Who says the strident voice cannot be turned,
hostile heart not changed?
Is human thought set in everlasting stone?
There was a man named Saul—
Who are these wretches, he wondered,
who follow that strange man
who had such peculiar ideas?
Didn't we dispose of him over on that hill?
We know what we believe
and do not care to change.
If a man be sick, little can we do.
If he sins, well, don't we have Moses?
Would these infidels exceed our temple?
With cruel warrants, Saul scoured the country.
"Disciples of the Lord" were
maligned
charged in the courts
compelled to blaspheme
imprisoned
put to death.
Saul was "exceedingly mad," he later said.
But something changed him.
There came an about-face unmatched in human history—
and unmatched was the Light
that humbled him that day on Syrian sands—
it outshone hatred
blinded him to an old world
unsealed his eyes to Christ
transformed sword to scepter.
The something that changed Saul was the Christ—
purging ignorance
forgiving wrongs
divine warrant in hand: new job, new name.
So Paul, "a chosen vessel,"
poured forth
with new turn of voice
and gracious heart.
The Light still shines.
Who today cannot be changed?
