"The chief of sinners"
There is an interesting progression in Paul's
writings:
- First of all, in point of time, Paul spoke of
himself as "the least of the apostles" (1Co
15:9).
- Later, he was "less than the least of all
saints" (Eph 3:8).
- Finally, he goes even further
and says "I am [the] chief -- or foremost sinner" (1Ti 1:15). (Notice that he
says "I am" -- not "I was" -- the "chief of
sinners"!)
Plainly, in all this, Paul had in mind the part he played in
the persecution, and even the murders, of other believers. The account of the
death of Stephen, in Acts 7 and 8, places Saul (as he was then called) in the
role of ringleader and facilitator -- those who stoned Stephen laid their
garments at his feet (Acts 7:58). Stephen wasn't the only one whose death was
arranged by Saul of Tarsus. Later, he describes specifically, in Acts 26:10, how
when others were martyred for their testimony to the cause of Christ, that he
was there -- front and center -- casting his vote against them.
As the years passed, and he grew nearer and nearer to Christ,
so Paul's self-esteem declined. His remembrance of his persecuting of God's
saints was a constant reminder of his failures and shortcomings, and a lesson in
humility and trust in God, and an exhortation as well to go on to better things.
Paul did not rehearse these things in order to glory in his
past, but to glory in the hope of a future that would not be his -- except by
the grace of God. Even if he used the present tense when describing his sin,
Paul was not STILL the chief sinner, for his sins had been blotted out, and the
righteousness of God through Christ had been imputed to him -- but he was,
nevertheless, the foremost living example of God's boundless mercy.
*****
It would be no exaggeration to say that, humanly speaking, the
rise of Christianity was mostly due to the work of two men. There was Jesus
Christ, of course, and he was the perfect man: the image and glory of the Father
in Heaven, the Lord of life, the Word of God made flesh, walking among men.
True, he was human; born of woman, he was tempted in all points like his
brethren -- he could feel the impulses to sin, and he had to struggle bitterly
to resist them. He learned obedience by the things that he suffered, and thus
was made perfect through those sufferings. He was not a "God" pretending to be a
"man", sinless though he was.
But even after acknowledging all this, we are still left
with... a perfect man, a sinless lamb, a pure and holy and undefiled
Saviour.
And we should be -- and are! -- eternally grateful for such a
Redeemer, and Mediator, and High Priest, and King. And his example, of thought
and word and deed, shines like the brightest beacon in the dark, storm-tossed
sea of this world, guiding us over the waves to God's safe harbor.
But then there was the second man, to whom -- more than any
other except Jesus himself -- Christianity owes its existence. And that man was,
of course, Saul of Tarsus -- later Paul the apostle to the Gentiles.
What sort of man was chosen by God, to be second in
importance, in work, in honor, among the early Christians, and yes, even
today?
Was he the closest to the image of the Lord Jesus Christ? Was
he the man nearest to perfection of character -- the man closest to his Saviour
in all his mental and spiritual abilities, and in his attainments? Well...
there's no disputing that he grew to be a "giant" of faith! But that's not the
point, or at least it's not MY point!
How shall I put this?
What he was, was a... murderer, a cold-blooded serial killer,
proud and stubborn and angry and cold and cunning. You can't "sugar-coat" it;
you can't ignore it; you can't deny it.
Why? Why?
Why did God choose such a man to carry forward the banner of
His perfect and sinless Son? And even if such a grievous sinner could repent,
and be transformed by the love of God, and the blood of Christ, surely he ought
to be accepted into the "church" and then quietly take a back seat. Surely he
should be unobtrusive; and it wouldn't hurt for him to be abjectly apologetic,
living out his Christian life in silence, as the worst of sinners! Surely he
should NOT be taking a leading role in the spread of the gospel to all nations!
What kind of representative could HE be?
So what IS the point? I think it is just this: the first
exponent of Christianity was the Christ, or Messiah, himself. And he needed to
be -- it was absolutely essential that he be -- perfect, and spotless, and
righteous. But the second exponent of Christianity NEEDED to be -- at least to
outward appearance, and to his beginnings -- a very different man. He needed to
be at the other end of the spectrum; he needed to demonstrate, by his life, how
all-inclusive was this new religion: the religion of sinners, the religion of
the second chance! Never mind that -- the seventy times seventh chance! The
other end of the scale between perfect righteousness and utter, absolute, foul
sin: he didn't just kill; he plotted his murders, and he enjoyed them, and he
sought opportunity to kill again and again! And he would never have stopped,
until... he saw the Light!
Stop! You say. I don't want to hear it! We mustn't think of
the apostle Paul in such a way. But I say: Yes, we should. HE thought of HIMSELF
in that way!
And, through this hugely flawed man, Saul of Tarsus, God was
sending a message to all who will listen, and to us too: 'Don't ever think that
there is a sin too heinous for Me to forgive! My mercy is as deep and wide as
the sea, and it can swallow up a great mountain of sins.'
[We ought not to forget that, in the words of Scripture, we
may all be classed as "murderers", for at least two reasons:
- "Anyone who hates his brother is a murderer" (1Jo 3:15); and
- "How much
more severely do you think a man deserves to be punished who has trampled the
Son of God under foot, who has treated as an unholy thing the blood of the
covenant that sanctified him?" (Heb 10:29).]
Christianity needed a man like Saul of Tarsus -- we need such
a man -- as a reminder that there is no such thing as a lost cause... that every
human being has infinite potential... that God's hand is not shortened, that it
is NEVER shortened, so that it cannot save... and that there is no pit so ugly,
no trash heap so foul, that it cannot contain a jewel for the crown of Almighty
God.
*****
There is one other aspect to this picture: It seems Paul the
apostle could never escape his past. In the eyes of some believers, his brothers
and sisters, he was still... Saul of Tarsus, persecutor and murderer. There must
have been times when he came face to face with the son, or the wife, or the
father, or the dear friend, of someone whom he had killed. Was all forgiven? Did
the light of God's truth overcome all the darkness, the bitterness, the hatred,
in the human hearts of Paul's brethren in Christ? I doubt it.
First of all, at the beginning, after his conversion and
baptism, it appears that he was not really welcome to the believers: some must
have felt he was a spy -- making a particularly brazen attempt to infiltrate the
ecclesias, so as to find evidence against other believers, and haul them off to
prison or death (cp Acts 9:21,26).
There may have been others, believers themselves, who spat or
cursed under their breath, or even openly, when they heard his name. There were
certainly those Jewish Christians who harassed him from place to place, and
sought to undermine all that he attempted to do. They wrote letters, and talked
about him in his absence -- questioning his honesty, his integrity, and his
character. They even mocked his speech and ridiculed his appearance and his
stature (Gal 4:13,14; 1Co 2:3,4; 2Co 7:2; 10:1,10; 11:6,9,30; 12:10,16-18; 1Th
2:3-6; 2Th 3:7-9; etc).
And, finally, there were those, in Jerusalem, who didn't seem
to mind in the least sending Paul into almost certain danger on his errand to
the temple (Acts 21:20-31) -- they may even have laughed to themselves, quietly
and secretly, when he was arrested: 'Now that "son of Belial" has finally gotten
what was coming to him... for what he did to Uncle Simeon and Aunt
Sarah.'
It makes sense, doesn't it, that when the Lord called Saul, he
told his messenger Ananias: "This man is my chosen instrument to carry my name
before the Gentiles and their kings and before the people of Israel. I will show
him how much he must... SUFFER... for my name" (Acts 9:15,16). And he
did!
But even in these experiences, Paul is our example: not just
of the great mountain of sin that can be buried in the ocean of God's mercy, but
of the burden of ongoing guilt, and the atmosphere of unrelenting hatred, which
a "chosen vessel" must experience, whilst never losing his grip on the love of
God. Paul KNEW there were men and women, his brothers and sisters in Christ, who
hated him -- possibly wished him dead, certainly wished he might suffer greatly
for what he had done to their loved ones. Yet for them, his prayer was surely
(as his Lord's had been): "Father, forgive them..." (Luke 23:34; cp 2Ti 4:16;
Acts 7:60).
How could it be any other way? God had forgiven HIM, the
"chief of sinners". And God could forgive them too, over and over and over
again.
The man who came at last to that place outside Rome -- where
(historians tell us) he bowed his head to the executioner's ax -- had traveled a
long and difficult road. Tears had been shed that cannot be numbered. He had
hated and killed, and others had hated -- and some had finally killed -- him!
But he knew that nothing could separate him from the love of
God which was in Christ Jesus his Lord (Rom 8:37-39). And he knew, too, that
only the executioner's ax stood between him and reunion with those whom he had
killed, and that -- beneath the Judgment Seat of Christ -- they would meet
together.
In our mind's eye we see them there... Paul and Stephen, and a
host of other brothers and sisters, whose names we don't know now, embracing one
another in the Kingdom of God -- murderer and murdered alike, hater and hated
side by side, in one another's arms. All together rejoicing in the cleansing
fountain that pours forth and engulfs them all, washing away every sin.
