Blinded by Grace

Ananias and the Scales Fall

On the third day, the silence was broken by a knock at the door. My heart raced. Who could it be? I was still blind, groping in the darkness, haunted by the words of Jesus. My companions, unsure of what to do, led me to a chair as they opened the door.

"Saul, someone is here to see you," one of them said cautiously. I heard footsteps approaching, and then a gentle voice spoke my name.

"Brother Saul..."

Brother? I wasn't expecting that. The voice was kind, warm even.

"I am Ananias," the man continued. "The Lord Jesus, who appeared to you on the road, has sent me so that you may see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit."

Ananias? I had heard of him. He was one of the followers of Jesus, one of the very people I had come to Damascus to arrest. I expected fear or hostility from him, but instead, he called me "brother." That word hit me like a hammer. How could he call me that after everything I had done? I had been hunting down his people like animals. And yet here he was, sent by the very Jesus I had persecuted, to help me.

I heard Ananias step closer, and then I felt his hands on my head. His touch was gentle, yet firm with conviction.

"Brother Saul, the Lord has sent me to lay hands on you," he said, his voice calm but filled with authority. "Receive your sight."

In an instant, something like scales fell from my eyes. The darkness lifted, and I could see again. But it wasn't just my physical sight that had returned. it was as if I could finally see the truth. My blindness had been more than physical. I had been spiritually blind, my heart clouded by pride and self-righteousness. Now, I saw clearly.

I looked up at Ananias, blinking away the tears that welled in my eyes. He smiled warmly at me. "The Lord has chosen you, Saul," he said, "to carry His name before Gentiles, kings, and the people of Israel."

The weight of his words was overwhelming. Jesus had chosen me? Me, a man who had tried to destroy His followers? I couldn't comprehend it. But as I listened to Ananias, I knew that it was true. This was not just a second chance; it was a calling. My life would never be the same.

Ananias took me to a nearby house where the other believers were gathered. They received me with cautious kindness, still uncertain of what to make of me. I couldn't blame them. I had been their enemy, after all. But as I sat among them, I felt a deep sense of peace. The very people I had come to arrest were now my family.

After I regained my strength, Ananias urged me to be baptized. He led me to the water, and there, with trembling hands, I went under the surface. As the water washed over me, it felt like I was being cleansed of all the hatred, all the zeal without knowledge, all the bloodshed. I came up from the water, gasping, as if I had taken my first breath in years.

When I emerged, I was no longer Saul, the persecutor. I was a new man. The old had gone, and something new was beginning. But what lay ahead, I could not yet imagine. All I knew was that my life was no longer my own. I was no longer defined by my past, by my education, or by my zeal for the Law. I was now a servant of the very Jesus I had rejected.

In the days that followed, I stayed with the believers in Damascus, learning from them, listening to their stories of Jesus, His teachings, His miracles, His death, and His resurrection. I hung on every word, hungry for more. The more I learned, the more my heart burned with conviction.

It wasn't long before I began to preach in the synagogues, declaring that Jesus is the Son of God. The people who heard me were astonished. "Isn't this the man who caused havoc in Jerusalem among those who call on this name?" they whispered. "Hasn't he come here to take them as prisoners to the chief priests?"

I could see the confusion in their eyes. They had known me as Saul the persecutor. Now I stood before them as Paul, the proclaimer of Christ.

But I didn't care what they thought. I preached with boldness, testifying to the grace that had changed my life. The very man I had opposed, I now called Lord. The very people I had despised, I now called brothers and sisters. It was nothing short of a miracle.

And yet, not everyone welcomed my transformation. Some of the Jewish leaders in Damascus grew furious at my message. They saw me as a traitor, a turncoat. And just as I had once sought to kill the followers of Jesus, now they sought to kill me. But the believers in Damascus, those whom I had come to arrest, saved me. They lowered me in a basket through an opening in the city wall, and I escaped into the night.

As I fled, I couldn't help but marvel at the irony. The man who had once hunted the followers of Jesus was now fleeing for his life because of his faith in the very same Jesus. I didn't know what lay ahead, but I knew one thing for certain: I would never be the same.