St Paul

I hated that man Jesus. He called us ‘hypocrites’.
He called us ‘whited sepulchres’.
He told the people,
That crowd of unwashed country folk
Who followed him everywhere like bedraggled sheep,
That they should be ‘more righteous’ than us
To see the kingdom of God.
Of course I hated him.

People who used to look up to us

Began to mock us in the street.
Those who used to come to us for teaching
Went instead to him and his band of rag-tag followers.
Of course I hated him.

He made me look deep inside myself

And I didn’t like what I saw.
Not righteousness for God but self-righteousness.
Not charity but pride in being better than others.
Better? In what way was I ‘better’?
When was the last time I came, unasked,
To the aid of the needy, the ignorant or the foolish?
When did I last serve God with grateful love
Rather than ritual observance?
When did I last pray from the heart and not
In formulaic phrases, rendered meaningless
By years of repetition?
When did I ever ask forgiveness for my failures
As a leader and as a man?
Of course I hated him.
 

But you, O my Lord Jesus Christ,

In your grace and your mercy, met me on that Damascus Road
And freed me from my fears and my despising.
You blinded me with the light of your glory so that
When my eyes were opened again I would see the world newly.
I saw then that all men were my brothers and my responsibility.
I saw that God was calling me to a new life.
I saw that my task and my joy was to tell the world
How I love that Man, Jesus.