Victor Raj

A man doesn’t have to be anti-God to be far from God. Saul of Tarsus proves it. Before he met Jesus, Saul wasn’t running from the God of Israel — he was sprinting after Him. As a Pharisee, he was convinced he was defending Yahweh’s honor, protecting Israel’s purity, and safeguarding the hope of the Messiah. His zeal wasn’t atheism. It was misdirected worship. But zeal without revelation is a dangerous thing. The Moment Everything Collapsed On the Damascus road, Saul’s world didn’t simply shift — it exploded. A light brighter than the sun knocked him to the ground. A heavenly voice called him by name. The God he thought he was serving stopped him in his tracks. “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me ?” His categories shattered instantly. He wasn’t resisting a heresy — he was resisting God Himself. Trembling, blind, undone, he could only whisper: “Who are you, Lord?” The word “Lord” wasn’t polite. It was worship. Saul wasn’t addressing a stranger. He was bowing before a Being clothed i...

Most people think of the Apostle Paul in terms of his dramatic conversion on the road to Damascus . A flash of light, a voice from heaven, and a persecutor of Christians is instantly transformed into the greatest missionary of the early church. It’s a story that rightly inspires awe. But if we stop at Acts 9, we risk flattening Paul’s journey into a single event, when in fact Scripture itself reveals a longer, more complex, and deeply human process. Paul did not step off the Damascus Road as the fully formed theologian, pastor, and missionary we know from his letters. He was converted in a moment, yes—but he was shaped across years. His life reminds us that while God may call us in dramatic ways, He also shapes us patiently, chiseling our character, deepening our faith, and preparing us for the long haul of discipleship. The Damascus Road: A Beginning, Not the End Acts 9 narrates the iconic scene. Saul of Tarsus , zealous Pharisee and persecutor of Christians, is confronted by Jesus H...

  When God Steps In to Recreate Every great transformation in Scripture echoes a deeper theme, God’s commitment to re-create what is broken . From the beginning in Genesis, where He shapes order from chaos, to the Cross, where He births life from death, God is not done with His creation. Acts 9 gives us one of the most powerful moments of re-creation, the conversion of Saul of Tarsus. This isn't just a personal salvation story—it is a divine intervention that rewrites the trajectory of one man, reshapes the early church’s mission, and renews the imagination of what God can do with even the most hostile heart. God Recreates a Man – Saul to Paul Saul enters Acts 9 not as a seeker, but as a murderous persecutor . “Breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord” (Acts 9:1), he sets out to arrest Christians in Damascus. He is full of fire, but it is misdirected. He believes he’s serving God, but he is warring against Him. Then suddenly, heaven breaks in: “As...

Paul’s encounter on the road to Damascus is often described as his conversion. But that word, while useful, doesn’t quite capture what actually happened. Paul didn’t abandon one religion for another. He didn’t renounce Yahweh to follow a new deity. In fact, Paul already believed he was serving the one true God the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. What changed wasn’t his God . What changed was his vision . In that blinding moment of light, Paul realized the unthinkable: Jesus is Yahweh. The crucified rabbi from Nazareth whom he considered a blasphemer and whose followers he hunted, was the living presence of the God he loved. And it shattered him. Paul’s Passion Before Christ: Zeal Without Sight “As to zeal, a persecutor of the church...” (Philippians 3:6) Saul of Tarsus was not lukewarm. He was aflame with devotion to the Torah and the God of Israel. He memorized Scripture. He defended tradition. He believed he was purifying Israel for the coming of Messiah. In his m...

We all like to be in control. But faith often begins where control ends. Loosen your grip, surrender outcomes, and walk with the God who doesn’t give maps—only Himself. We like maps. We like knowing what’s next. We like plans, spreadsheets, backup plans, and exit strategies. Control makes us feel safe. Predictability feels like peace. But what happens when we can’t control the outcome? When the job isn’t secure When the relationship is uncertain When the health report is unclear When the child won’t respond When the future looks foggy Our instinct is to try harder. Grasp tighter. Fix what we can. But control is often an illusion. And it’s a heavy one. Faith begins where control ends. Surrender Is Not Defeat Surrender isn’t waving a white flag in despair. It’s lifting empty hands in trust. Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane, faced a path He did not feel ready for. He prayed: “Not my will, but Yours be done.” (Luke 22:42) He didn’t control the outcome. He trusted the Father through it. L...

Shame whispers, "You are your worst mistake." But the Gospel speaks louder. This reflection invites you to let go of shame, receive the grace of Christ, and walk in the freedom of being fully known and fully loved. Shame doesn’t shout. It whispers. "You always mess up." "You’re not enough." "If people knew the real you, they’d walk away." "You might be forgiven, but you’re still stained." Shame thrives in silence, darkness, and secrecy. It attaches itself not to what we did, but to who we believe we are. Guilt says, "I did something wrong." Shame says, "I am something wrong." But here’s the truth: Jesus didn’t just come to forgive what you did. He came to restore who you are. The Woman Caught in Shame In John 8, a woman is dragged before Jesus by religious leaders, caught in the act of adultery. Her accusers want justice. Jesus offers her dignity. They see her sin. Jesus sees her story. He says, “Let the one without ...

Some of the heaviest burdens we carry aren’t tasks or regrets. They’re people. A child who’s drifting. A loved one caught in addiction. A spouse who’s emotionally withdrawn. A friend walking away from faith. A parent stuck in bitterness. We ache for them. We plead with God. We try everything. And when nothing changes, we silently wonder: “What am I doing wrong?” We carry their pain as if it’s ours to solve. And deep inside, a quiet voice whispers: “If I just love them enough… if I say the right thing… maybe they’ll turn around.” But the truth is this--You are not their Savior. You’re their sibling. Their friend. Their spouse. Their parent. And that is holy enough. The Savior Complex Is Exhausting There’s a difference between a burden God gives and a burden we’ve taken upon ourselves. God invites us to love, speak truth, walk with others, and intercede. But when we begin to believe that their change depends entirely on us, we are quietly placing ourselves in God’s seat. Even Jesus didn’...

There’s a quiet ache we rarely speak of. It’s not loud like heartbreak. Not sharp like betrayal. But it lingers. It’s the ache of what could have been. The job that slipped through your fingers. The relationship that ended too soon. The dream that never got off the ground. The season that didn’t unfold the way you thought it would. We carry these unlived stories with us — in sighs, in silent prayers, in “maybe next time.” We visit them in the middle of the night or when we scroll through someone else’s life and whisper, “That should have been me.” But the truth is this: We cannot follow Jesus with both hands full of regret. The Bible Knows This Ache Even in Scripture, we find stories of what could have been . ●      Moses was meant to lead Israel into the Promised Land — but he didn’t (Deuteronomy 34:4). ●      David longed to build the temple — but that work was given to his son (1 Chronicles 28:3). ●    ...

Some weeks leave a scar on the soul of the world. This past week was one of them. The world staggered under the weight of sorrow. Not one, but multiple tragedies unfolded across nations, leaving trails of ash, grief, and unanswered questions. A Sky That Never Reached Its Horizon Air India flight AI 171 was meant to be a bridge to new beginnings. Onboard were families, students, professionals—each carrying hope like luggage, dreams like boarding passes. But the journey ended in flames. The plane crashed before it could land, killing 241 onboard. But the tragedy did not end there. The plane slammed into the ground near a medical college. Young students, full of life and ambition, were sitting in their campus mess hall, eating lunch, laughing—when the sky fell on them. In an instant, dreams of healing others turned to unspeakable loss. The place meant for nourishment and community became a site of devastation. The weight of that moment is almost too much to bear. One per...