Acts 9:13–16 (NIV)

13 "Lord," Ananias answered, "I have heard many reports about this man and all the harm he has done to your holy people in Jerusalem. 14 And he has come here with authority from the chief priests to arrest all who call on your name."

15 But the Lord said to Ananias, "Go! This man is my chosen instrument to proclaim my name to the Gentiles and their kings and to the people of Israel. 16 I will show him how much he must suffer for my name."

Saul has been struck blind on the road to Damascus. Now the Lord speaks to a believer in that city named Ananias and tells him to go and lay hands on Saul so he can see again. And Ananias hesitates.

Read his objection carefully, because it is important that we not treat it as a lack of faith. Ananias is not confused. He is not making it up. Everything he says is true.

"I have heard many reports about this man." Saul has done "harm to your holy people in Jerusalem." He has come to Damascus "with authority from the chief priests to arrest all who call on your name." That last line is almost unbearable. To "call on your name" is simply to be a Christian. Ananias calls on that name. So what he is really saying is: Lord, this is the man who came here to arrest me.

He is right about all of it. Saul is dangerous. Saul has hurt people Ananias loves. This is not paranoia — it is the plain record. And God does not correct a single fact.

God's answer to Ananias is not an argument. He does not say, "You have it wrong about Saul." He does not soften the record or explain it away. He says one word first: "Go!"

That is worth sitting with. Sometimes we wait for God to resolve every fear before we will move. We want the danger explained, the risk removed, the whole picture made safe. Ananias gets none of that. He gets a command and a reason, and the reason is not about his safety at all. It is about what God has decided to do with Saul.

The record about Saul is true. It is just no longer the most important truth about him. God is holding a truth that Ananias cannot see yet, and He asks Ananias to act on God's word rather than on his own well-founded fear.

Here is the truth God is holding. "This man is my chosen instrument."

Chosen. Not tolerated. Not given a second chance and put on probation. Chosen. The word means picked out on purpose, selected for a task. God is not making the best of a bad situation with Saul. God has decided, deliberately, to use this man.

And the word "instrument" is honest about what that means. An instrument is a tool in someone else's hand. A hammer does not build the house; the builder does. Saul is going to do enormous things, but he will be a tool through which God works, not the one who makes it happen. The whole of Saul's power will be borrowed power. That is true of every one of us who is used by God. We are instruments. The strength is not ours.

Think about who this instrument is. Yesterday he was arresting Christians. God does not look at Saul's past and see a disqualification. God looks at Saul and sees an instrument He intends to use. The very thing that made Ananias afraid — Saul's fierce, single-minded drive — is the thing God will now turn toward proclaiming His name. Nothing is wasted. Even the zeal that had been aimed at the church gets picked up, turned around, and used.

Look at how far God sends this instrument. "To proclaim my name to the Gentiles and their kings and to the people of Israel."

The Gentiles. The kings. Israel. That is the whole world Saul knows, all of it, top to bottom. The man who tried to keep the name of Jesus contained inside Jerusalem will carry that name out to nations and rulers he has never met. God does not choose Saul for a small, quiet role that keeps him safely out of the way. He chooses him for the widest reach imaginable.

We tend to think God gives the big assignments to the people with the cleanest history. This says the opposite. The one with the worst record is handed the largest field. Grace is not cautious. When God restores someone, He is not nervous about it. He sends him to kings.

And then the last line, which is strange, and which we should not skip. "I will show him how much he must suffer for my name."

Notice what God promises Saul. Not comfort. Not an easy road as a reward for turning around. He promises suffering. The very name Saul persecuted — "call on your name," "arrest all who call on your name" — is now the name Saul will suffer for. The thing he caused, he will carry.

This is hard, and I do not want to make it soft. Being chosen by God is not the same as being spared. Saul's life from here is prison, beatings, shipwreck, and finally death. God tells him this at the start. He does not hide the cost to get Saul on board.

But hold it next to the word "chosen." The suffering is not punishment for his past. It is part of the calling. It is what it will cost to carry this name to kings. God thinks Saul is worth that, and He thinks the name is worth that. To be a chosen instrument and to suffer for the name are, here, the same sentence. God does not separate them, and neither should we.

There are two people in this passage, and you may be either one today.

You may be Ananias, asked to go toward someone the record says is dangerous, or difficult, or beyond hope. God is not asking you to pretend the record is false. He is asking whether you will trust that He might be holding a truth about that person you cannot see yet. Is there someone you have written off whom God has not?

Or you may be Saul — someone with a past that feels like a disqualification, waiting for God to hold it against you. Hear the word over him: chosen. Not tolerated. Chosen, on purpose, for a task, with the old zeal turned to a new use and nothing wasted. What if the very thing you are most ashamed of is the thing God intends to turn around and use?

And if you are being used, stay honest about the two words that come together here. Chosen, and suffer. The calling is real, and so is its cost. God tells us both at the start, because He would rather we walk in with our eyes open than be surprised on the road.

All glory to God — forever and ever. Amen. 🤍

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