Beyond the Road to Damascus: Saul of Tarsus Becomes Paul the Apostle

By the name Saul I was known until I met the Roman Proconsul Sergius Paulus on the Island of Cypress during my first missionary journey. It occurred to me then and there that since I am a free-born Roman citizen, in which fact I take great pride, and that since I was a missionary to the Roman Empire, it would be a decisive advantage for me to call myself Paul, which appellation has always been received favorably by the Romans. Most Jews, however, prefer to call me by my Hebrew name Saul, to which I have not the least objection.

I was brought up as a Jew, the son of a Pharisee from the Tribe of Benjamin, and circumcized the eighth day, of the stock of Israel, an Hebrew of the Hebrews and, as touching the law, a Pharisee. My father, though not a wealthy man, was pleased to send me to the best schools in Tarsus, which place I would describe as no mean city. It is the capital of Cilicia, a narrow province (varying from thirty to sixty miles and having a length of almost three hundred miles) situated between the Taurus Mountains and the Mediterranean. The land surrounding Tarsus is productive, and the city is well known as an important center of commerce, thanks to her convenient port of Rhegma at the mouth of the Cydnus River, whose cold waters originate in the mountains to the north and pass through Tarsus about twelve miles from the Mediterranean. In my youth the city was already eight centuries old, but of particular significance is the fact that it is one of the three greatest centers of learning in the world; some would say the greatest. To its renowned university, students gravitated from many places, but I observed that the natives of Tarsus seemed to have surpassed all other students in their academic zeal.

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And now the time draweth nigh when I shall be delivered. I have come a long way from the Damascus Road and the Street Called Straight (and if I were to tell even a hundredth part of what the Lord has revealed unto me, many would apostatize at once). But having passed through it all, I am calm as a summer s morning, and my conscience is devoid of offense toward any man as I go soon to kneel at the feet of my Beloved Savior Jesus Christ; and when I kneel at His feet, I will know no more about Him than I know right now. O Death, where is thy sting! O Grave, where is thy victory!