The Divine Arrest and the Great Commission Text: Acts 26:12-18
Introduction: When God Tackles a Man
We live in an age that prizes autonomy above all else. The modern man believes he is the captain of his own soul, the master of his own fate. He imagines his will to be sovereign, and his choices to be the ultimate determining factor of his destiny. He wants a God, if he wants one at all, who is a polite consultant, a celestial butler who can be summoned or dismissed at his convenience. But the God of the Scriptures is not this kind of God. He is the sovereign Lord of heaven and earth, and He does not negotiate. He commands. He does not make suggestions; He makes decrees. And sometimes, in His staggering grace, He comes down and tackles a man running full tilt in the wrong direction.
This is precisely what we see in the testimony of the Apostle Paul before King Agrippa. Paul is not recounting a story of how he, after a long period of thoughtful soul searching, decided to change his religious affiliation. This is not the story of a man turning over a new leaf. This is the story of a divine invasion. This is a hostile takeover, a glorious conquest. Saul of Tarsus was a man with impeccable credentials, boundless zeal, and a cast iron will, and he was aiming all of it like a battering ram against the church of Jesus Christ. He was not seeking Jesus. He was persecuting Jesus. And right in the middle of his murderous errand, Jesus sought him.
What we have in this passage is more than just a fascinating biographical account. It is a paradigm of all true conversion. It is a raw display of the nature of God's authority, the power of His grace, and the radical reorientation that occurs when a man is transferred from the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of God's beloved Son. Paul, standing in chains before a king, is actually the freest man in the room, and he is explaining the nature of true authority to a man who only understands the flimsy, temporal authority of Rome. This is a clash of kingdoms, a clash of lords, played out in the testimony of one man whose life was violently interrupted by the blinding glory of the risen Christ.
As we work through this text, we must see that this is not just Paul's story. In its essential elements, it is the story of every single blood bought believer. God arrests us, He confronts us, He commissions us, and He sends us out with a purpose that is not our own. This is the pattern of grace, and it is as relevant today as it was on the road to Damascus.
The Text
"While so engaged as I was journeying to Damascus with the authority and commission of the chief priests, at midday, O King, I saw on the way a light from heaven, brighter than the sun, shining all around me and those who were journeying with me. And when we had all fallen to the ground, I heard a voice saying to me in the Hebrew language, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me? It is hard for you to kick against the goads.’ And I said, ‘Who are You, Lord?’ And the Lord said, ‘I am Jesus whom you are persecuting. But rise up and stand on your feet; for this purpose I have appeared to you, to appoint you a servant and a witness not only to the things which you have seen, but also to the things in which I will appear to you; rescuing you from the Jewish people and from the Gentiles, to whom I am sending you, to open their eyes so that they may turn from darkness to light and from the authority of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins and an inheritance among those who have been sanctified by faith in Me.’"
(Acts 26:12-18 LSB)
The Usurped Authority (v. 12-14)
Paul begins his account by establishing the nature of his previous mission. He was not a rogue agent; he was an official representative of the established religious authority.
"While so engaged as I was journeying to Damascus with the authority and commission of the chief priests, at midday, O King, I saw on the way a light from heaven, brighter than the sun, shining all around me and those who were journeying with me. And when we had all fallen to the ground, I heard a voice saying to me in the Hebrew language, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me? It is hard for you to kick against the goads.’" (Acts 26:12-14)
Saul was on official business. He had papers. He had the "authority and commission of the chief priests." He was an agent of the Sanhedrin, the highest religious court in the land. He was acting in the name of the God of Abraham, or so he thought. He was zealous for the law, zealous for the traditions of his fathers. But here we see a fundamental principle: you can be utterly sincere, you can be acting with the full backing of the most powerful human institutions, and you can be dead wrong. Human authority, even religious authority, is always derivative and subordinate. When it sets itself against the authority of God, it is no authority at all.
And so, the true authority intervenes. At midday, when the sun is at its peak, a light "brighter than the sun" appears. This is not a subjective, internal vision. This is an objective, external event. It is so powerful that it shines not just on Paul, but on everyone with him. It is so overwhelming that they all fall to the ground. This is the glory of the risen Christ, the Shekinah glory of God, breaking into history. This is not a gentle invitation; it is a celestial ambush. God does not send a memo. He sends a sun-crushing light that knocks everyone off their feet.
Then comes the voice, speaking in Hebrew, the language of the covenant. "Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me?" Notice the personal nature of the charge. Saul thought he was persecuting a rogue sect, a group of heretics who followed a crucified carpenter. But Jesus takes it personally. To strike the church is to strike Christ. Jesus is so identified with His people that their suffering is His suffering. This is the great mystery of the body of Christ. When you persecute a Christian for their faith, you are picking a fight with the enthroned King of the universe.
And then the devastating diagnosis: "It is hard for you to kick against the goads." A goad is a sharp stick used to prod an ox. The ox kicks back in defiance, but only succeeds in driving the spike deeper into its own flesh. Jesus is telling Saul, "Your rebellion is not hurting me. It is hurting you. Your zealous fury, your white-knuckled rage against my people, is a form of self-mutilation." This is profoundly true of all sin. Every act of rebellion against God is an act of cosmic stupidity. It is a creature shaking his fist at his Creator. It is an ox kicking the goad. It is a man sawing off the branch he is sitting on. Saul's conscience was already being pricked, likely by the testimony of men like Stephen, whose face shone like an angel's as he was being stoned. The goad was already in place, and Saul's persecuting rage was just his frantic, futile kicking.
The Sovereign Identification (v. 15)
Saul, flat on his back and blinded by the light, asks the most important question anyone can ask.
"And I said, ‘Who are You, Lord?’ And the Lord said, ‘I am Jesus whom you are persecuting.’" (Acts 26:15 LSB)
Saul knows he is dealing with a divine being. He uses the word "Lord" (Kurios). But he does not yet know who this Lord is. The answer must have hit him like a thunderclap. "I am Jesus." The very man he hated. The very name he was trying to stamp out. The crucified one. The supposed blasphemer. This Jesus was not dead in a tomb; He was alive, speaking from heaven, and radiating a glory that made the noon sun look like a flickering candle. In one sentence, Saul's entire worldview, his entire theological system, was utterly demolished.
Jesus of Nazareth, the one whom the chief priests had condemned and the Romans had executed, was in fact the Lord of Glory. The victim was the victor. The crucified was the crowned. This is the central fact of history, and it is the rock upon which every human soul either builds their life or is broken to pieces. Saul the persecutor was broken to pieces, so that God could rebuild him into Paul the apostle.
The Divine Commission (v. 16-18)
Jesus does not leave Paul on the ground. The same voice that struck him down now raises him up and gives him his marching orders. Grace does not just save us from something; it saves us for something.
"But rise up and stand on your feet; for this purpose I have appeared to you, to appoint you a servant and a witness not only to the things which you have seen, but also to the things in which I will appear to you..." (Acts 26:16 LSB)
The man who fell to the ground as a persecutor is commanded to rise as a servant and a witness. God does not call the qualified; He qualifies the called. Paul's entire ministry is to be a testimony, a bearing witness to what he has seen and what he will be shown. His authority will not come from the Sanhedrin, but from this direct encounter with the risen Christ. His message will not be his own opinion, but a faithful declaration of the revelation he receives.
And notice the scope of this commission. It is not just for his own people.
"...rescuing you from the Jewish people and from the Gentiles, to whom I am sending you, to open their eyes so that they may turn from darkness to light and from the authority of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins and an inheritance among those who have been sanctified by faith in Me.’" (Acts 26:17-18 LSB)
Jesus promises to rescue him, not from hardship, but through it. And He sends him to both Jews and Gentiles. This is the great mystery of the gospel that Paul would later expound in his epistles, that in Christ, the dividing wall of hostility has been torn down. But look at the chain of events that the gospel is meant to accomplish. This is the anatomy of salvation, the great spiritual transaction.
First, the mission is "to open their eyes." Unregenerate man is blind. He cannot see his own condition, and he cannot see the glory of God. The first work of the gospel, through the power of the Spirit, is to grant sight.
Second, once their eyes are opened, they are to "turn from darkness to light." This is repentance. It is a radical reorientation, a 180-degree turn from the realm of ignorance and sin to the realm of truth and righteousness.
Third, this turning is a transfer of allegiance, "from the authority of Satan to God." All men are serving a master. You are either under the authority of Satan, the prince of this world, or you are under the authority of God. There is no neutral ground. Conversion is a liberation from a cruel tyrant and a willing submission to a rightful king.
And what are the results of this great transfer? Two glorious benefits are named. First, they "may receive forgiveness of sins." All our rebellion, all our goad kicking, all our persecution of God, is washed away. The slate is wiped clean, not because we deserve it, but because Christ paid the debt. Second, they receive "an inheritance among those who have been sanctified." We are not just pardoned criminals; we are adopted sons. We are given a place in the family and a share in the family fortune, an eternal inheritance that cannot fade. And how does all this happen? The final phrase is the key that unlocks the whole thing: "by faith in Me." Faith is the empty hand that receives the gift. It is not a work we do to earn salvation; it is the instrument through which we receive the salvation that Christ has already accomplished. And this faith itself is a gift, worked in us by the same Spirit who opens our blind eyes.
Conclusion: Your Damascus Road
It is a great temptation to read this as a story about a special apostle, a one-off event for a man with a unique calling. And in one sense, it is. Not all of us will be knocked off our horses by a light brighter than the sun. But in the ways that truly matter, this is the story of every Christian.
Every one of us, before Christ, was traveling with authority from the wrong king. We were serving the prince of the power of the air, living in the darkness, kicking against the goads of God's law written on our hearts and the testimony of creation all around us. We were persecuting Jesus by our rebellion.
And for every one of us who is now a believer, there was a moment when the light broke in. God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ (2 Cor. 4:6). He confronted us in our rebellion. He showed us that our sin was a personal offense against Him. He revealed that Jesus, the one we had rejected, was in fact Lord and King.
And He did not leave us in the dust. He raised us up and gave us a new commission. Every Christian is a servant and a witness. We are all sent out into the world with this same glorious message: that through the preaching of the gospel, God opens blind eyes, turns people from darkness to light, transfers them from Satan's authority to His own, and gives them forgiveness and a full inheritance. This is not a task for a special class of super-Christians. This is the mission of the whole church.
So the question for us is this. Have you been arrested by this grace? Have you been confronted by the risen Lord Jesus? Have you answered the question, "Who are you, Lord?" and bowed the knee to His answer? And if you have, are you living out your commission? Are you a witness to what you have seen? Are you an agent of this great transfer? Because the same Christ who met Saul on the road to Damascus is the one who rules and reigns today, and He is still in the business of invading rebellious hearts and transforming persecutors into preachers.