"This is how one should regard us, as servants [under-rowers] of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God." 1 Cor. 4:1
Imagine yourself as one of the one hundred to one hundred sixty under-rowers aboard a first-century Roman galley. Depending on the ship's size, approximately fifty to eighty rowers at a time occupied benches beneath the deck. Each rower managed a single oar, typically between twelve and fifteen feet long, pulling rhythmically in unison according to the steady beat of the hortator.
The hortator was tasked with maintaining the precise tempo and rhythm needed to synchronize the entire crew of under-rowers. He accomplished this either by steadily beating a drum or by chanting in rhythmic cadence, dictating the exact stroke rate required. While rowers worked in shifts, usually rotating every hour, each man was expected to row cumulatively for ten to twelve hours each day, depending upon the urgency and demands of the voyage. In moments of crisis, such as combat situations or severe storms at sea, rowing shifts could stretch significantly longer, testing the endurance and resilience of every rower.
Below deck, conditions were harsh and oppressive. The under-rowers endured persistent darkness, intense humidity, stifling heat, and minimal ventilation. Under these severe conditions, the physical and psychological strain on each rower was relentless, demanding sustained strength, precise rhythm, and extraordinary stamina.
Allow these vivid images and sensations to saturate your imagination fully. This demanding, hidden, and anonymous labor is precisely what the Apostle Paul had in mind when, in 1 Corinthians 4:1, he described himself as an under-rower: a humble servant who labored quietly, consistently, and faithfully, hidden beneath the deck of Christ’s ship, the Church.
Having vividly imagined the challenging reality of the under-rower aboard a first-century Roman galley, let’s turn our attention inward. We move from the physical conditions of the ship’s lower deck to the internal experience of Paul himself. How did Paul experience and perceive his apostolic calling? What was happening inside Paul, in his own lived experience and spiritual journey, that caused him to see himself as an under-rower? As we explore Paul's internal self-understanding, we will uncover essential implications for leadership, humility, and the ways apostles and spiritual leaders are called to embody Christ’s servant posture in their lives and ministries.
To understand Paul’s experience on the Damascus Road, it is vital to grasp what brought him there in the first place. Saul of Tarsus was deeply committed to halting the growth of a new movement within Judaism, known simply as “the Way” (Acts 9:2; 19:9, 23; 22:4; 24:14, 22). F. F. Bruce observes how deeply Saul’s zeal was rooted in Israel’s history, noting that he modeled his actions on revered figures like Phinehas, Elijah, and Mattathias, men renowned for “going to extremes of violence against the enemies of God.”[1] This was Saul’s mindset: he saw himself as protecting the purity and integrity of Judaism from what he viewed as a dangerous threat.
He obtained official letters from the high priest, authorizing him to arrest any followers of Jesus who had fled to Damascus (Acts 9:1-2). Craig Keener explains why Saul sought such authority from the high priest:
“Jewish communities outside Palestine respected the high priest, and letters from him authorized Saul to carry out his mission with the full cooperation of synagogues there.”[2]
Saul’s entourage would have likely included temple guards or attendants. Riding a steed, perhaps a horse or mule, as fitting for a man carrying official religious and political authority,[3] Saul was fully prepared to enforce these orders with urgency and determination.
But Saul’s mission was abruptly halted on his approach to Damascus. At midday, a blinding light, brighter than the noonday sun, engulfed him and knocked him from his mount to the ground (Acts 9:3–4). He heard a voice, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” Saul responded immediately, “Who are you, Lord?” (Acts 9:5). Saul’s question reveals clearly his recognition that this encounter was with no ordinary figure, he was face-to-face with Yahweh himself. Saul, trained rigorously as a Pharisee, would have recognized this as a theophany, a direct manifestation of Israel’s God, similar to encounters recorded of Moses, Isaiah, and Ezekiel.[4]
This raises the question: what deeper dimensions might Saul have recognized in this vision? Eckhard Schnabel points to intriguing possibilities from contemporary Jewish mystical traditions, suggesting that Saul could have been influenced by or even participated in early Jewish Merkabah mysticism, which involved visionary journeys into the divine presence.[5] If so, Saul would have immediately grasped the significance of the overwhelming brightness and the heavenly voice. Mystical traditions often describe overwhelming, blinding encounters with divine light. The sheer intensity of this experience aligns clearly with descriptions of divine encounters in Israel’s prophetic tradition.[6] Indeed, too much divine illumination too quickly can blind us physically, reflecting the spiritual reality Saul was facing in this encounter.
This moment fundamentally reshaped Saul’s understanding of himself and his calling. Although remaining firmly within Judaism, Saul now recognized the crucified Jesus as the exalted Messiah and Lord of Israel. He had not "converted" to another religion; rather, his understanding had been dramatically clarified and redirected. Saul’s deep theological foundation remained intact, but his mission was now completely transformed. His apostolic calling and the humility expressed in his self-identification as an "under-rower" emerged directly from this encounter. The experience on the Damascus Road became the defining phenomenological moment shaping his life, ministry, and leadership.
Insightfully, Robert Sokolowski’s insights in relation to phenomenology are worth noting:
“Perception is not the mere taking in of impressions; rather, it involves an activity in which a thing is experienced as an identity within a manifold of appearances.”[7]
What Sokolowski describes closely aligns with Saul’s experience on the Damascus Road. Saul did not merely passively receive sensory impressions from the overwhelming blinding light or the commanding voice speaking directly to him. Instead, in that critical moment, Saul actively encountered and perceived the risen Christ as a single, cohesive identity revealed through distinct yet integrated experiences. This unified identity unfolded for Saul through the intense physical illumination, the clarity and authority of the divine voice addressing him by name, the visceral shock that overtook his body as he fell to the ground, and a marked inward awareness that he stood in the presence of Yahweh.
This was not simply a moment of external sensory overload; it was an embodied, participatory encounter in which Saul’s entire being, body, mind, and spirit, was fully engaged. Each distinct aspect of this event, from the physical blindness caused by divine radiance to the unmistakable voice that penetrated his awareness, confirmed for Saul a cohesive spiritual reality he could not deny. Saul’s perception thus moved beyond mere sensory impression into a profound experience of Christ’s unified presence. Through these multiple yet interwoven dimensions of appearance, Saul’s identity and mission were decisively reshaped and realigned.
This phenomenological understanding reveals something essential about Saul’s lived experience. His encounter with Christ was not limited to this single moment on the Damascus Road; rather, it continuously unfolded and was re-experienced in manifold ways throughout his apostolic life. Subsequent visions, sustained suffering, ongoing insight, and deep personal reflection were integral dimensions of this unified perception of Christ. Saul’s apostolic identity, expressed powerfully in his self-description as an under-rower, was certainly initially shaped by this radical encounter. Yet he was also continually shaped by the ongoing, lived experience of encountering Christ in other diverse yet coherent ways.
Having established that Paul’s experience on the Damascus Road was not an isolated event but the beginning of a continually unfolding encounter, we will now take a closer look at the moment itself. To better understand how Paul actively perceived and responded to Christ’s presence, we will carefully explore the specific details, the blinding light, the divine voice, and his physical and spiritual reaction. Approaching this decisive moment phenomenologically, we can more clearly see how Paul's ongoing sense of self and apostolic calling was shaped by the deeply embodied and participatory nature of this encounter.
As Saul approached Damascus, Luke reports, “a light from heaven suddenly flashed around him” (Acts 9:3). Schnabel emphasizes that Saul’s experience was initiated by a divine vision, highlighting two essential aspects: the suddenness of the event (ἐξαίφνης) and the brilliance of the heavenly light itself (φῶς ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ). He notes that the suddenness underscores God’s sovereignty, signaling clearly that Saul neither anticipated nor orchestrated this encounter. He also insists this experience was not merely subjective or psychological; rather, it was a genuine and tangible manifestation of divine reality.[8]
Significantly, while the companions accompanying Saul heard a voice, they saw no one (Acts 9:7). Saul alone perceived someone within the blinding radiance. Schnabel explains clearly,
“Paul asserts in 1 Cor 9:1 that he has ‘seen’ (ἑόρακα) the Lord in terms of ‘a real, objective seeing of a supernatural reality in divine splendor of light, which makes itself known as the Lord and is recognized by him as such.’”[9]
Saul’s experience thus moves beyond mere sensory impressions. As Robert Sokolowski asserts,
"Self-consciousness also accompanies our ascent into articulated thinking…when we not only see the brown table but begin to register the fact that the table is brown—our activity is obviously escorted by self-awareness, by a pre-reflective sense that we are the ones registering that fact."[10]
In this moment, Saul not only saw blinding light or heard a voice, he actively recognized and registered within himself that the identity encountering him was the risen Jesus.
This self-awareness unfolds explicitly as Saul falls to the ground and hears his name repeated, "Saul, Saul," followed by the piercing question, "Why do you persecute me?" (Acts 9:4). Schnabel points out that this repetition of his name directly echoes classical theophanies, like God calling Moses from the burning bush.[11] Saul’s response, "Who are you, Lord?" (Acts 9:5), reveals immediate recognition of encountering the divine. His question was not casual; rather, it sprang from a deep, pre-reflective awareness, a self-conscious recognition within Saul himself, that he stood within the presence of Yahweh.
Jesus’ reply, "I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting" (Acts 9:5), solidified Saul’s inward realization. Schnabel clearly states,
“The use of the name ‘Jesus’ underlines the identity of Jesus, who speaks from the reality of God’s heavenly light as Jesus of Nazareth, who had been executed by crucifixion and whose followers Saul is persecuting.”[12]
The risen Jesus identified himself inseparably with those Saul persecuted, fundamentally shifting Saul’s perception. Here Saul experienced an embodied shock: he was rendered physically blind, helplessly dependent upon others who led him by hand into Damascus, and he remained blind, neither eating nor drinking for three days (Acts 9:8–9).
This three-day blindness was not merely a physiological phenomenon. Phenomenologically, this loss of physical sight corresponded with a heightened inner awareness, a self-consciousness accompanied by acute reflection upon the truth of who Jesus was. Saul’s blindness intensified his interior perception, deepening his recognition that Jesus was the risen Messiah and that his identity as one apprehended for unexpected divine purpose would now unfold from this reality.
Sokolowski’s insight finds a perfect parallel here: Saul’s encounter was not merely passive sensory input, but an active registration of Jesus' divine identity within his own consciousness. Saul recognized himself clearly in relation to Jesus, his self-awareness dramatically transformed through this articulated encounter with the risen Christ.
Jesus directs Saul clearly and decisively to enter Damascus and wait for instructions on what he “must do” (Acts 9:6). Schnabel underscores the authoritative nature of Jesus’ command, pointing out that Saul, who previously took active initiative in persecuting Christians, must now wait passively for guidance.[13] The clarity of this directive makes it evident Saul is no longer directing his own steps.
To be reminded of what Sokolowski insightfully notes,
“Perception is not the mere taking in of impressions; rather, it involves an activity in which a thing is experienced as an identity within a manifold of appearances.”[14]
At this precise moment, Saul begins to perceive the risen Jesus not merely through impressions or sensations but by actively registering Jesus as the singular identity orchestrating the details of his journey. Saul’s passivity and obedience reflect a clear response to a new rhythm set by Christ himself, as though he were now beginning to synchronize his movements to the cadence established by a heavenly hortator. No longer determining his own direction or pace, Saul is taking his initial steps toward becoming an under-rower on what we might warmly describe as the "Good Old Gospel Ship," obediently responding to divine commands rather than issuing his own.
Luke carefully emphasizes the objective nature of Saul’s experience, noting explicitly that his traveling companions stood speechless. They heard the voice yet saw no one (Acts 9:7). Schnabel observes this detail, stating explicitly,
“Whoever his travel companions were, they were speechless because they heard the heavenly voice but saw ‘no one,’ a comment which implies that Saul saw somebody in the manifestation of the heavenly light.”[15]
Willie James Jennings articulates something essential here, noting insightfully that divine revelation involves simultaneous clarity and hiddenness. He says,
"Those with Saul also heard a voice, but they saw no one. The revealing God yet remains hidden in revelation... God comes to us one at a time, specifically, uniquely in the singularity that is our life."[16]
Jennings' insight illuminates this moment vividly for us, reinforcing that although Saul's companions experienced something objectively real, the full significance was reserved uniquely for Saul.
After this powerful audiovisual encounter, Saul stands but finds himself completely unable to see, though his eyes are physically open (Acts 9:8). Schnabel describes Saul’s vulnerability vividly, highlighting that Saul must now depend on his companions to lead him by hand into Damascus. Saul's blindness, lasting for three days without food or drink (Acts 9:9), symbolizes an intense period of preparation and inward reflection.
Luke Timothy Johnson suggests this fasting period signifies “a holy period of transition, a stage of liminality,” a time when Saul positions himself to receive further clarity from the Lord.[17] Indeed, Saul had expected a dramatically different arrival in Damascus. Schnabel remarks,
"Seeking to persecute those who described themselves as ‘the Way,’ he is now unable to find his own way."[18]
Saul’s blindness as a result becomes more than mere physical impairment; it reflects vividly his sudden dependence and spiritual disorientation.
Jennings further underscores Saul’s vulnerability, noting insightfully the sudden need for another's help and the tension of waiting. He evocatively describes this period of blindness as "purposeful time," a divinely orchestrated space in which Saul confronts his utter dependence and helplessness.[19]
Through these experiences, Saul’s perception is actively reshaped. As Ben Witherington tells us,
“Saul’s response is not mere sensory overload; it is a genuinely participatory moment of divine-human encounter.”[20]
Saul’s entire being, body, mind, and spirit, is fully engaged and reoriented. Far from simply observing a phenomenon, Saul lives into and through it, slowly grasping its full meaning. In this way, Saul’s lived experience exemplifies precisely what phenomenology seeks to describe: active, embodied perception unfolding as a reality is encountered in its fullness.
As we leave Saul in Damascus, waiting in silence and darkness for further direction, we pause briefly here as well. Saul is now on the threshold of radical, existential transformation, the precise details of which we will carefully explore in the next installment. We will consider closely how his unfolding encounter with the risen Christ continues to shape him, especially through his crucial interactions with Ananias. From there, we will trace how this formative moment becomes the foundation of his subsequent calling, identity, and ministry. Saul’s journey toward becoming an under-rower has just begun, and I invite you to continue exploring with me how these experiences illuminate our own paths toward faithful service and humility.
[1] F. F. Bruce, The Book of the Acts, The New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1988), 180.
[2] Craig S. Keener, The IVP Bible Background Commentary: New Testament (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1993), Acts 9:1–2.
[3] Eckhard J. Schnabel, Acts, Expanded Digital Edition, Zondervan Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2012), 441–442.
[4] Schnabel, Acts, 442–443.
[5] Schnabel, Acts, 442–443. See also Alan F. Segal, Paul the Convert: The Apostolate and Apostasy of Saul the Pharisee(Yale University Press, 1990), 34–71.
[6] Compare Exodus 33:20–23; Isaiah 6:1–5; Ezekiel 1:26–28.
[7] Robert Sokolowski, Phenomenology of the Human Person, New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008, Kindle ed., 205.
[8] Eckhard J. Schnabel, Acts, Expanded Digital Edition, Zondervan Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2012), 443.
[9] Schnabel, Acts, 443–444.
[10] Sokolowski, pp. 18–19.
[11] Schnabel, Acts, 444. Compare Exodus 3:4.
[12] Schnabel, Acts, 444–445.
[13] Schnabel, Acts, 444.
[14] Sokolowski, 205.
[15] Schnabel, Acts, 444.
[16] Willie James Jennings, Acts, ed. Amy Plantinga Pauw and William C. Placher, Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2017), 93–94.
[17] Luke Timothy Johnson, The Acts of the Apostles, ed. Daniel J. Harrington, Sacra Pagina Series, Vol. 5 (Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press, 1992), 164.
[18] Schnabel, Acts, 445.
[19] Jennings, Acts, 94.
[20] Ben Witherington III, The Acts of the Apostles: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1998), 317.
This is interesting. I’ve been in tune with the same studies and areas as you write about. It gives me a deeper understanding of where each notable character comes from in the Bible and also their characteristics prior to their Christ encounter. It seems every thing I read of yours opens up new and added topic. I always want to ‘add’ to the subject as I read. Reading it forces me to realize that I’ve had to walk a similar journey completely alone with no help from a band of followers or anyone. The difference is that, Saul had an encounter with Christ. It was not something that was instilled in his heart and mind from a young age. It wasn’t a God he knew. Very neat stuff. Thank you
Thank you Bishop. This triggered the urgency to let go and let God.