The one who took the risk

God tells Ananias to go find Saul of Tarsus, and Ananias pushes back.

He is not rude about it. He is not defiant. But he needs the Lord to understand something: Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints at Jerusalem. And here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who call on your name.

This is not a small objection. Saul is not a rumor. He is a documented, authorized threat. Ananias knows people who are in prison because of him. He may know people who are dead because of him.

And yet.

The Lord doesn't argue with him. He simply says: Go. And tells Ananias something that Saul himself doesn't know yet — that this man is a chosen instrument, that he will carry the name of Jesus before Gentiles and kings, and that he will suffer greatly for it.

Ananias goes. He walks across the city to the house of a man who has been his enemy. He walks through the door. He puts his hands on Saul's blind eyes and calls him brother.

Brother Saul.

Not monster. Not persecutor. Not the man who held the coats. Brother.

The scales fall from Saul's eyes. He can see. He gets up and is baptized. He eats something.

We don't know what happened to Ananias after this. He is never mentioned again. He walks into the story, does the one thing he was afraid to do, and walks back out.

Ananias is one of the most important people in the history of Christianity and almost nobody knows his name.

He didn't preach to thousands. He didn't plant churches across the empire. He walked across one city to put his hands on one man he had every reason to fear, called him brother, and went home.

Without Ananias, there is no Paul. Without Paul, the New Testament looks entirely different.

The most consequential thing you ever do may be the thing that nobody writes about — the one act of courage in one room on one ordinary day that you almost talked yourself out of.