The desert sun scorched the stones beneath Saul’s horse. He was on a mission of divine vengeance… or so he thought.
Armed with authority from the high priest and letters of arrest for followers of “The Way,” Saul rode toward Damascus with purpose burning in his chest and pride swelling in his heart.
He was brilliant, powerful, untouchable.
The Pharisee’s Pharisee. The enforcer of orthodoxy.
If there had been an MVP for zeal, Saul would have owned the trophy.
But then, light broke through. A flash so violent that it cracked the sky open.
Saul fell, face in the dirt, blinded by the brilliance of a glory he had spent his life denying.
And then a voice thundered: “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me?” (Acts 9:4)
That’s the sound of the unstoppable force meeting the Rock of Ages.
Saul’s story is what happens when divine mercy doesn’t knock gently.
In a single moment, everything he thought he knew about God shattered. The Law he had mastered, the status he had earned, the fury he had justified… all of it was worthless in the light of Jesus Christ.
And for three long days, Saul sat in darkness.
No sight. No certainty. No control.
Sometimes God lets us fall so we can finally stop running.
That’s where the heart of Michael Chandler’s story connects.
He said it best: “There’s nothing quite like getting knocked down.”
You train, you build, you plan for glory… but when you hit the mat, the silence hits harder than any punch.
That’s when God starts to work. Because what if the knockout wasn’t your failure? What if it were your invitation?
Saul needed to be stripped of his pride before he could be filled with purpose.
Michael needed to lose before he could learn what victory really meant.
And maybe we need our own version of the road to Damascus. Have you ever thought of that?
Maybe we all need a season where God breaks what’s brittle in us so He can rebuild us into something stronger.
In Exodus 15:3, God is called a “mighty warrior.” God fights. And His greatest battlefield isn’t in the heavens or among empires. His greatest battle is for the human heart.
The Spirit wars against the flesh. Pride against surrender. Control against faith.
Jesus didn’t knock Saul off his horse out of spite; He was aiming for Saul’s heart.
Each of us has a Damascus Road experience. Maybe it’s a career collapse. Maybe it’s a heartbreak. Maybe it’s the moment you realize you’ve been fighting for all the wrong things.
The point isn’t how hard you fall, but who meets you when you’re down.
Jesus didn’t appear to Saul to shame him. He came to reclaim him.
And He’ll do the same for you.
When you find yourself in darkness, remember: darkness isn’t defeat. It’s preparation. The silence between your prayers is the space where pride dies and grace begins to breathe.
You can’t rise to your calling while you’re weighed down by your pride.
God will knock you down to lift you higher. He’ll break the old identity so He can rebuild the new one.
Saul’s blindness was not a punishment. It was as if God were a surgeon, putting Saul under so He could work on his heart.
And when Saul rose, he was no longer the self-made and prideful Pharisee of Pharisees.
He was Paul… a servant of Jesus Christ and Apostle to the Gentiles.
