I’m studying the book of Acts and here’s what I think: Luke was a master storyteller.
As he recounts the story of the apostles and the early church, he gives us little notes about Paul to prepare us for his dramatic conversion in Acts 9. Known as Saul, this young man was present at Stephen’s murder and approved of the stoning (Acts 7:57, 8:1). After Stephen died, Saul entered house after house in Jerusalem, dragging men and women off to jail because they believed in Jesus. Zealous to snuff out Christianity, he did what he probably thought was God’s work to obliterate the growing sect of Christ followers. We know from his own account of his conversion in Acts 26 that he had “kicked against the goads” for quite a while. Maybe I’m wrong, but I think Saul was running from the Lord and persecuting what he was afraid of. God’s plan to save a known murderer* of Christians and turn him into a missionary is stunning in and of itself. Paul’s work for the kingdom of God still has ripple effects to this day. If the details were limited to the bright light and the voice of Jesus and Saul’s belief in Christ, that would be enough.
But then Luke introduces us to Ananias. And within the story is another story that should never be skipped or minimized. Ananias was a Christian living in Damascus, maybe because of the persecution of believers in Jerusalem and the subsequent scattering of Christians. He has a vision of Jesus telling him to go find and pray for a man who Ananias knows is responsible for the arrest and death of many Christians. But Jesus tells him to go because this man will be commissioned to both suffer for Jesus and share His gospel widely. So Ananias does, and his first words to the infamous murderer of Jesus-followers are this: “Brother Saul.” Brother?!
I’m certain I would have felt infinitely superior to someone who claimed to believe in Jesus after zealously persecuting His followers. Phrases like “How dare you?” and “Who do you think you are?” come to mind. But “brother?” So much is being said here. Through faith in Jesus, these two men were now family. In Jesus, there was forgiveness between murderer and the one who would have been murdered had it not been for the conversion on the Damascus road. Saul was on his way to arrest and arrange the murder of Christians in Damascus, of whom Ananias was one. But Ananias places a hand on Saul’s shoulder and calls him family. It’s a welcome, really. A greeting meant to sweep Saul into the blood-bought group of people he had wanted dead.
I sat with my Bible study group around my dining room table today discussing this story in amazement. I think we all had tears in our eyes. Ananias’ welcoming greeting is every bit as miraculous as Saul’s conversion. Only Jesus unites enemies and makes them siblings. Only Jesus obliterates resentment and bitterness and fear. Only Jesus reconciles people to one another and to God.
We’re all like Saul in the beginning. “Alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds,” is how he describes us in Colossians 1. But in Christ, we can be like Ananias. Faith in Christ changes the trajectory of a life.
I looked around the table today and asked the other women, “Who would you be today if the Lord had not saved you and changed the trajectory of your life?” Alcoholics, drug addicts, approval junkies, angry, bitter, promiscuous, alone, dead. We all know ourselves well enough to glimpse who we’d be if God had left us to our hostile, angry devices. A newcomer to our group is a brand-new Christian. She knows exactly who she was two months ago. I’ve been saved since I was a child, but I still know who I’d be.
I try to picture her sometimes—the unredeemed, still-lost, dead-in-her-sins version of myself. She is burning up with all the temptations I fight on a daily basis. But she never fights for there is no Spirit in her to take up the Word as a sword. She seethes with anger, her thoughts coated in bitterness and self-entitlement. She is proud but never confident, hungry but never filled. She would never stay in a marriage, would never apologize, would forever seek a new source of affirmation and approval and love. She’ll never find it outside of Christ.
I am afraid of her, to be honest. When temptation gets the best of me and I say yes to sin, I see who I could have been if the Lord hadn’t intervened. When the words “I’m sorry” stick in my throat, I think of her staring down an offender without remorse, cold and resentful and ready to cast stones. I push the words out quickly because I know that Jesus has rescued me from her blindness and hard-heartedness. The thing is, Jesus has changed the trajectory of my life. He has placed a hand on my shoulder and called me “sister.” He has promised to share His own inheritance with me for eternity. And that…well, that changed everything for me. And it changes everything still. For there is no person I’ll ever meet who is too far from a Damascus conversion or an Ananias welcome. I glanced around the dining room table today—the open Bibles, the pens, the notebook pages filled with lines and lines of handwritten notes. I looked at each face. I wouldn’t even know their names had we not met at church, had Jesus not saved each of us, had we not been changed from hostile to holy, from enemy to friend, from adversary to sister.
“Brother Saul.” It changes everything.
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*Though Luke only speaks of Paul’s actions to imprison Christians in Acts 8-9, please see Acts 26:9-11 for Paul’s own description of his actions to cast votes against them when they were put to death.
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness (Crossway), and Memorizing Scripture (Moody). Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.