A church looking to Jesus…

 

Acts 9:1–22 & Matthew 19:27–30

 

The Feast of the Conversion of St Paul, which we commemorate today, is one of the most dramatic and perhaps even most important parts of the Bible.

Saul, as he was then known, was going about offering threats and violence, and travelling presumably with a desire to continue his persecution of people who followed Jesus, and he is stopped in his tracks. There was a light from heaven, a voice that he could not ignore and a question that stunned him:

“Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”

It is dramatic, yes — but it is also deeply personal. Saul is not given a lecture. He is not handed a list of doctrines. He is confronted with a person. He meets Jesus.

And that is at the heart of today’s readings. Saul had, in an incredible way that he would never have expected, met Jesus, and I think the Conversion of St Paul also perhaps challenges us to say, “We want to see Jesus.”

Not an idea, not a theory, not a distant memory, not a tradition — but Jesus himself.

Saul’s conversion is not just a story of a bad man becoming good. In many ways Saul would have been respected – he probably mixed in influential and important parts of society and Saul is of course utterly convinced he is right. He is zealous, committed, disciplined, but of course he is also wrong. And yet Jesus does not condemn him. Instead, He calls him.

And again, the experience of Saul on the Damascus Road is one that challenges us – God interrupted him. And God can still interrupt us.

Sometimes gently, sometimes dramatically. Sometimes through a question we cannot shake or through a person we did not expect. 

Sometimes it might be through a moment that stops us in our tracks.

It reminds me a little of a man who was driving to an important meeting, absolutely convinced he knew the way. His passenger suggested turning on the satnav, but he waved it off — “I’ve been here before, I know exactly where I’m going.” Twenty minutes later, they passed the same field for the third time. When he finally switched the satnav on, it said in that calm, slightly patronising voice: “Recalculating route.” 

And his passenger said, “Those are the Holy Spirit’s favourite words.”

We smile, but there’s truth in it. Sometimes we are so sure of ourselves, so certain we’re heading in the right direction — and God gently says, “Recalculating route.”

God speaks in all kinds of different ways and the challenge is whether we’re ready to listen. Are we willing to say, ‘We want to see Jesus’ because if we are, Jesus wants to be seen.

In the Gospel, Peter asks Jesus a question that so many have wondered about. Perhaps it’s even a question we’ve thought ourselves: “We have left everything and followed you. What then will we have?”

It’s an honest and human question. It’s a question that perhaps we feel whenever discipleship feels hard or costly. It’s perfectly understandable and Jesus understands – instead of reprimanding or rebuking Peter, he makes a promise.

He speaks of renewal, of restoration, of a kingdom where the first will be last and the last will be first. He speaks of a world reordered by grace, where value is not measured by status, achievement, or wealth, but by belonging to him.

In our readings the conversion of Paul and the promise to Peter belong together.

Paul discovers that everything he once counted as gain is nothing compared to knowing Christ. And Peter discovers that nothing given up for Christ is ever lost.

Both discover that Jesus is worth everything.

Most of us will never have a Damascus Road moment. There will probably be no blinding light for us, no audible voice, no sudden collapse of everything we thought we knew.

But Jesus still calls. Jesus still interrupts. Jesus still asks us to think about our lives in the light of his love.

And the question for us becomes, ‘What gets in the way of seeing Jesus?’

Not because we should abandon our responsibilities, or neglect our relationships, or pretend we have no possessions — but because we’re invited to enjoy the fact that everything in our lives is meant to be held in the light of Christ.

That might be our families, our work, our social lives, our hopes, our fears, our habits, our priorities…

All of those things become clearer, truer, more lifegiving when they are shaped by the One who calls us by name, when they are shaped by Jesus.

Of course, Paul’s life after his conversion is marked by a kind of holy urgency as I’ve heard it called. There was no panic, but there was a clear purpose… He knew that the gospel was worth giving his life to. He knew that the world needs to see Jesus. And he knew that the time we have is precious. Each one of us is called to serve Jesus as we live in the light of his love.

And Paul lived with a sense of urgency, ready to tell as many people as he could about this incredible life transforming love… Many before us have lived with that same urgency.

John Wesley famously said: “Do all the good you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.”

He didn’t say that because we earn God’s love, but because we have already received it. He didn’t say it to try and impress Jesus, but because he had seen him — and once he had seen him, he wanted others to see him too.

The example of Paul and of people like John Wesley and so many others is one we’re called to follow – to put Jesus at the centre of our lives and when we do that, something remarkable happens.

Relationships can deepen. Our compassion widens. Our priorities shift.

We begin to recognise one another as brothers and sisters — the joyful and the hurting, the confident and the anxious, the young and the old, the ones who feel at home and the ones who feel on the edge.

And in that recognition, Jesus becomes visible. We want to see Jesus — and the world wants to see him too. And the amazing truth is that God chooses to reveal him through us.

So may we, like Paul, allow God to interrupt us… May we, like Peter, trust that nothing given for Jesus is ever wasted… May we hold our lives in the light of Jesus, so that in all we do, all we say, and all we are, others may glimpse his love.

And may our prayer - simple, ancient, urgent - always be this: “We want to see Jesus.” Amen