Introduction

What kinds of behaviours don’t fit with being a Christian? We all have certain sins we think are especially serious. When I was growing up, my pastors often spoke out against divorce and shopping on Sundays. My youth leaders warned us about smoking, drinking, and premarital sex. I’m not saying we should act as though destructive behaviours are no big deal; we should avoid them. But often, we focus on the external while paying little heed to the internal.

External sins are usually symptoms of sins that begin in our hearts. We might sin by hardening our hearts towards those in need; by seeking ultimate meaning in life through the things we own; or by dehumanizing others in different ways. For example, we might scapegoat immigrants for our anxieties, or think about attractive people as objects we’d like to exploit. As Jesus tells us: “Out of the heart come evil thoughts—murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander. These are what defile a person” (Matthew 15:19-20a, NIV).

Among the sins we struggle with in our minds, pride is perhaps the most insidious. When we have impure thoughts, we might hide them, but we probably still feel dirty. If we’re tempted to spread rumours, we usually know it’s wrong, even if we try to justify it to ourselves. But pride is different: People who are proud often think they’re doing everything right, and they don’t notice their pride, even if it’s obvious to everyone else.

When we look at Saul of Tarsus—better known as the Apostle Paul—we see someone whose life was deeply and negatively affected by pride, but who found restoration when he learned to let it go and choose humility.

Saul the Pharisee

Pharisees

When Saul first shows up in the Bible, he’s a Pharisee. To understand Saul’s mindset, it helps to know who the Pharisees were and what they believed. To understand that, we need to know a bit of historical context.

When God freed the Israelites from slavery in Egypt, he made a covenant (or agreement) with them called the law. He promised to reward them if they followed it, and to punish them if they didn’t. If they broke the law badly enough, they would be exiled from their land. But even then, if they turned back to God, he would forgive them and bring them home.

Centuries after receiving the law, the people had largely abandoned it. In 586 BC, God let the Babylonians conquer Jerusalem and take the people into exile. But that wasn’t the end. About 50 years later, the Persians defeated Babylon and let the Jews go home. Only some returned, and when they did, things weren’t as good as they hoped. They were just a small part of a bigger empire, and as different empires rose and fell, they often felt powerless. In good times, their pagan overlords were indifferent to their faith; in bad times, they were actively hostile toward it.

The Pharisee movement grew up in these troubled times. They were a group focused on holiness. They believed Israel’s troubles came from not being strict enough about following God’s laws. So they tried very hard to keep every rule, often to an absurd degree, thinking that’s what God wanted. They often looked down on people who weren’t as strict. In their view, they were the solution, and everyone else was the problem. They believed that if everyone were as devoted as they were, God would send the promised Messiah to free them from their oppressors, who, in Saul’s day, were the Romans.

Saul’s Pride

So Saul belonged to a group that thought everyone needed to be more like them. They believed they didn’t need to change—everyone else did. Does that sound like pride to you? Later, when Saul wrote to the church in Philippi, he listed the things that once made him feel superior:

If someone else thinks they have reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: ⁵ circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; ⁶ as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for righteousness based on the law, faultless. 

⁷ But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ (Philippians 3:4–7, NIV).

Saul had thought he had it all figured out, but Jesus challenged his worldview.

First, Jesus taught that it was more important to follow the spirit of the law than just the letter. I recently saw a preacher give this example: If your mom says, “Don’t punch your brother,” does that mean it’s okay to kick him? Saul, as a Pharisee, might say, “As long as I don’t punch, I’m fine.” But Jesus would say, “The rule is meant to prevent all harm, so kicking is just as wrong.” According to Jesus’ way of understanding God’s law, Saul, who based his identity on being perfectly righteous to the letter of the law, didn’t measure up. Jesus was saying, “That’s still not enough,” which would make Saul’s proud heart angry.

But there was another reason I think Saul rejected Jesus. He liked to see himself as the hero. He expected that when the Messiah came, he would praise people like Saul for their hard work and faithfulness. “Good work, guys! It’s because of your hard work and dedication that I’ve come to the rescue.” But when Jesus came, he showed special kindness to the very people the Pharisees had left out—those they didn’t think belonged. And instead of praising the Pharisees, Jesus rebuked them.

Saul’s pride kept him from seeing that God wasn’t interested in the kind of righteousness that just looks good to others. Instead, God wants a righteousness that’s about loving and helping people, not about appearances.

Because of his pride, Saul ended up fighting against what God was doing. He approved of the stoning of Stephen. Then he led a group that arrested the Christians in Jerusalem for blasphemy. When there were no more Christians to persecute in Jerusalem, he even travelled to Damascus—in another country—to keep going. We read his story in Acts 9

¹ Meanwhile, Saul was still breathing out murderous threats against the Lord’s disciples. He went to the high priest ² and asked him for letters to the synagogues in Damascus, so that if he found any there who belonged to the Way, whether men or women, he might take them as prisoners to Jerusalem. ³ As he neared Damascus on his journey, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. ⁴ He fell to the ground and heard a voice say to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” 

⁵ “Who are you, Lord?” Saul asked. 

“I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting,” he replied. ⁶ “Now get up and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do.” 

⁷ The men traveling with Saul stood there speechless; they heard the sound but did not see anyone. ⁸ Saul got up from the ground, but when he opened his eyes he could see nothing. So they led him by the hand into Damascus. ⁹ For three days he was blind, and did not eat or drink anything (Acts 9:1–9, NIV).

Saul thought he was righteous, but when he met the risen Jesus on the road to Damascus, he couldn’t fool himself anymore. His physical blindness mirrors the spiritual blindness that he had been living with. God sent a believer named Ananias to pray for him, and Saul’s sight was restored. After that, it was as if he were seeing everything for the first time.

Saul on Time Out

Once Saul accepted the truth about Jesus, his passion changed direction instantly. The man who tried to destroy Christianity became its boldest preacher—maybe even too bold. He preached so forcefully that he seemed to make impassioned enemies everywhere he went. First, in Damascus, where he had to stage a clandestine getaway to avoid a hit, and then in Jerusalem, where, once again, his preaching led to another plot against his life. When the church leaders found out about it, they put him on a boat back to Tarsus, his hometown, about 600 km from Jerusalem— a long way from where the action was. After arriving in Tarsus, Saul disappears from the story for a while. He doesn’t make another appearance until around a decade later. So Saul, who was now a passionate follower of Jesus, found himself waiting on the sidelines.

Now, some people enjoy riding the pine. Some people go to church on Sunday, and they have no ambition to get more involved. If that is you, we’re still glad you’re here. But Saul is not that kind of guy. He’s the guy who ends up on the PTA two weeks after his first child starts junior kindergarten. He’s the kind of guy who joins the fishing club and, three months later, is leading the fishing club.

Saul is the kind of person who is used to being at the centre of the action, and now he’s literally hundreds of kilometres away from the action. Maybe he feels like Moses, who wanted to deliver God’s people, but he had to spend 40 years tending sheep in Midian before God’s timing was right.

When we look at Saul, we see someone very capable, and we might wonder why God didn’t just let him get started immediately. I can’t say for certain, but I think Saul needed to learn humility before he was ready for his mission. I wonder if perhaps Saul preached Jesus in a way that lacked humility, and that’s why it seemed that people wanted to kill him everywhere he went. In fairness, during his missionary journeys, Saul makes plenty of enemies, but at first, he starts out batting .1000 in that regard. But it’s not hard to imagine how Saul, coming to faith as a young and brash man, might start to preach the gospel in a way that lacked tact and grace. “You guys are losers if you don’t believe in Jesus!”

The message of the cross isn’t always popular, but our tone is important. As Peter reminds us, “1 Peter 3:15: “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.” If we share the message of Jesus without showing his character, our words won’t have the impact they should. Maybe Saul needed to learn how to temper his passion with humility. The message of the cross is already challenging enough, so we shouldn’t make it harder for people to hear by coming across as arrogant.

Another reason Saul might have needed a break was to learn he wasn’t the main character in the story. When we start serving God, it’s easy to feel like we’re essential. “Where would the worship team be without my spirit-annointed kazoo playing?” I’ve seen churches worry about what would happen after a beloved pastor retired. They forget that God, not the gifted ministry leader, is the central figure in the story. Without some time away, Paul might have started to believe he was that central character.

Now it’s actually a gift from God to know that not everything depends on us. If you think it all rests on your shoulders, what happens when you can’t keep up anymore? Realizing you’re just one part of God’s bigger story lets you hand things over to others or step back when you need to. Saul’s time on the sidelines reminded him that he was a supporting player in God’s story—not the main character. It’s God’s story after all.

Paul’s Weakness

Eventually, Saul’s time-out ends when Barnabas recruits him to help lead the church in Antioch. After a year of teaching there, the Spirit instructs the church to send Saul and Barnabas out on a mission trip. It’s not long after this that Saul begins using his Roman name Paul, so I’ll switch now.

We like to think that Paul’s mission was a triumph; after all, the guy wrote a big chunk of the New Testament. But Paul’s journey wasn’t easy. Jewish religious leaders saw him as a traitor to his people. Pagan officials thought his message about King Jesus was subversive. He was also opposed by people inside the church who insisted that Gentiles had to follow Jewish customs, and others who tried to make Paul look small to make themselves look important. We see Paul as a hero now, but in his own time, many Christian leaders didn’t take him all that seriously.

But for Paul, perhaps the most perplexing difficulty he faces is in his own body. Writing to the Corinthians, he says,

Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. ⁸ Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. ⁹ But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. ¹⁰ That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong (2 Corinthians 12:7b–10, NIV).

What was the ‘thorn in the flesh’ Paul talked about? We don’t really know. Some people think it was poor eyesight, but that’s just an educated guess. The details don’t really matter. What matters is how Paul’s understanding changed.

At first, he saw it as something to get rid of, so he prayed three times for God to take it away. But each time, God said no. Maybe you’ve faced something like this. You might have a health problem that keeps you from doing what you feel called to do, or you struggle with depression, anxiety or work-related stress that drains your energy. Or money troubles make it hard to be generous. We pray, “Lord, please help me.” Sometimes God changes things, and we have a great story to share. 

But other times, God’s answer isn’t what we want. He might say, “I won’t take you out of the storm, but I’ll be with you through it. My grace is enough for you too.” God doesn’t promise to remove every problem, but he does promise to be faithful to us as we go through them. I imagine Paul was confused at first about why God let him suffer. But eventually, he realized it was for his own good.

Paul had seen amazing things about God’s glory—things that could make someone feel self-sufficient. But his weakness kept him humble and made him rely on God’s grace, often shown through the kindness of other Christians. Paul couldn’t do everything by himself. His weakness helped him build loving, supportive, interdependent relationships with the churches. We catch a glimpse of this in his letter to the Galatians:

¹³ As you know, it was because of an illness that I first preached the gospel to you, ¹⁴ and even though my illness was a trial to you, you did not treat me with contempt or scorn. Instead, you welcomed me as if I were an angel of God, as if I were Christ Jesus himself (Galatians 4:13–14, NIV).

For Paul, weakness gave others a chance to care for him, and it helped him represent Jesus, who chose humility and weakness to reveal God’s unique, cross-shaped love.

Paul was able to see his suffering in a new way. He could even boast about his weaknesses because they made Christ’s power more visible. This shows he had let go of his pride. Earlier, Paul’s pride twisted his passion for God and led him to fight against God, even when he thought he was serving him. Pride may have made him alienating even after his conversion to faith. But the mature Paul we see in his later years has spent enough time reflecting on the life of Jesus. He understands the difficulties he faces in light of Jesus’ humility, suffering, death, and vindication upon his resurrection. That’s how someone who was once so proud could become a person who found strength in weakness.

Conclusion

Religious pride is hard to spot in ourselves. After all, it takes humility to admit we’re proud, which is why pride is so dangerous. Sometimes, the tough situations—the kind that make us question God’s faithfulness—are God’s mercy in action, dismantling our pride. For Paul, it took having his worldview turned upside down, facing death threats, spending time on the sidelines, surviving shipwrecks, being beaten and imprisoned, dealing with opposition from all sides, and living with a thorn in the flesh. But God changed him from someone with toxic religious pride into the beloved Apostle who saw his struggles as a badge of honour.

I hope none of us face challenges as tough as Paul did. But when hard times come—and they come to everyone—I hope we remember Paul’s example. Being a Christian doesn’t mean we avoid pain or struggles. No one wants these things, but we can choose how we respond to them.

When tragedy strikes, it’s natural to wonder why God didn’t stop it. I wonder if Paul felt that way when he asked God to take away his pain, and God didn’t.

But we can let these times strengthen our faith and build humility in us. We can trust that in our weakness, God’s power is made visible. I’m reminded of the story of singer Jeremy Camp. I remember hearing his song “Walk by Faith” when he released it in 2004. The chorus says:

I will walk by faith,
Even when I cannot see,
Because this broken road
Prepares Your will for me

Honestly, when I first heard it, it just sounded like boilerplate worship song lyrics. But then I learned that three years earlier, Camp’s first wife, who was a cancer survivor, had a serious relapse on their honeymoon and died three months later. Camp, the 23-year-old widower, struggled with how to understand what happened to him, but eventually, he saw God working in his pain. When he says he will walk by faith, I respect that—because for him, it’s not just a cliché. That’s real, hard-earned faith. It’s not pride, but a humble trust in God’s goodness.

There’s certainly a part of me that wishes we could all be spared from hard times, but tough seasons will come. Maybe you’re facing them now, or maybe they’re over the horizon. When they do come, I hope we can learn from them. Just as Paul’s struggles broke his pride and led him to humble obedience, I hope we can also choose to depend on God with humility.