Setting the Table with Prayer Deut. 10:12-20, Acts 9:1-19

It is a Christmas Eve tradition in Poland
to have dinner together with all the family gathered around,
and to place a lighted candle in the window
in the hope that the Christ child in the form of a stranger
will see the light and come join the meal.
No matter how large the family or how cramped the conditions,
an empty place is always set to allow room for the stranger.

Like all traditions, this one could lose its meaning over time
as one generation fades into the next.
That would be a shame, because setting a place at the table for the stranger
reflects two basic and essential aspects of the way God has chosen
to work in the lives of God’s people
Starting all the way back with Sarah and Abraham
God has chosen to work in two elemental ways:
1. God likes to work in our lives through other people.
That’s why an empty place is set. If God appears on Christmas Eve
it will not be as an apparition, a ghost, but a flesh and blood human being
2. God likes to surprise us by working in our lives through people
whom we would least expect to be instruments of divine intervention.
That’s why the place is not set for a halo-ed infant but for a stranger.

I bring this up because these two themes: God works through other people
God works through surprising people
are also reflected in the story of Saul
AND they are themes that we in America tend to resist.
The way we express our faith, like everything else we do in our culture
is colored by our affection for the heroic individual.
We like to imagine we can go it alone.
We’re not SUPPOSED to need anyone else.
And, in these days when we’re told in airports not to even THINK about
leaving our luggage unattended,
we surely aren’t crazy about welcoming strangers.

Our affinity for rugged individualism definitely affects how we read the Bible.
WE get so focused on the heroic individual, the MAIN character,
that we don’t even notice the supporting cast of the story.
We idealize the HERO of the story to the degree that we lose sight of the irony
that the “HEROES” of the Bible are often criminals, rogues and social outcasts.
If we saw their counterparts on the street today
we would gingerly reach over and lock all the car doors!
And we CERTAINLY either downplay or ignore the fact
that in the Bible nobody ever goes it alone.
Our story this morning about Saul’s blinding experience on the road to Damascus
is a case in point.

Saul, whom we later come to know as Paul, initially comes to our attention
as Stephen, the first martyr of the church,
is being stoned to death by Jews who are threatened by this new sect
within Judaism that proclaims Jesus as the Messiah.
Saul is identified in the story as the young man who holds the coats
of those who pick up stones against Stephen.

Later, we suddenly become aware that Saul is “ravaging the church”
by entering house after house; dragging off both men and women,
and putting them in prison.

Saul, it seems, is one of those most dangerous of religious people –
one who has no doubt whatsoever that God is on his side.
Unable to imagine that God would NOT approve of his zealous campaign,
Saul sets to work with a single minded devotion to rid Judaism
of the corrupting effect of those who are part of the Jesus phenomenon;
those who have started calling their movement simply, “The Way.”

In chapter nine Luke picks up his account of Saul’s activities
reporting that, “still breathing threats and murder against the disciples”
Saul went to the high priest in Jerusalem asking for letters of introduction
to the synagogues of Damascus giving Saul authority to snatch up
any whom he may find in that teeming city who were part of “The Way.”

Now, Damascus is 145 miles from Jerusalem
so that gives us an idea of the depth of Saul’s obsession.
He is a righteous Pharisee
who sees it as his duty to purify his people and he will go to any lengths to do so.
It was on the outskirts of Damascus that Saul has what’s become known
as his “Damascus Road Conversion.”
A light flashed, he falls to the ground,
and he and those who are with him hear a voice saying,
“Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?
“Who are you, Lord?” Saul sputters.
“I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.
But get up and enter the city and you will be told there what to do.”
The “Damascus Road conversion” has become part of our vocabulary.
Anytime anybody has an abrupt change of mind about anything -
religion, politics, even feelings about a particular song or color of paint -
it’s referred to as a that person’s “Damascus Road.”
But especially in a sweaty auditorium or in a large, canvass tent
when the revival preacher strikes a chord
that reverberates deep in the heart of a hardened reprobate
and that lost soul who is beyond all human intervention
lurches forward and kneels at the throne of grace
and all who are gathered in that place lift their hands in praise to God
for the swift and sudden salvation of such a sinner
we think of sorry old Saul, that enemy numero uno
down on his knees in the dust.

It is no doubt a big turn-around for Saul, that Pharisee among Pharisees.
One minute he’s God’s one-man wrecking crew,
Heaven’s own hammer ready to come down hard on those Jesus Freaks
cracking heads and naming names.
The next minute he’s pudding – blind, confused, shaken to the bone.
It’s a dramatic scene.
Think of the special effects they could use if someone made it into a movie.
But, contrary to what we’ve thought,
contrary to the way this “Damascus Road” experience
has become central to our religious and even our secular language,
the flash of light, the Divine voice and Saul falling to his knees
is not the climax of the story.
Sure, it’s the scene all the artist’s paint,
the scene people think about when they think of “conversion”
BUT IT’S NOT THE CLIMAX OF THE STORY!
It’s only part of the story, one half of the story, maybe.
It’s the REST of the story that has the real drama.

When we read the book of Acts, we tend to look for the bold strokes –
the car chases, the explosions –
but it’s the more subtle elements that often carry the real power.
Contrary to popular opinion, Saul was not converted on the road to Damascus,
he was only softened up a little.
It apparently took a flash of light, a divine voice, and losing his sight
just to get his attention.
Saul’s conversion wasn’t complete until Ananias came to him,
put his hand on Saul’s shoulder and called him “Brother.”

Ananias is, on one level, just a bit player in the Biblical story;
but think of the consequences if he doesn’t live out his faith.
On the one hand, we could say God has the power to get the job done
with or without Ananias.
But, on the other hand, we can certainly say
that Ananias is THE critical linchpin in God’s plan
that enables Saul to become Paul and become God’s primary instrument
in the growth and development of the church.
It is his incredible courage and obedience
that allows him to seek out this man Saul who, for all he knows,
will bind him on sight and drag him back to Jerusalem.
How did he get such courage?

Since this whole summer we are looking at the place of prayer in the book of Acts
now is a good time to point out that both Ananias and Saul
are in the act of praying when they begin to sort out what God is up to.
Paul is praying because he’s confused and scared and has just heard the voice
of the very one who’s followers he’s been persecuting.
Ananias is just going about his daily habits and routine.
In prayer, each man is in a posture of expectancy.
That’s what prayer does. It allows us a moment away from the clatter and clamor
so we can listen for and hear God’s word to us.
In prayer, each man is open to direction from God.
And they are willing to consider God’s direction, even when it doesn’t make sense.

Ananias hears and obeys God’s direction and he goes to Saul.
Saul regains his sight and is filled with God’s Spirit.
He gets up and Ananias baptizes him.
He eats and is strengthened.
This is hardly a climax made for the big screen.
It doesn’t fit our idea of a dramatic ending.
The power of this scene is subtle, but it’s unmistakable.
In God’s divine plan, two men who are strangers to one another,
are united in prayer and become instruments of grace in each other’s life.
One finds his life altered dramatically, a 180 degree turnaround.
The other simply continues on the same path
but richer for the experience.

People will still speak of Saul’s Damascus Road experience,
but you and I know the real truth.
The power of God was not in the light, not in the voice, not in the blindness.
The power of God was in Ananias’ courageous act of obedience.
It was in his willingness to set an empty place at his table.
It was in his willingness to welcome a stranger.
As we come to Christ’s table, let us do the same.