Bible reading: Acts 9:1-20.

Message.

I doubt that any of us recognise the names of Wesley Beynon and Mark Wilding. Indeed, their picture makes me think that they’re probably “not my kind of people”. But, about ten days ago, these two men – who are uncle and nephew and come from Merthyr Tydfil – did something truly amazing; you may have heard about it on the news. As they were driving along the Heads of the Valleys road, they saw that a car was on fire. They also saw a distraught young woman beside it, screaming that her baby was trapped inside. Without a moment’s hesitation the two men forced their way in through the flames and rescued the child. Afterwards they said, “We were in the right place at the right time. Instinct took over. We’d never have left the scene until the baby was safely out of the car”. Would we have had their courage? I doubt it, and I hope they receive medals for what they did. Nevertheless they will remain largely unsung heroes.

There are several unsung heroes in the Bible: people who risked their life or reputation by doing a brave act. For instance we have the unnamed servants of Naaman, the high-ranking military commander afflicted with leprosy, who dared to upbraid their master when he flew into a rage and refused to wash in the river Jordan as the prophet Elisha had told him to. Eventually Naaman swallows his pride, dunks himself in the river, and is healed – well done, those nameless servants!

Then we have Mordecai, the cousin and guardian of Esther, a Jewish lady who becomes queen of Persia. Mordecai uses his fragile position in the king’s court to stand up for the oppressed Jews and foil evil Haman’s plot to assassinate the king. The action of this unsung hero had a pivotal role in history because, if Haman had succeeded, the Jewish people would have been destroyed.

Going further back in the Bible, we meet Rahab, the prostitute from Jericho. When the Israelites were scouting out the city with a view to invading it, they sent spies into the city to see what it was like. Local people saw these strange men at Rahab’s house and came knocking on the door. In a scene reminiscent of the Gestapo hunting for hidden Jews in occupied Holland during WW2, Rahab told the spies to run up to the roof while she dealt with the investigators, who left without finding them. She saved their lives – and of course paved the way for the Hebrew invasion of Canaan. Could Rahab be one of the most unlikely unsung heroes to have changed the course of history?

As I’ve already said, today in the so-called “church calendar” marks the conversion of St Paul – who of course was still called Saul at the time. This is a story we all know well: of how the Christians were scattered after the death of Stephen, of how Saul was charging about seeing if he could locate and kill the dastardly heretics who were worshipping Jesus, of how he and his raiding party were stopped in their tracks by a dazzling light as they approached Damascus; of how Saul heard a voice saying, “Why are you persecuting me?” which, when he asked, “Who are you, Lord?” was revealed to be that of Jesus himself … As I say, it’s a familiar and dramatic story; it’s also one (I say this just in passing) that has possibly misled us as I don’t regard what happened to Saul as a blueprint for everyone’s conversion. Most people, I think, come to faith quietly and over a period of time.

I don’t really want to talk about Saul this morning; I want us to think of the other main character in the story (apart from Jesus, that is!) who can easily get overlooked. I’m thinking, of course, of Ananias, who we only meet on this one occasion and who can justly be deemed another of the Bible’s unsung heroes. To fully understand what he did, we must first go back to the end of Acts 7, with Stephen, the first Christian martyr, being dragged out of Jerusalem and stoned to death. It’s at this scene which makes us think of the horrors perpetrated by Isis, the Islamic State, that we first meet Saul, who one commentator has called “a shadowy young man”. He doesn’t take part in the stoning; oh no, he’s too refined to have blood on his hands. But he’s still complicit in the murder, looking after Stephen’s killers’ cloaks while they go about their business. Did Saul have a role in orchestrating the violence? We don’t know; but we are told that he approved of what had been done.

Following Stephen’s death, the Christians (apart from the Apostles) were scattered. If the Jewish authorities thought they had dealt the new religion a death blow, they were wrong; in fact they had unwittingly helped it to spread and grow, as the courageous believers preached the message of Jesus wherever they went, rather than keeping silent. However they took a great risk in doing this, as Saul was determined to destroy the church. We read that he went from house to house, dragging off and imprisoning both men and women. This must have only been in the Jerusalem area, as at the start of ch.9 we read of Saul, “still breathing out murderous threats”, going to the High Priest and asking for authority to take prisoners in Damascus as well. Little did he know that things would be very different by the time he got there!

So what happens after Saul’s encounter with Jesus? Blinded, he is led into Damascus, to the house of a man called Judas (which was a very common name); Jesus told him to wait. I wonder how Saul was feeling – frightened, fearful, hopeful? We can only guess, especially as he didn’t know what he was waiting for, how long his wait would last, nor whether his sight would return. For perhaps the first time as an adult, Saul could not control his life. Then, after three days, Ananias came knocking at the door. That might not seem to be a big thing; however we mustn’t underestimate the courage he showed in coming. He had to jump over several hurdles (not literally!) to get there.

For instance, he’s had a vision from God. Had he ever had one before? How could he be sure that the message he heard was really divine and not a figment of his imagination? Unlike us, he seems to have had no doubts about that – in fact he responds by saying, “Here I am, Lord” – which makes us immediately think of people such as Moses and Isaiah who were equally quick to recognise God’s voice. However, in what’s been called “a feisty conversation”, Ananias does question what God is asking him to do; he is fully aware of the violence which Saul has committed and could commit again. In fact he tells God all about it (as if God didn’t know already): “Lord, I have heard all about the evil this man has done to your saints in Jerusalem, and how he’s been given authority here to bind all who invoke your name”. Ananias may say, “Here I am, Lord” – but he is still full of doubts.

That’s hardly surprising, for two reasons. The first is that Ananias, a Christian, is clearly a potential victim. (Incidentally, he is described as being “in” Damascus rather than being “from” there – so was he one of the Jerusalem Christians who were forced to scatter? It’s possible; if so, he might well have seen Saul’s activities at first hand). There’s also the question of who this Judas was; was he the person that Saul had planned to stay with as he rounded up the hated people of the Way in Damascus? If so, he too represented danger. So if Ananias’s vision was false, he was walking into the lion’s den. His life was on the line.

What happens next is truly amazing. Ananias is welcomed into Judas’s house (not that we meet Saul’s host). And what Ananias says and does are also amazing: he lays his hands on Saul (and here I’m reminded of Princess Diana daring to touch AIDS patients in the days when it was a dreaded disease), and he says, “Brother Saul”. Let me repeat what I’ve just said: Ananias not only reaches out to touch this Christian-persecuting, church-destroying man who just a few days ago would have clapped him in irons and thrown him into jail; he also has enough confidence in his vision and his belief that God has turned Saul around to address him as “brother” – the Christians’ family greeting.

After this the scales fall from Saul’s eyes and he is baptised (so drawing a definite line under his past). He eats (clearly food is less important to him than baptism), he spends time with the local Christians (Ananias must have done a good job in convincing them of Saul’s conversion) and he begins to preach openly about Jesus, to the confusion and even fury of many (he has to escape from Damascus by being lowered over the city wall in a basket at night-time). We go on to read of how the wider Christian community was wary of Saul, because of both his reputation and his no-holds-barred preaching about Jesus. Finding him too hot to handle, they pack him off to his hometown of Tarsus to cool down; the next chapter of Acts focusses on Peter instead.

Ananias – and, as I’ve said, we know nothing more about him – was clearly a man who had huge faith in God. When he was called to do a difficult and potentially dangerous task, he obeyed – although he did so alert and with his eyes wide open. When he actually met Saul, he unflinchingly laid hands on him and willingly called him “brother”. So: if we encounter someone with a well-known history that seems to challenge everything we hold dear but who now claims that their life has been turned round by Jesus, how do we respond? Do we act like Ananias, perhaps embracing them and welcoming them into the fold; or do we say “uh-oh, we’re not sure about this chap, we’d better keep him at a safe distance until we’re convinced that he really has changed”?

These questions have been thrown into sharp focus over the last few months by Stephen Yaxley-Lennon or, as he’s better known, Tommy Robinson. You’ll know him as a far-Right rabble-rouser who hasn’t been afraid to voice his anti-Muslim and racist views, and who has sat lightly to the law. What you may not know is that claims to have become a Christian during his latest spell in prison. At his Whitehall carol concert in December, he explained how he had found faith through a weekly Bible study with a chaplain, and that he discovered a Jesus who stood with the sinners. “I’ve lived a life of sin”, he declared. “Until going to prison, I would’ve said that I was pushing Christian culture and identity, to get back to where we were, to have a belief system. But I would not have said at that point that I wholeheartedly believed”. He says it was the Bible studies that made the difference.

So how would we react if Tommy walked through the door of our church (assuming that we recognised him!)? Would we greet him as a fellow-Christian or keep a watchful eye on him and quietly ring the Police? The answer to that question comes down to whether, in the light of his past words and actions, we believe in tale of conversion. If he really has turned to Christ, he could be a wonderful witness to people who are by-and-large beyond the reach of most churches – just as Paul became Christ’s messenger to the Greek and Roman communities. We can only hope and pray. God knows Tommy’s heart.

But we must finish with Ananias, and make one simple but profound observation: the whole history of Christianity hinged on the obedience and courage of this ordinary, even obscure, believer whose story takes up just nine verses of the Bible. Without him, would Saul have regained his sight? Without him, would Saul have been introduced to the other local Christians? Without him, would the Church have spread in the way it did? Without him, would we have Paul’s letters which make up so much of the New Testament? We can’t know the answer to those questions; God could obviously have worked in a different way. But what we do know is this: Ananias, this unsung hero, obeyed God and so played a pivotal role in Saul’s life. Who knows what effect any of us might have if we, too, hear God calling and also say, “Here I am, Lord”?