The fascinating narrative of Paul of Tarsus begins with a gripping light-blinding episode in the book of Acts. When the Risen Lord sets his mission on course, even the worst enemy is recruited and transformed into hero.
It is Black Saturday and I wonder about this designation.
Splintered in between Good Friday and Glorious Sunday, the seemingly insignificant weekend flaunts nothing but a wait.
When the first century Christians took to the streets, the impunity of social ostracism flared like hell. Saul was at the helm of its loot. He was a man obsessed in killing young roots. He signed approval sheets of death. All that believers could do was wait for God's hand of merciful protection.
Then the remarkable confrontation at Damascus Road happened. The Alpha and Omega stood strong inciting Paul's immediate surrender.
Saul was renamed Paul. His vision was altered forever.
I know of one Paul whom I first met while I was preaching in Dallas. One thing I recall: he left abruptly while I was sharing the sad news of our loss ... our baby boy did not make it. Heaven had to be his home.
The next time I heard from him was a phone call. It was an invitation if I may officiate his desire to lead in marriage and plant a family.
I am currently witnessing God's amazing hand in his young life. The road he took is a kindred hike.
When Christ showed up at Dallas, Paul was called never to be the same again.
The unabridged joy in his family serves as Powerpoint to a resplendence that will never have to wait for anything.
