Ryan's Ramblings

A Goad of Grace

“When the blood of your martyr Stephen was shed, I stood there giving my approval and guarding the clothes of those who were killing him.” (Acts 22:20, NIV)

There’s that one thing.

You know what it is—and I do too. The moment you wish you could rewrite. That thing you did—or stood by and let happen. Sometimes it haunts us. Other times, we almost forget—tucking it under the pile of “good” we’ve done. Time and distance help us rationalize it and we move on… sort of.

But then comes the poke. A word. A memory. A moment that left a mark. And we feel it—deeply. It presses and prods. It won’t let you stay where you are.

That’s what a goad does.

Goad is not a word we use much anymore, but in the ancient world, it was a pointed stick used by a farmer to prod an ox in the right direction. If the animal resisted—if it kicked back—it only ended up hurting itself more.

That’s the image Jesus used when He addressed Saul on the road to Damascus:

“Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me? It is hard for you to kick against the goads.” (Acts 26:14, ESV)

Goads aren’t just painful—they’re persistent. They dig, prod, and poke. They’re not meant to destroy—but to guide. You know that sting of conviction? That holy discomfort that won’t leave you alone? It might not be punishment—it just might be a goad of grace.

For Saul, I wonder if one of those goads was the face of Stephen—the first Christian martyr. Saul was there when he died—approving of his murder. But Stephen didn’t curse. Instead, he forgave. He looked up to heaven and prayed for the very ones throwing the stones.

That kind of love leaves a mark.

Maybe that image was seared into Saul’s mind. Maybe it played on repeat in his soul. Here’s the truth: God doesn’t waste anything—not even our worst moments. The very thing the Enemy meant to use as shame, God can use as a holy irritation, a divine haunting—a goad—not to condemn, but to call us closer.

Jesus didn’t die on the cross to let our past have the last word. He’s holy—and the pain and guilt we carry didn’t come from Him. But in His mercy, He takes it on and transforms it. He loves us with a relentless love, and that nudge in your spirit, that ache of regret, that tension you can’t shake—it’s not an interruption. It’s an invitation.

He goads us—not to shame us, but to save us. Not to punish, but to pursue. Until we find our peace in Him we’ll keep feeling unsettled—not because He’s far off, but because He’s drawing near. Pressing in. His grace won’t let us go.

That’s what happened to Saul. The goads became grace. The one who tried to silence the church became Paul—the gospel’s most passionate preacher. Sometimes the most merciful thing God can do is make us uncomfortable. His loving conviction might feel like a sharp prod in the ribs, but it’s actually His kindness—leading us to repentance (Rom. 2:4).

So if something’s poking at you, don’t kick against it. Don’t run away. Lean in—and listen to Jesus.

It might just be a goad of grace.