A smile stretched across his face as the quill flew over the parchment. He couldn’t stop it. The words erupting from the depths of his heart evoked strong emotions. Unleashed exuberance. Unabashed celebration. Unquestionable truth. Unlike some of the unpleasant things it had been necessary to write in other letters, these words came easily, flowed beautifully. Exciting words. Joyous words. Celebratory words. Powerful affirmations to his readers of a truth he personally knew to be absolute. Infinite love. From God. To man. Deserving or not. Paul had experienced it, yet could think of no one less worthy. (I Timothy 1:15)
His resume was not a glowing endorsement of his qualifications for candidacy. It didn’t even have the same name. He’d been Saul, then. A thug. Misguided. Disillusioned. Menacing. His job was hunting down Christians to torment and kill. He had been ignorant, arrogant, and malicious, traveling from town to town, issuing threats against the nonconformists. Tirelessly, Saul worked to discourage, disband, and utterly destroy the newly forming church of God.
The work had been never-ending. Regardless of where he travelled, how terrifying his arrival, how menacing his threats, how brutal his arrests, the people of God kept preaching. Everywhere. Philip, Peter, and John travelled and preached and healed, always a step ahead of him as he blazed a trail of religious hatred. Their words and works resonated in every town, leaving behind a nucleus of people changed by the infinite love of God. So changed, in fact, that they were willing to sacrifice themselves for the cause of Christ. It was enraging. His anger burned. His zeal ignited. He aggressively sought to thwart the spread. Armed with letters from the high priest in Jerusalem urging the synagogues in Damascus to aid in fulfilling his mission, Saul raced out of town on the biggest assignment of his life.
He almost made it, too. Would have made it if his horse hadn’t been spooked on the outskirts of town by an extraordinarily bright light and the sound of a voice speaking from the heavens. Dropping from his steed, Saul hit the ground as the voice spoke directly to him. Called him by name. It had questions. Serious questions. Questions that sounded more like accusations. Questions for which Saul had no answers. Not good ones, anyway. His motives were not something to proudly flash before the great Lord of the universe, whose voice this assuredly was. His timid answer gained him nothing but rebuke. God called him out. The God who loved His people so dearly and lived close enough to feel their joy and sorrows, also felt their persecution, their fear, their anxiety. He saw what was going on. He heard their cries for help. He had come to rescue them. He had also come to rescue Saul.
Done with the current conversation, God issued a command. “Get up. Go to Damascus. Wait for instructions.” It wasn’t difficult. Until Saul tried to do it. Rising to his feet, he immediately noticed he had a problem. He couldn’t see. At all. Not his men. Not his horse. Not the road. He needed help. A guide. A leader. Someone to hold his hand and take him where he needed to go. It was humiliating. His ego took an enormous hit. For three days. Three days of being led where he needed to go. Three days of being treated like a child or an infirm old man. Three long, tedious, anxiety-filled days of waiting and wondering what would become of him. Three days of acknowledging that the hand of God had stopped him in his tracks. Three days of failing to realize that God’s hand had not struck in anger, but out of His great heart of love.
It took a while for Paul to put that piece of the puzzle in place. Nothing about sitting around in sudden blindness feels loving. It doesn’t feel good or kind or caring. It doesn’t feel like a rescue. That is exactly what it was. On his current trajectory, Saul was headed for destruction. Spiritual demolition. Eternal death. So loudly was he playing his own tune that he couldn’t hear the loving voice of God calling him to come away from that abyss. He hadn’t heard it as he stood happily watching Stephen’s demise. He hadn’t seen it as men and women refused to abandon their faith and follow his. He didn’t understand it because he never took the time to investigate it. He was too busy with the business of a zealot. Hunting, arresting, and killing Christians who refused to turn from the Way. So God brought him face-to-face with it. Convinced him of its reality. The infinite love of God for humanity. Even in their sin. (Acts 9:1-9)
It was the message he was continually trying to share. The amazing love of God. It had changed Saul’s life. Rewrote his resume. Changed his name. Gave him a new occupation. It had taken a hot minute to move past his old reputation, but, all these years later, hardly anyone remembered his past. Except Paul. Not once had he lost sight of that. He knew he was a horrible sinner. A recovering persecutor of God’s church. He knew who he was and what his heart was capable of becoming if not completely engulfed in the presence and power of God. Every day, when he looked in the mirror, saw his reflection in the wash basin, or saw his image in the stillness of a lake, Paul saw himself for who he was. A sinner saved by grace. The chief of sinners, by his estimation. But he also saw who he was in Christ. Beloved child of God. Loved beyond measure. Embraced, encircled, encased in the love of God that could never be taken away. It was the space in which he lived his life. It was also the truth that carried him through every twist and turn of his journey.
Things hadn’t exactly been easy since Paul found himself engulfed in the infinite love of God. As quick as he was to go about sharing and preaching and teaching, he was also quick to learn that not everyone was open to hearing the good news of God’s love for sinners exhibited through the plan of salvation. People weren’t excited to admit their sins. Not everyone wanted to change. There were plenty of naysayers. Many stood against him. Some wanted him dead. The evil one wanted him silenced. Things happened. Bad things. Beatings. Stonings. Arrests. Imprisonments. The list could go on. Unfortunately. But one thing never changed. God’s enveloping love. No matter what came against him, how alone he felt, how often he wanted to give up, Paul rested in the absolute truth of God’s unfailing love. He was convinced of it. He knew it. Believed it. No matter what was going on around him, Paul was persuaded that God’s love surrounded him, walked with him, went before him. Always. Nothing could separate him from it. Not his former sins. Not his present situation. And he penned these words to the church of Rome so the people then, and you and I now, could be just as convinced as he was. (II Corinthians 11:23-28; Acts 13-28; Romans 5:8; Hosea 11:4)
I don’t know about you, but something in the words that flow from Paul’s nib at the end of Romans 8 reaches out and catches my soul every time I read them. God is for me. Because He loves me, He takes up a stand beside me. No one and nothing can stand against me. No one can accuse me. No one can condemn me. And nothing, absolutely nothing, can separate me from His love. Ever. God’s love is permanent, not passing. It can never be taken away. Troubles will come. Issues will arise. Stress will abound. But the love of God in Christ Jesus will never be taken from me. I am victorious because of it. I believe it. I am convinced of it. I stand on it. Paul did. You can too. (Jeremiah 31:3; Isaiah 54:10: Romans 8:31-39; John 16:33)
No matter how difficult you find it to believe, God loves you. Right now. Right where you are. In your sin. In your situation. In your unbelief. God loves you. From the boardroom to the bordello, the pulpit to the prison, God loves you. On your worst day. On your best day. When family abandons you and friends fail you, when people speak evil about you and turn the world against you, God’s love remains steady and strong. It is unshakeable, there today, tomorrow, and always. Nothing will ever change that fact. Nothing in life or death. Nothing on earth or heaven. No human. No angel. No evil power sent from hell to trouble and challenge you. Not even your own ridiculousness. Nothing can separate us from the love of God. Nothing is greater than the power of His love for us. Everything around us may crumble and fall. Everyone around us may walk away. But God’s love will always be there. It will never leave. Paul was convinced. So am I.
I don’t know where you are today. Maybe you haven’t had your Damascus road experience. Maybe you have. Maybe you are currently bogged in difficult circumstances that have you wondering if God’s love has worn out, grown tired, or expired. It hasn’t. It never will. It can’t. God’s love is eternal. Unfailing. Steadfast. Strong. Nothing can separate you from His love. Not earthly chaos. Not emotional upset. Not spiritual missteps. God’s love is not tempestuous and temperamental. It is transcendent. Over your sin. Over your circumstances. Over yourself. Over the temptations, trials, and troubles you are facing today. Over the fears of tomorrow and the failures of yesterday. God’s love covers it all. Your past. Your present. Your future. Do you believe it? Are you persuaded? Are you convinced? (I Corinthians 13:8; Psalm 33:22; 103:8; 136:1; Lamentations 3:22-23; I John 3:1; 4:19)