Boy, this is an old one, isn’t it? Can you hear the bones pop and crack in this one? All the skin is wrinkled and sagging. The bite in this story is no longer sharp and precise. It’s an old story, and I suppose we shouldn’t expect too much from it anymore. I mean, this one has been worked to death for two thousand years.

I suspect it’s about time for a decent retirement service, don’t you think? Once upon a time, this story did a lot of heavy lifting for the church, but now ...

The conversion of Saul. Damascus road experience, blah, blah, blah. Who really cares?

I have to admit, when I was reading the text for this Sunday, I thought, “Oh no. Not this one. Nobody cares about this one anymore." The flash is gone, isn’t it?

All right. If we must. What’s this story about anyway?

Well, there’s the ancient Near Eastern Ebenezer Scrooge going to Damascus to hassle some more Christians. When he sees a bright light and hears a voice, he transforms into a nice guy, ready to buy a turkey and all the fixin’s for Bob Cratchett and Tiny Tim. Big deal.

But you know, if that’s all we hear, then we haven’t really understood this story. This story is much more cosmic in its aspirations. For the early Christians who read it, this story changed reality. Something monumental shifted in the world for the early church when Saul fell to his knees on that road.

Think about it. Ananias lost sleep over it.

Imagine you’re a German rabbi in 1944, lying in your straw bed one night—out in a barn of a local who’s conscience hasn’t been completely cauterized by Nazi propaganda. You live your life trying to escape the attention of the Gestapo. You’re afraid, hearing the telltale sounds of your certain doom in every cracking twig.

You fall into a fitful sleep, knowing that tomorrow will hold the same fear as today. Suddenly, you begin to dream, and God says to you, “Get up, go to Berlin, and look for a man named Adolph Hitler. At this moment, he is praying, and he has seen a vision of you coming in to lay hands on him so that he might regain his sight.”

Or how about this? You’re minding your own business, tending to the needs of your small parish in Aguas Calientes, Mexico, when out of nowhere, God whispers in your ear, “Pack your bags. You need to go to Washington, D.C.”

“But Lord, I don’t have a green card, no visa.”

And God says, “All the better. There’s a man there with a bad haircut who’s made a political living off of hating Mexicans. But he’s had a change of heart. He’ll be expecting you.”

What do you say?

“Um, excuse me?"

See what I mean? As soon as Saul fell to his knees on that Damascus road, the world changed for him in a flash. But his run-in with Jesus on the road to Damascus would have seismic shockwaves for the newly established church. Life as everyone knew it was completely altered.

But 2000 years removed, it’s almost impossible to grasp the huge implications of this story for the young and frightened Jesus movement. We’ve managed to domesticate it, sand off all the rough edges, smooth the sharp corners.

Nowadays, “Damascus road” functions mostly as a metaphor when referring to an individual change of heart. A nifty little conversion story that we learn because we have to, but it doesn’t make any real difference in the world of iPhones, globalization, self-driving cars, and the uncertainty on Wall Street.

But, you see, it really is more than that. This story is more than a reworked version of the princess kissing the toad. It’s more compelling than your average rags-to-riches story.

The story of Saul on the Damascus road is only a prelude to the real story. It grabs our attention, sure. I mean, think of the irony involved. Saul, who thinks he’s got God pretty well figured out, heads to Damascus on what he figures is the Lord’s business. Saul, better than anyone, knows God’s mind. He knows exactly whom God hates. His bloodstained hands are a testament to his piety and devotion.