On The Road

The Conversion of Saul

Saul of Tarsus was a man of some serious conviction. He was no ordinary Jew; he was a Pharisee of Pharisees, one of the top, born of the tribe of Benjamin, raised under the strictest law, and educated at the feet of Gamaliel, one of the most well loved rabbis of his time. To understand Saul, we must imagine a man completely immersed in the world of Torah, Mishnah (man's written idea of what they thought the rules of God's commandments meant), and tradition. He was zealous for the Law, convinced that any deviation from it was an affront to God Himself. So when whispers of a crucified Nazarene rising from the dead began to spread, Saul burned with righteous indignation. This was blasphemy, this is heresy, a corruption of the faith he had sworn to protect. And he would stop it—no matter the cost.

With letters from the high priest, he set out on a mission. His goal was to crush this dangerous movement, to silence the followers of Jesus, to eradicate the very mention of His name. He had seen Stephen stoned to death and approved of it. He had dragged believers from their homes, throwing them into prison, his heart was as hard as the very Law he upheld. Every scream, every plea for mercy, every prayer whispered by these so-called followers of the Way only hardened his resolve. He was certain—absolutely certain—that he was doing God's will. But certainty can be blinding.

And so, on the road to Damascus, with his mind full of purpose and his heart full of wrath, everything changed in an instant. A light brighter than the noonday sun knocked him to the ground. The intensity of it seared into his very soul. "Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me?" The voice was undeniable, piercing through every fiber of his being. Not a distant thunder, not an impression upon his heart, but a voice—real, present, commanding.

"Who are You, Lord?" The words stumbled from his lips, a crack in the unshakable fortress of his beliefs.

"I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting."

And just like that, Saul's world was undone.

This was impossible. Jesus was dead. He had seen His followers scattered, His name cursed in the synagogues. But here He was, alive, speaking to him. Everything he had built his life upon crumbled in that moment. The Law, his status, his mission—what did any of it mean now? Had he been fighting against God this entire time? His chest tightened with the weight of it. He had thought himself the defender of truth, but what if he had been its greatest enemy? The realization clawed at him as darkness swallowed his vision. Blind and broken, he was led into Damascus.

Three days in darkness. Three days of silence. No food. No water. Just him and his thoughts, spiraling, unraveling. He had been so sure of himself, but now he couldn’t even see his own hands in front of his face. Was this blindness a punishment? A mercy? Every memory of the people he had dragged away, the families he had torn apart, the look in Stephen’s eyes as the stones crushed him—they haunted him now. And for the first time in his life, Saul of Tarsus, the mighty persecutor, had nothing. No answers. No control. Only waiting.

And then, into this shattered existence stepped Ananias.

Ananias had heard of Saul. Everyone had. He was the terror of the church, the man whose very name sent shivers down the spines of believers. Saul was the reason men and women whispered prayers in hiding, why families clung to one another at night, never sure if the morning would bring the heavy knock of temple guards. And now, God was telling him—Ananias—to go to this man? To lay hands on him? To call him brother?

"Lord," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to Your saints in Jerusalem. And here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who call on Your name" (Acts 9:13-14).

Every part of him wanted to protest. This man had been hunting them. He had likely arrested friends of Ananias, maybe even family. And now God wanted him to walk straight to Saul, to risk everything? But the Lord’s answer was firm:

"Go, for he is a chosen instrument of Mine to carry My name before the Gentiles and kings and the children of Israel" (Acts 9:15).

So Ananias went, step by hesitant step, heart pounding. What would he find? A ruthless zealot waiting to turn him in? A man too far gone to be reached? But when he entered the house and saw Saul—weak, blind, helpless—something shifted. This wasn’t a monster. This was a man who had been shattered by an encounter with the living God.

Taking a deep breath, Ananias placed his hands on him. "Brother Saul..."

Brother.

Not enemy, not murderer, but brother.

"The Lord Jesus, who appeared to you on the road, has sent me that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit."

And just like that, the scales fell from Saul’s eyes. He could see, truly see, for the first time in his life.

But Saul wasn’t the only one who had to wrestle with fear. The saints in Damascus, the very ones he had come to destroy, had to face the unthinkable: that their greatest enemy was now claiming to be one of them. Could they trust him? Was this some elaborate trick? The very thought of seeing him, eating with him, calling him brother must have sent shudders through the early church people. This was Saul. The Saul. The man who had broken their families, scattered their friends, and filled the prisons with their loved ones. How could they believe this transformation was real?

But Saul proved it with his actions. He didn’t just claim to be changed—he was changed. The man who had sought to destroy the church now proclaimed Jesus as the Son of God. The hunter became the hunted, the persecutor became the persecuted. He was baptized, and from that moment forward, he was no longer Saul, the zealous Pharisee, but Paul, the apostle of grace. He would suffer, he would be beaten, shipwrecked, imprisoned, and ultimately killed for the very name he once despised. But he had seen the risen Christ, and there was no turning back.

This is the power of transformation. A man so certain of his path, so entrenched in his ways, was utterly and completely remade. Redemption is never out of reach, even for the most hardened of hearts. Paul would later write, "If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has passed away, behold, the new has come" (2 Corinthians 5:17). He lived those words. He breathed them. And because of his transformation, the gospel spread to the Gentiles, reaching the ends of the earth.

The story of Saul is not just a story of conversion. It is a story of grace, of a love so relentless that it stops a man in his tracks, blinds him so he can truly see, breaks him so he can be made whole. And if God could do that for Saul, what can He do, has He done, for us?

I hope this message blessed you. If so, please leave a comment. I look forward to hearing from you.

Anna M. C. Hazen 2025

The image is AI generated on chatgpt.