When You Get Knocked Down

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC May 1, 2022, third Sunday of Easter. “Resilience for Times When…” series.

Text: Acts 9:1-20

It’s fun to discover unlikely Easter songs. Some of my faves include “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling” by Charles Wesley, “I’m Coming Out” performed to perfection by Diana Ross, the Gloria Gaynor classic, “I Will Survive”—and the one that hit me this year: British band Chumbawamba’s 1997 earworm, “Tubthumper” with the repeated lyric: “I get knocked down but I get up again, you’re never gonna keep me down.” That’s a resurrection song—a resurrection resilience song. A quick online study revealed that a member of the band said the song is about “the resilience of ordinary people.” 

Lord knows it doesn’t take long in life to “get knocked down”—in one of the many ways we might interpret that phrase: to be bullied, to lose something or someone we care about, to fail at something we tried hard to accomplish, to keep hitting obstacles and walls as you try to make progress toward a goal, to be humbled by a difficult task, or “taken down a notch (or many)” by someone who names a way we’ve hurt them or done harm to others.

It’s that last one that knocked Saul of Tarsus down. Saul—who most of us know as Paul the apostle—began as one virulently opposed to Jesus and the disciples of Jesus’ Way. Saul was born to Jewish parents who possessed Roman citizenship, a privilege passed to their children. He was highly educated in Jerusalem, likely under the tutelage of the famous Rabbi Gamaliel. And he brought his considerable skill, privilege, and passion to the work of persecution. Saul was present and affirmed the murder of Stephen (Acts 8:1) and was clear in his mission to hunt down Jesus’ disciples with violent intentions. (9:1) 

With this clear itinerary Saul sets out for Damascus and on the way—according to almost every artist who’s imaged this moment—Saul is knocked off his horse on the road by otherworldly light—a common symbol throughout scripture, along with fire and cloud, for the presence of God. Saul, and those traveling with him, are aware of a voice who turns out to be none other than the risen Jesus. “Why are you persecuting me?” Just as Saul had never been able to perceive who Jesus was or welcome what he reveals and offers, in this moment Saul doesn’t physically “see” Jesus but only receives the message. The encounter leaves Saul not only unable to see Jesus, but to see anything. Whether this detail means to signal metaphorically Saul’s moral incapacity to perceive the error of his ways, was simply a result of encountering God’s presence and power (“blinded by God’s glory/shekinah”), or whether it was understood by the author as divine punishment is unclear. But regardless, Saul’s perception is completely messed up—so much so that he goes, with assistance, into Damascus and fasts and prays for 3 days. 

While Ananias doesn’t get knocked off a horse like Saul, he also gets knocked down, humbled by a dangerous call from God. Saul’s reputation preceded him and Ananias—a disciple of Jesus—knows he is a clear target. But Ananias is called by God to seek Saul out and lay hands on him—a ritual act that, in scripture, is often a sign of healing, blessing, call, and affirmation of gifts through the power of Holy Spirit. 

Imagine for just a moment that you are Ananias. (If it helps, imagine not Saul but a present day, murderous despot in the scenario) You are a disciple of Jesus who’s been trying to faithfully follow the Way even midst violent persecution. You know this guy wants to kill you. You know what he’s done to others. You learn this murderer is the one God chooses to do important Kin-dom work. And you are asked to help make it happen. If I were Ananias, I would have some big feelings. But Ananias, the one who began his response to God saying, “Here I am, Lord,” does what is asked. He goes to Saul, greets him as a member of the family, and