Man in White

by Johnny Cash

  He raised his head from the ground to try to look again at the Man in White, but he was blind. On the back of his eyelids was a negative of the Man. He would never forget the image. In startled wonder he recalled the magnificent sight that struck him blind. The man’s bare feet shone like gold, much, much brighter than the polished brass lamps that hung from chains in the synagogue. There was a well-healed wound on the arch of each foot— even the wounds sparkled and shone.

  His robe was long and flowing and whiter than any earthly fuller could make cloth. It appeared to be a one-piece robe, hand-woven of linen, but what wonderfully white linen! Around his chest was a golden mantle. Signifying what? Saul wondered. Certainly a priestly piece of apparel. Or covering . . . what? The gold, a symbol of God’s purity covering bloodstains that had fallen from his brow, which was banded with a golden crown. He knew, but would not, could not yet accept the fact of the identity of the Man in White. His arms were outstretched, and on his beautiful hands were wounds, one in each palm.

  Saul could not distinguish the features of the Man’s face. The light had prevented it. But his hair was as snow-white as his robe. His mouth was open, ready to speak. The man’s eyes pierced through the light and touched Saul to the depths of his being. Eyes of love. Eyes of sorrow. Eyes of compassion, of understanding. Terrible, captivating eyes.

  The light bridged the void, the unbreachable time-space from heaven to earth, and in the instant that Saul had seen all this, he saw also that around, above, and for endless reaches of space behind the Man in White were angels—thousands of angels, tens of thousands of angels.

  Saul had once heard that Jesus of Nazareth had claimed that he could call down twelve legions of angels to assist him if he so desired. He had made that statement to the Temple guards the night of his arrest in Gethsemane. There were more than twelve legions of angels accompanying the Man in White. Seventy thousand? There were more, countless more. As if seventy thousand were a small number. It was. For the angels ascended through the breach, in the void all the way to the infinite reaches of holy heaven. There was an endless, countless number of them beginning at his feet and ascending as his train through timeless time and endless space. He lay on the hard ground of the Damascus road, thinking he was dead, that he had been cast into everlasting darkness. Then the sound began—the sound of water. From where comes the sound of running water on this hot Syrian plain? Then he knew that this sound was coming through the breach between heaven and earth where the Man in White had stood before him. He realized then, in his blindness, that the unworldly, celestial experience was continuing and the sounds he was hearing were not of this world. He was in the presence of divine direction, and he lay dazed but transfixed upon everything that came to him. This was the ancient sound of the creative work of the water that divided the land masses when the earth was created. It was the sound of the water that parted to make way for Israel to cross the Red Sea. This was the sound of eternal water, living water, the water that flowed from the rock at Moses’ hand. The roaring and rushing fury grew in intensity. Ocean waves crashed on rocks. He heard the sound of heavy seas rolling, the rippling and whirling of streams and rivers. The water fell, splashed, churned, and boiled in sheets, sprays, funnels, and seas of water.

  And along with the sound of water, he heard the voices again calling his name, “Saul! Paul! Pol! Paulus! Paolo!” The Gentiles of all the earth were calling him.

  He was wide awake, he knew, for he could feel the hard, hot stones on his back where he lay and trembled in greater fear. Then he sensed the warm presence flowing over his senses, the glory of the Divine filling his very being, touching him, yet he could still feel the spiritual gulf between this world and the higher one. Then the presence spoke to him.

  The soft, loving voice spoke to him through the sound of the water, and it was meant for his ears only. It was a stern but kind voice, piercing yet consoling. It was a friendly voice of love, of familiarity, of brotherhood and compassion. A voice as ageless and endless as creation, coming all the way from the divine dwelling place, through the gulf, bridging the eternal with the temporal, came to the ears of the persecutor.

  “Saul,” it said.

  He listened. He tried to raise his head, but he could see nothing. He wanted to cry, “I’m blind,” but would not attempt to shout over the roar of the water. He could not yet speak.

  “Saul,” came the kind voice again, calling his name in Hebrew. Not in ages had the Voice called to a mortal man from the dwelling place of the Most High. He trembled so much that he could not answer. He waited, unable to reply.

  Could it be the echo of the Divine Voice, the Bat Kol? he wondered. I am not worthy to hear the echo of the Divine Voice.

  But the Voice was not an echo. In childlike loving-kindness, warm and pleading, it said, “Why do you persecute me?”

  And then he knew. Although he asked, “Who are you, Lord?” he knew. It was the glorified human voice of the living water, the resurrected and ascended Son.

  The answer came quickly, and any lingering doubt ended when the Man in White answered conversationally and kindly, “I am Jesus of Nazareth, whom you are persecuting. It is hard for you to kick against the goad.”

  At first Saul did not understand the statement, “It is hard for you to kick against the goad.” Then slowly it was revealed to him. Jesus had often taught in parables. Saul had been kicking against, resisting something he could no longer resist. True, there had been indications that such resistance to the truth would do no good. He had had pangs of conscience and doubts and regrets concerning the continuance of his mission. There were the ill feelings he had had when he thought of the ones who were suffering under his hand and the inner cry he had heard on his victims’ behalf. He remembered the resigned, worried attitude of Baanah ben David and his plea for tolerance, his spirit of goodness. He remembered the high priest’s attempt to reason with him and Nicodemus’s opposition.

  But mainly he had kicked against the pleading of his own conscience, the spirit of good within himself. The Spirit of God within himself! The . . . Holy Spirit within himself? Pleading for tolerance, for peace, for righteousness? The Holy Spirit working through others even?

  The sound of waters continued in his ears, in his mind, flowing into his very soul. The Voice had said, “I am Jesus of Nazareth,” simply “I am Jesus of Nazareth, whom you are persecuting . . .”

  Is it him? thought Saul. “Jesus, the Son of . . .”

  He was far too frightened to put into words the many questions he wanted to ask. Though his companions had arisen and watched in confusion as Saul still lay upon his back, he knew he was in communication with some presence not meant for them to share.

  Finally Saul managed to ask, “What do you want me to do, Lord?”

  “Arise! Stand upon your feet,” came the private order.

  Instantly, in response to the command, Saul struggled to his feet. His companions took him by the arms to hold him up, for he was, at first unable to stand alone.

  He was a fearsome sight to the men who now observed him. He looked as if he had never walked before. His face was scorched, his eyes glazed with a smooth, white, scalelike covering. His parched lips were open in a futile attempt to speak. The men held him on each side and turned him toward Damascus. They called him by name, but he did not hear them.

  He heard the sound of the water, and then of a rushing wind. The fire of the Light had seared his face and formed scales over his eyes. Now along with the sounds of water and wind, he heard the crackling and roaring of the flames. Fire and wind are symbols of the Holy Spirit. And angels sang, countless glorious voices sounding out in praise. Through these sounds came the Voice.

  “I have appeared to you for this purpose,” the Voice continued, “to make you a witness of these things which you have seen and of those things which I shall reveal to you, delivering you from your people and from the Gentiles to whom I now send you, to open their eyes and to turn them from the darkness to light, and from the p
ower of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins and inheritance among them who are sanctified by faith in me. Go into Damascus, and there you shall be told all things that are meant for you to do.”

  The channel between heaven and Saul was suddenly closed. The Voice did not wait for a response to its commands. Saul knew only that he must obey. He was conscious that his feet were moving and that human hands were guiding his movement.

  “What happened to his eyes?”

  Someone whispered, “He can’t see.”

  Tears began trying to force themselves out of Saul’s eyes, and in a short while they were flowing from beneath the scales covering both eyes. His parted lips still made no sound, but inside his soul a shout was rising, a shout proclaiming unspeakable joy.

  Yes, his mind answered. I am blind, blinded in order that I might see.

  “Let the blind man pass,” cried Cononiah, leading Saul by the left hand. His brother, Shemei, held Saul by the other as they made their way under the great Roman marble arch that framed the eastern gate into Damascus and was the beginning of the wide, colonnaded street called Straight. Beggars and sleepers sat under the arch in the midday heat. The Temple guards and servants preceded Saul and the two Hebronites to clear the way to the house of Judas the Pharisee. The street was virtually empty, as all the shopkeepers closed up for two to three hours of respite from the sun and the heat in the middle of the day. By midafternoon the street would again be alive with the activity of buying and selling, bartering and arguing, the perpetual shouting matches held over most transactions. A dealer in brassware would know the exact price he was willing to pay. The seller, however, would not want to sell without an argument. He would want to have a chance to show the buyer that he was a charitable man and would suffer a loss in order to let the buyer have his fine brass pot, rather than allow him to go to the next shop where the goods were of a poorer quality.

  As Saul passed these shops, led by his companions, he was not aware of his whereabouts. His mind was still on the Man in White. He was still speechless from the vision, and though his eyelids were open, he could see nothing except the afterimage of the figure imprinted on the scales that covered his eyes. But that image, he knew, was stamped upon his mind, for he was indeed blind.

  The house of Judas the Pharisee was a spacious, columned, Greek-style home set off a ways from the street Straight behind a beautifully manicured garden and court. A Temple servant rattled the ornate door knocker three times before there was an answer from inside. A servant opened the door just wide enough to see the strange group of men who stood under the portals of Judas’s front door.

  “The master is asleep,” said the house servant gruffly.

  “Tell him Saul of Tarsus is here. He is expected,” said the Temple servant.

  “Open the door and let him come in,” came the voice of Judas from inside the house.

  The door swung open, and the Hebronites entered leading Saul; the others remained outside.

  Judas didn’t recognize him at first, and when he did, he was shocked at what he saw. “What has happened to you, Saul?” he asked.

  Saul did not answer.

  Cononiah said, “He is blind, Master. We were all struck down on the road just outside the city by a terrible light. The light was in front of his face, and it was like lightning, except that there was no sound. We don’t know where the light came from, but he heard a voice as he lay on the ground; he conversed with someone none of us could see.”

  Judas looked at Saul thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “He has looked into the midday sun too long. That would blind anyone.” To his servant he said, “Go to the physician. Tell him to come right away.”

  Saul spoke for the first time. “No physician,” he said. Then quietly and kindly he added,“Master Judas, if you have my room ready, I would like to lie down and be alone.”

  “No physician?” asked Judas. “Saul, your eyes may be damaged from the sun.”

  “Not the sun,” said Saul.“May I . . . may I go to my room?”

  Saul took a coin purse from his belt and handed it to Cononiah. “I will not need you in Damascus,” he said. “Here is what you would have been paid. Go back to Hebron or Jerusalem. Tell the guards and servants that my mission here has been abandoned.”

  The Hebronites looked at each other questioningly, then at Saul. They shrugged and backed out the door, counting the money and dividing it among themselves.

  Judas took Saul by the hand and led him through a door that opened to a canopied walkway; they went past a formal inner-court garden, up a short flight of stairs, and through a polished lemonwood door to a spacious, cool room. He led him to a bed and sat him down on the soft cotton mattress. Saul covered his face with his hands.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Judas looked down at his friend for a moment, then said, “Rest until the evening meal, and after you’ve eaten, if you haven’t . . . if you aren’t feeling better, I shall send for my physician.”

  “Thank you, Brother Judas,” said Saul. “I will have no evening meal. I must think . . . and pray.”

  Judas stood helplessly for a moment, then said to Saul, “You are abandoning your mission? At the news of your coming I sent word to the high priest that as chief rabbi of this city I would assist you.”

  “I can no longer destroy and slaughter, Brother Judas,” said Saul.

  “What will you do?” asked Judas.

  As Saul lay back, the letter from the high priest dropped to the floor, and Judas picked it up.

  “You may destroy that letter,” said Saul.

  “May I read it?” asked Judas, seeing the seal of the high priest.

  “As you please,” said Saul. “I have a new mission.”

  Judas went to his private chamber. When he had finished reading the letter, he muttered, “A new mission?” He paced the floor thinking, debating. Then he came to a decision. “I must send news to the high priest. We could be in for a great deal of trouble here.”

  Alone now, Saul covered his face with his hands to hide the tears of joy. From deep inside his soul had come these tears. He wiped them from his face and said, “Thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift.”He wept openly. A flood of relief and release came over him. Then he quoted aloud to the empty room from the prophet Isaiah. “With joy shall you draw water out of the wells of salvation.”

  Most of all, he felt enormous peace at actually having said, “The mission is abandoned.” He felt fulfillment in humble submission to the will of the Man in White.

  He tried to pray aloud, but he couldn’t speak. He could not take his mind off the vision—he relived it. The Lord had said, “I am Jesus of Nazareth, whom you are persecuting. It is hard for you to kick against the goad.”

  “Now I understand,” he whispered aloud. “I have tried to resist the goading of the Spirit of goodness, the very Spirit of the Most High. The Holy Spirit!”He paused, then whispered softly, “I no longer kick against the goad.”

  The joy filled him again, and for a while he could do nothing but praise. Then he realized that this was a part of his religion he had practiced in form only. Now, meekly and childlike, he said, “O Lord, I offer to you a sacrifice of praise.” And he remembered he had heard Stephen quote Jesus, “Except you humble yourself as a little child, you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven . . .”

  “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit in me,” said Saul. “Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your Holy Spirit from me.”

  A warm, peaceful presence filled Saul’s being, and he lay still and let the power take control. The presence he felt was the same ominous presence he had felt at the vision of the Man in White. This time he saw no vision, but the comforting presence was there, and this time he felt no fear.

  Now the presence, the Comforter, was speaking to Saul’s inner mind, his heart. “I will not leave you comfortless. I will bring to your mind all my words, and you will, in due time, hear those spoken to all
my apostles. And as I taught them, I shall teach you, Saul.”

  “I submit,Holy Spirit,” said Saul. “I shall remain in constant submission.”

  “No,” silently whispered the Spirit. “You are flesh and not sinless, nor shall you ever be free from the war the Evil One will fight for your soul. Daily, hourly, reaffirm your receptiveness to my love and counsel. I will not fail you. I will speak through you when the words fail you. I shall bear up your countenance when you would show despair. I shall strengthen the very fiber of your muscle and bone. You shall see much persecution and affliction, but nothing shall separate you from the love of the Anointed One, so long as you are faithful to your calling.”

  Saul opened his eyes suddenly and tried to look around the room. The scales were still there; all was black. For an instant, a chill swept over him, and he was on the verge of being afraid again. “I will fear no evil,” he said aloud. “Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

  A glorious revelation came to Saul. God’s rod and staff—the Messiah, his Holy Spirit—the Man in White. The resurrection. The fulfillment of God’s plan for humankind. The sacrificial lamb of God. The love of God in human form. A man to see, to listen to as a man speaking the words of God. The God-man, whose hands and feet and side were pierced, who was crowned in mockery with a crown of thorns and adorned with a royal robe, a visage of glory. By this sacrifice we see the unsearchable riches of the love of God. This is God’s Messiah! His only Son given in death to bring us to him through faith in this, the new covenant; justification through faith.

  The Messiah, thought Saul.Will he not deliver Judea from the Romans? Will not the Messiah sit upon the throne in Jerusalem?

  The Comforter replied, “God did not send his Son to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved.”

  Saul’s mind was quiet for a moment, then again he was quoting the prophets.“And a virgin shall conceive and bear a son. It speaks of you, Lord?”