteous among us.
