by Charles R. Swindoll

Read Acts 9:10–16

If you haven’t yet done so, stand for a few moments in Ananias’s sandals. Understand how difficult it would have been to see how God’s plan could possibly work. How in the world could God take a man known for such vicious, merciless, and murderous treatment of innocent Christians and turn him into an ambassador for Christ? Perhaps Ananias failed to hear the answer in the Lord’s Word to him: “But the Lord said to him, ‘Go, for he is a chosen instrument of Mine, to bear My name before the Gentiles and kings and the sons of Israel; for I will show him how much he must suffer for My name’s sake’ ”
(Acts 9:15–16).

God’s answer to Ananias’s question is clear: “I will show him how much he must suffer for My name’s sake.”

Suffering. Down through the centuries it has been God’s taming ground for raging bulls. The crucible of pain and hardship is God’s schoolroom where Christians learn humility, compassion, character, patience, and grace. It’s true for you and for me, and it would soon be true for Saul. Years later, with scars to prove it and under the pile of heavy ministry responsibilities, he gave testimony that suffering had been his companion.

I don’t understand all the reasons we suffer for the Name. But I’m convinced of this: it is part of God’s sovereign plan to prepare us to be His instruments of grace to a harsh and desperate world. Clearly, that was God’s plan for Saul. On his body would be the enduring stripes of his suffering—imprisonment, severe beatings, stonings, shipwreck, near-drowning, ambushes, robberies, insomnia, starvation, loneliness, disease, dehydration, extreme hypothermia. Beyond all that, he faced the stressful, inescapable responsibilities of church leadership. Each painful, awful ordeal brought him to his knees, turning him into a deeper man of grace, humbly committed to following his Savior’s lead.

What have you suffered for the name of Christ?

Excerpted from Charles R. Swindoll, Great Days with the Great Lives (Nashville: W Publishing Group, 2005). Copyright © 2005 by Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

Article source: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DailyDevo/~3/MicnwyPZoNM/a-chosen-instrument.html

by Charles R. Swindoll

Read Acts 9:5–9; Acts 26:12–15 

God goaded and prodded the stubborn pride of Saul—that Pharisaic ox. Day after day he kicked against those goads, until finally he got the message. There would be no more running. No more hiding. The fight was over. As always, God won.

C. S. Lewis likened God’s conquering work of Saul’s rebel will to a divine chess player: systematically, patiently maneuvering his opponent into a corner until finally he concedes. “Checkmate.”

Like Saul, we’re no match for God. Checkmate is inevitable. It’s no game either. God will do whatever it takes to bring us to a point of absolute dependence on Him. He will relentlessly, patiently, faithfully goad until we finally and willingly submit to Him.

You’re probably not a notorious criminal. I know that. More important, God knows that. Your life may be morally clean. Let’s face it, you may qualify as the finest person on your block. You don’t cheat on your taxes or deliberately lie to your partner. You may have never committed what we would call a scandalous act, to say nothing of seriously hurting someone you love. You’re living a life that’s impressive to others, but you are light years from being righteous before God. Until you’ve surrendered your life to Christ, you’re as lost as Saul was on the Damascus road.

If you’ve never made that decision, what a great moment this would be if you’d set this reading aside, bow your heart before the living Christ at this tender moment, and receive Him as your Savior.

You may have been a Christian for some time, but you’re clinging to the reins of your own rebel will. You need to know that God will goad you too. Sooner or later He’ll get your attention. No matter what it takes. He’ll bring you to a place in your life where you realize there’s no point in continuing to kick against the goads.

Don’t wait for a storm. By then it may be too late. Settle it today on your knees. Give God complete control. Stop your own Damascus Road journey today. Like Saul, surrender. And like Saul, you’ll never regret it.

Excerpted from Charles R. Swindoll, Great Days with the Great Lives (Nashville: W Publishing Group, 2005). Copyright © 2005 by Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

Article source: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DailyDevo/~3/hpTnkkhSj-Y/god-wins.html

by Charles R. Swindoll

Read Acts 9:5–9; Acts 26:12–15

Apparently, “to kick against the goads” was a common expression found in both Greek and Latin literature—a rural image, which rose from the practice of farmers goading their oxen in the fields. Though unfamiliar to us, everyone in that day understood its meaning.

Goads were typically made from slender pieces of timber, blunt on one end and pointed on the other. Farmers used the pointed end to urge a stubborn ox into motion. Occasionally, the beast would kick at the goad. The more the ox kicked, the more likely the goad would stab into the flesh of its leg, causing greater pain.

Saul’s conversion could appear to us as having been a sudden encounter with Christ. But based on the Lord’s expression regarding his kicking back, I believe He’d been working on him for years, prodding and goading him.

I believe the words and works of Jesus haunted the zealous Pharisee. Quite likely, Saul had heard Jesus teach and preach in public places. Similar in age, they would have been contemporaries in a city Saul knew well and Jesus frequently visited.

Imagine Saul (the name Paul means “small,” suggesting he may have been shorter than average), standing on tiptoe, straining to watch Jesus, all the while grudgingly wondering how this false prophet could be gaining popularity. Nonsense. He has to be of Satan! Pharisees loved to think that. Nevertheless, Jesus’s ministry stuck in Saul’s mind. The more it goaded him, the more he resisted God’s proddings.

Once you’ve seriously encountered Jesus, as Saul did, there’s no escaping Him. His words and works follow you deep within your conscience. That’s why I encourage people who are intensifying their efforts to resist the Gospels’ claims to study the life of Christ—to examine carefully His captivating words. Most people who sincerely pursue them can’t leave Him without at least reevaluating their lives.

Excerpted from Charles R. Swindoll, Great Days with the Great Lives (Nashville: W Publishing Group, 2005). Copyright © 2005 by Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

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by Charles R. Swindoll

Read Acts 9:1–4 

The essence of genuine repentance is that the mind does a turnaround. The Greek word is metanoia, meaning, literally, “to change one’s mind.” That’s precisely what happened to the once-proud Pharisee on the road to Damascus. So many things within Saul’s thinking changed—and changed completely. He changed his mind about God, about Jesus, about the Resurrection, about those who followed Christ. He must have shaken his head for days. He thought Christ was dead. Now he was convinced Jesus was alive. This One who knew his name also knew what he’d been doing. The raging rebel had finally met his match, and there was no place or way to hide.

Now let me pause to clarify something important. Some Christians try to impose their rigid system of dos and don’ts on the issue of conversion. I want to caution against that sort of exercise. It’s impossible to find any single place in Scripture that reveals the one-and-only way every sinner comes to Christ. While the message of the Gospel is the same, methods differ. We are so conditioned by denominational backgrounds, religious traditionalism, and narrow-thinking prejudice, we miss the point of God’s grace. We tend to require more than God does! Be careful about exacting requirements on someone who genuinely turns to the Savior.

Lost people are saved while listening to a great song about Christ or while hearing a preacher or Bible teacher explaining God’s Word from a pulpit or over television or on the radio. Others are saved during a small-group Bible study. Many come to Him on their own, while praying in the privacy of their homes. Day or night a sinner can call on the Lord Jesus Christ in faith and be saved. Let’s stop making it so complicated. As it happened with Saul, grace abounds.

Regardless of exactly when Saul was converted, he realized that the living Jesus, whom he had hated and denied his entire life, was now his Savior and Lord.

Is He your Savior and Lord too?

Excerpted from Charles R. Swindoll, Great Days with the Great Lives (Nashville: W Publishing Group, 2005). Copyright © 2005 by Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

Article source: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DailyDevo/~3/G_6Ul_ajxf8/a-quick-turnaround.html

by Charles R. Swindoll

Read Acts 9:1–4 

For more than three decades, Saul controlled his own life. His record in Judaism ranked second to none. On his way to make an even greater name for himself, the laser of God’s presence stopped him in his tracks, striking him blind. Like that group of shepherds faithfully watching their sheep years earlier on another significant night outside Jerusalem, Saul and his companions fell to the ground, stunned.

That’s what still happens today when calamity strikes. You get the news in the middle of the night on the telephone, and you can’t move. As the policeman describes the head-on collision, you stand frozen in disbelief. After hearing the word “cancer,” you’re so shocked you can hardly walk out the doctor’s office doors. A friend once admitted to me that, after hearing his dreaded diagnosis, he stumbled to the men’s room, vomited, dropped to his knees, and sobbed uncontrollably. Life’s unexpected jolts grip us with such fear we can scarcely go on.

For the first time in his proud, self-sustained life, Saul found himself a desperate dependent. Not only was he pinned to the ground, he was blind. His other senses were on alert and, to his amazement, he heard a voice from heaven say, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me?” (Acts 9:4). Saul was convinced he had been persecuting people—cultic followers of a false Messiah. Instead, he discovered that the true object of his vile brutality was Christ Himself.

We live in a culture that regularly confuses humanity with deity. The lines get blurred. It’s the kind of sloppy theology that suggests God sits on the edge of heaven thinking, Wonder what they’ll do next. How absurd! God is omniscient—all-knowing. This implies, clearly, that God never learns anything, our sinful decisions and evil deeds notwithstanding. Nothing ever surprises Him. From the moment we’re conceived to the moment we die, we remain safely within the frame of His watchful gaze and His sovereign plan for us.

Excerpted from Charles R. Swindoll, Great Days with the Great Lives (Nashville: W Publishing Group, 2005). Copyright © 2005 by Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

Article source: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DailyDevo/~3/dGVH5p_GeeE/no-surprises.html

by Charles R. Swindoll

Read Acts 9:1–4

The ninth chapter of Acts begins abruptly. Saul’s blood is boiling. He’s on a murderous rampage toward Damascus. He charged north out of Jerusalem with the fury of Alexander the Great sweeping across Persia and the determined resolve of William Tecumseh Sherman in his scorching march across Georgia. Saul was borderline out of control. His fury had intensified almost to the point of no return. Such bloodthirsty determination and blind hatred for the followers of Christ drove him hard toward his distant destination: Damascus. If you were a follower of Jesus living anywhere near Jerusalem, you wouldn’t have wanted to hear Saul’s knock at your door.

We read this: “As he was traveling, it happened that he was approaching Damascus, and suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him; and he fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me?’ ” (Acts 9:3–4). You can almost hear the screeching of brakes. At that moment, Saul’s murderous journey was brought to a divine halt.

Suddenly. Isn’t that just like the Lord? No announcement ahead of time. No heavenly calligraphy scrolled across the skies with the warning, “Watch out tomorrow, Saul, God’s gonna getcha.” God remained silent and restrained as Saul proceeded with his murderous plan to invade Damascus. Surely he discussed the details with his companions. God didn’t interrupt . . . until. At the hour it would have its greatest impact, God stepped in. Without warning, the course of Saul’s life changed dramatically.

That still happens, even in our day. Without warning, life takes its sudden turns. Maybe it’s a tragic auto accident that claims the life of your mate. Suddenly, God steps onto the scene and arrests your attention. Or it may come through the death of a child. In the hour of deepest grief, your life and the lives of your family are impacted forever. Occasionally, life’s unexpected turns come in the horrible crash of an airplane, causing a calamity that wipes out half a neighborhood. Or in the halting words of your physician as she admits, “You have cancer.” Like a rogue wave, adversity crashes onto the peaceful shores of our lives and knocks us flat. Amazingly, the jolt awakens our senses, and we suddenly remember that God is in control, no matter what.

Excerpted from Charles R. Swindoll, Great Days with the Great Lives (Nashville: W Publishing Group, 2005). Copyright © 2005 by Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

Article source: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DailyDevo/~3/VLNDAmV83vU/roadside-conversion.html

by Charles R. Swindoll

Read Acts 9:1–4

The ninth chapter of Acts begins abruptly. Saul’s blood is boiling. He’s on a murderous rampage toward Damascus. He charged north out of Jerusalem with the fury of Alexander the Great sweeping across Persia and the determined resolve of William Tecumseh Sherman in his scorching march across Georgia. Saul was borderline out of control. His fury had intensified almost to the point of no return. Such bloodthirsty determination and blind hatred for the followers of Christ drove him hard toward his distant destination: Damascus. If you were a follower of Jesus living anywhere near Jerusalem, you wouldn’t have wanted to hear Saul’s knock at your door.

We read this: “As he was traveling, it happened that he was approaching Damascus, and suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him; and he fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me?’ ” (Acts 9:3–4). You can almost hear the screeching of brakes. At that moment, Saul’s murderous journey was brought to a divine halt.

Suddenly. Isn’t that just like the Lord? No announcement ahead of time. No heavenly calligraphy scrolled across the skies with the warning, “Watch out tomorrow, Saul, God’s gonna getcha.” God remained silent and restrained as Saul proceeded with his murderous plan to invade Damascus. Surely he discussed the details with his companions. God didn’t interrupt . . . until. At the hour it would have its greatest impact, God stepped in. Without warning, the course of Saul’s life changed dramatically.

That still happens, even in our day. Without warning, life takes its sudden turns. Maybe it’s a tragic auto accident that claims the life of your mate. Suddenly, God steps onto the scene and arrests your attention. Or it may come through the death of a child. In the hour of deepest grief, your life and the lives of your family are impacted forever. Occasionally, life’s unexpected turns come in the horrible crash of an airplane, causing a calamity that wipes out half a neighborhood. Or in the halting words of your physician as she admits, “You have cancer.” Like a rogue wave, adversity crashes onto the peaceful shores of our lives and knocks us flat. Amazingly, the jolt awakens our senses, and we suddenly remember that God is in control, no matter what.

Excerpted from Charles R. Swindoll, Great Days with the Great Lives (Nashville: W Publishing Group, 2005). Copyright © 2005 by Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

Article source: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DailyDevo/~3/VLNDAmV83vU/roadside-conversion.html

by Charles R. Swindoll

Read Acts 5:33–38

William Barclay calls Gamaliel an “unexpected ally.” In the midst of flaring tempers and irrational thinking, this wise, seasoned teacher calmly rose to his feet and warned, “Take care here. Don’t rush to judgment.” In his words: “Stay away from these men and let them alone, for if this plan or action is of men, it will be overthrown; but if it is of God, you will not be able to overthrow them; or else you may even be found fighting against God” (Acts 5:38–39).

The young Pharisee [Saul] shook his head in disbelief. “This man was supposed to be a spokesman for Judaism. He taught me much of what I know about Judaism and the Law. He schooled me in how to do precisely what I’m doing. Master Gamaliel, you’ve lost your mind!”

Saul, of course, had no way of knowing that it would be this sort of calm reasoning that would hold him together when he later carried the torch for Christ. He would remind himself that those who fight against him were really fighting God. But at this moment he knew none of that. All he saw was red. Blood red. He couldn’t believe the Sanhedrin would heed such calm counsel and consider going soft on these infidels. Bu that’s exactly what they did.

If you would allow me a moment of digression here, I think Peter remained alive then and in the years that followed because of Gamaliel’s wise intervention. I think this “unexpected ally” saved his life. Saul and the rest of them would have stoned the whole bunch. But God graciously intervened through Gamaliel. He used the words of a wise professor to preserve the lives of those who would later play strategic roles in the formation of his Christian church. Keep that in mind when you feel your circumstances have become hopeless. No matter what you face, God is still in control, silently and sovereignly working all things out according to His perfect plan. He has His Gamaliels waiting in the wings. At the precise moment when their words will have the greatest impact, they will step out of the shadows and onto the stage to deliver their life-saving words.

Excerpted from Charles R. Swindoll, Great Days with the Great Lives (Nashville: W Publishing Group, 2005). Copyright © 2005 by Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

Article source: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DailyDevo/~3/kTXeZafSSt4/an-unexpected-ally.html

by Charles R. Swindoll

Read Acts 5:29–32; 8:1–3

We must not forget that as we study the life of the man they called Paul. We must also brace ourselves for some rather gruesome surprises. The first pen portrait of Paul (whom we first meet as Saul of Tarsus) is both brutal and bloody. If an artist were to render it with brush and oils, not one of us would want it hung framed in our living room. The man looks more like a terrorist than a devout follower of Judaism. To our horror, the blood of the first martyr splattered across Saul’s clothes while he stood nodding in agreement, an accomplice to a vicious crime.

Throughout our lives we’ve naturally adopted a Christianized mental image of the apostle Paul. After all, he’s the one who gave us both letters to the Corinthians. He wrote Romans, the Magna Carta of the Christian life. He penned that liberating letter to the Galatians exhorting them and us to live in the freedom God’s grace provides. And he wrote the Prison Epistles and the Pastoral Letters so full of wisdom, so rich with relevance. Based on all that, you’d think the man loved the Savior from birth. Not even close.

He hated the name of Jesus. So much so, he became a self-avowed, violent aggressor, persecuting and killing Christians in allegiance to the God of heaven. Shocking though it may seem, we must never forget the pit from which he came. The better we understand the darkness of his past, the more we will understand his deep gratitude for grace.

The first portrait of Paul’s life painted in Holy Scripture is not of a little baby being lovingly cradled in his mother’s arms. Nor does it depict a Jewish lad leaping and bounding with neighborhood buddies through the narrow streets of Tarsus. The original portrait is not even of a brilliant, young law student sitting faithfully at the feet of Gamaliel. Those images would only mislead us into thinking he enjoyed a storybook past. Instead, we first meet him as simply a “young man named Saul,” party to Stephen’s brutal murder, standing “in hearty agreement with putting him to death” (Acts 7:58; 8:1).

That’s the realistic Saul we need to see in order to truly appreciate the glorious truths of the New Testament letters he wrote. No wonder he later came to be known as the “apostle of grace.”

Excerpted from Charles R. Swindoll, Great Days with the Great Lives (Nashville: W Publishing Group, 2005). Copyright © 2005 by Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

Article source: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DailyDevo/~3/ASPbgl7Ywac/a-brutal-beginning.html

by Charles R. Swindoll

Read Matthew 5:13–16

Since God has called us to be His salt-and-light servants in a bland, dark society, it will be necessary for us to commit ourselves to the task before us. Remember, salt must not lose its taste, and light must not be hidden. In order to keep us on target, let me suggest three statements that declare and describe how to fulfill this role.

1. “I am different.”

Probably the greatest tragedy of Christianity through its changing and checkered history has been our tendency to become like the world rather than completely different from it. The prevailing culture has sucked us in like a huge vacuum cleaner, and we have done an amazing job of conforming.

But servants are to be different. As one man put it, “as different as chalk is from cheese.” As different as salt is from decayed meat . . . as light is from the depths of Carlsbad Caverns. No veneer, remember. We are authentically different.

2. “I am responsible.”

If I read Jesus’s words correctly, I see more than being salt and light. I am responsible for my salt not losing its bite and my light not becoming obscure or hidden. Every once in a while it is helpful to ask some very hard questions of myself. True servants do more than talk. We refuse to become the “rabbit-hole Christians” John Stott speaks of, popping out of our holes and racing from our insulated caves to all-Christian gatherings only to rush back again. For salt to be tasted and for light to be seen, we must make contact. We are personally responsible.

3. “I am influential.”

Let’s not kid ourselves. The very fact that we belong to Christ—that we don’t adopt the system, that we march to a different drumbeat—gives us an influence in this society of ours. Maybe the quaint old “keeper of the spring” was not seen very much, but his role meant survival to that village in the Alps. We are influencing others even when we aren’t trying to act “religious” or preach from a soapbox.

Excerpted from Charles R. Swindoll, Improving Your Serve: The Art of Unselfish Living (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1981), 133–34. Copyright © 1981 by Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide. Used by permission.

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