Make a Splash

Acts 8:26-40

July 24, 2022 • Mount Pleasant UMC

So as you probably know, today we are wrapping up this series of sermons drawn out of this year’s Vacation Bible School themes; tomorrow night, our annual VBS begins and it’s going to be a great week. As we say, it’s the very best week of the summer. For the past few weeks here in worship, we have been focusing on making waves, on how what we do now can and will have a ripple effect for eternity. We’ve been reading the same stories they are going to be hearing this week during VBS. Now, I’ve never written curriculum for children’s ministry or for VBS, but I find it curious that the curriculum writers at Orange chose today’s story as one to feature for VBS. Personally, I can’t wait until the kids start asking their group leaders, “What’s a eunuch?” That should be a fun Bible lesson. I think I might be mysteriously unavailable that evening.

Anyway, this morning we’re focusing on a disciple of Jesus that we don’t hear a whole lot about, either in the Gospels or in the stories after the resurrection. Philip is only mentioned seven times in the Gospels (and four of those are in the lists of the disciples’ names, so that doesn’t really count). We do know he’s from Bethsaida (John 1:44; 12:21), a town on the shore of the Sea of Galilee that was also home to Peter and Andrew, and after Jesus called him to be a disciple, he went and found his friend Nathaniel and brought him to Jesus (John 1:43-51). In John’s Gospel when some Greeks want to speak with Jesus while he’s in Jerusalem, they come to Philip to ask for an introduction (maybe because he had a Greek name or perhaps because they were also from Bethsaida, John 12:20-22). But outside of the Gospels, the only Biblical reference to Philip is here, in Acts 8, where we find him walking along a desert road.

Philip sort of enters the narrative abruptly; we don’t have any idea what he has been up to when an angel of the Lord calls to him and gives him his next ministry assignment. Presumably he is with the other original disciples in Jerusalem, because the instructions are to go to a road that leads from Jerusalem toward Gaza and we know the chariot that he catches up with has been in Jerusalem and is now headed home (8:27-28). The text we read this morning says the angel tells him to “go south.” It’s also possible to translate that as “go at noon,” and that would also make sense. Noon would be a good time to find a random chariot on the road because, due to the heat, there wouldn’t be a lot of traffic at that time of the day. One time when I was there in the summer, it was 120 degrees in the shade. So, yeah, not much traffic at this time of day. And notice when Philip arrives, he doesn’t have to ask which chariot. It’s probably the only one out there (cf. Larkin, Acts [IVPNTC], pg. 131)! So he runs up alongside and, apparently, keeps pace with the chariot as he initiates a conversation. Either they are going rather slowly or Philip is a very fast walker!

So who’s the guy in the chariot? Luke, the author of Acts, actually tells us quite a bit about him. For one, he’s from Ethiopia. Now, that doesn’t necessarily mean “Ethiopia” the country we would point to on a map today. In the first century, “Ethiopian” referred more broadly to anyone who was dark-skinned or to someone from part of what we know today as the Sudan (Larkin 132). He’s from northern Africa, he’s been up to Jerusalem to worship, and now he is headed home. “Home,” where he’s a powerful and important person. The region he is from is a wealthy one; they’ve made a lot of money off of iron smelting, gold mining, and trade because, like Israel, they are in a part of the world where everyone has to pass through them to get to where they are going. So when you live in a place like that, you charge a tax to pass through your territory. They’re smart and savvy and rich, and this man, Luke says, is in charge of all that money. He’s the Minister of Finance, the treasurer for the queen. By the way, in some older translations, you might find the name “Candace” as the name of the queen; we now know that’s actually a title and not her name. She is the Queen Mother, ruling monarch of the Ethiopians, and while there was a king, it was actually the queen who ran the affairs of state. She’s in charge, make no mistake, and this man has charge over and monitors her money (cf. Larkin 132). So because of his position, he is a eunuch, because when you’re that close to the queen, the king wants to remove any and all temptation.

So we have a wealthy, powerful, well-off single man who, because of his status as a eunuch, could not enter the Temple proper for worship. He could only go into the outer court (McKnight, Acts, pg. 103). Yet he still came all the way to Jerusalem for worship and he’s returning home with a copy of the words of the prophet Isaiah. This is another sign of his wealth. You didn’t just go to the local bookstore and buy a Bible scroll. Such things were not mass produced like they are today. I have I don’t know many Bibles sitting in my office. I have every translation known to humankind available on my iPhone. I don’t even think about it when I want to read the Bible. But no ordinary person in this world had their own scroll; you didn’t even dream about having your own personal copy because they were hand-copied and very expensive. Most people never had one of their own in their lifetimes. But this man at least has a copy of Isaiah, and on his way home, he is reading it and scratching his head. It’s fascinating to think about how this rich, influential man had all the power and authority he could dream of, but he lacked the power or the ability to understand the word of God (cf. Willimon, Interpretation: Acts, pg. 71).

In ancient times, you would read out loud. Reading to ourselves, or silent reading, didn’t come about until monks started practicing it in the ninth century—you know, so they didn’t bother other monks. But I would guess this influential man probably did not read out loud himself; my assumption is that someone is reading to him as they travel. Sort of a first-century audiobook. That’s how Philip knows exactly where they are in the Scriptures when he approaches the chariot (cf. Larkin 133). Turns out, he is exactly where he needs to be at the moment he needs to be there. I’ve had a few occasions where that’s happened to me; maybe you have, too. One time I remember being prompted by the Holy Spirit to go see John, a man I knew who had just found out that, at age 37 he had terminal cancer. The urging was so strong I knew it didn’t come from within me because, after all, what could I say to someone who had a young family and, he had thought, his whole life ahead of him? So I got in my car and drove the two miles to his house, but when I got there, no one was home. I knocked several times and no one came to the door. Why had the Spirit prompted me to come if no one was home? So I started to write a note to leave in the door and just as I finished, the whole family pulled in the driveway. We had a good, honest visit, and I had the chance to pray with John and his family. Turned out, I was in exactly the place I needed to be at the moment I needed to be there because of the Spirit’s guidance, just like Philip.

When Philip approaches the chariot, he hears them reading what in our Bibles is Isaiah 53: “He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth. By oppression and judgment he was taken away. Yet who of his generation protested? For he was cut off from the land of the living; for the transgression of my people he was punished” (53:7-8). Now if you’ve been part of the church for any length of time, you’ve probably heard that passage read, maybe during Lent or on Good Friday, and you usually hear it applied to Jesus and his death on the cross. But put yourself in the chariot of this government official. He doesn't have centuries of Christian tradition to rely on. He only has the text in front of him and whatever he might have learned in whatever religious instruction he has had. This is a strange and difficult passage taken on its own, and Philip recognizes that there is a difference between reading Scripture and understanding it (cf. Larkin 133). That’s why studying with others is so important; we can help each other get through difficult passages. I don’t have it all figured out and neither do you, but together, with the help of the Holy Spirit, we just might come to some sort of conclusion about this or that. There’s a big difference between reading and understanding, so Philip asks, “Do you understand what you are reading?” (8:30).

To his credit, this important and powerful man doesn’t do what we often do. He doesn’t lie, he doesn’t pretend, he doesn’t put Philip off. Instead, he admits his need right off the bat. “How can I [understand] unless someone explains it to me?” (8:31). And, sensing Philip might be that someone, he invites him into the chariot, where they have an impromptu Bible study about the promises of God and the way they were fulfilled in Jesus.

And that brings us to what I believe is the heart of this passage. Apparently, at some point in the chariot ride, the eunuch responds to the Gospel, the good news about Jesus, and soon after that, they come to a pool of water, or maybe an oasis. (There is a well-known oasis along the Gaza road, a critical place for travelers to stop in the midst of the desert, so that’s probably where they come to when the eunuch stops the chariot.) He asks, “What can stand in the way of my being baptized?” The way he asks the question is important, because he’s not the first nor the last to ask it and to ask it that way. What can stand in the way of my being baptized? You see, this man, as I mentioned earlier, is an outsider. Socially, he’s an outcast. He has no family, and being a high official, he probably has few real friends. Religiously, he’s also on the outside. He went all the way to Jerusalem and because of his physical condition, he would not have been allowed into the Temple area for worship. He had to worship from the outside courtyard. Did he know that before he started out on the journey? Probably. But he still wanted to be as close as he could get to this place where it was said God lived, even though he was an outsider (cf. Wright, Acts for Everyone—Part One, pg. 133).

Now, he’s told, a new worshipping community is forming, centered not on the Temple but on this man named Jesus. Jesus has known humiliation. He’s known what it’s like to be an outsider; after all, Jesus was intentionally crucified “outside” the city gates (cf. Hebrews 13:12) as a criminal, an outcast. But now, Jesus has made and is making all things new (cf. Revelation 21:5). So this man who is not welcome in the temple wants to know: will he be welcome in this new community? Will he be welcome in the church? What can stand in the way of my being baptized?

People today are asking the same question—not in the same way, not with the same language, and maybe not even openly. But they look at the church and they wonder if they will be welcomed. My social media feed fills up every week with stories of people who want to know if they are welcome. A clergy friend of mine posted this last week about a person she met in her community who said he wanted to receive communion, but in his assessment, he had too much sin in his life to take the bread and the cup. I had a similar experience several years ago, as a woman confessed to me she never came forward for communion because she didn’t believe she was “worthy.” There is a narrative that the church has put forward, either intentionally or unintentionally, that in order to get close to Jesus, you have to get yourself cleaned up first. You have to be without sin to come to him, or you have to do something to prove yourself to come to him. And if you’re someone who has heard that and believed that or who still lives by that, I want to talk to you directly for a moment this morning. First of all, let me say I’m sorry if you’ve ever had that message coming from the church. I’m sorry because it’s a lie. The reality is Jesus welcomes us no matter what state our life is in. We don’t have to get everything right before we come to him; if we could do that, what would we need him for? He does the cleaning. We’re not worthy. We’re not perfect. And still he welcomes us. I like the way Max Lucado put it: “God loves you just the way you are, but he refuses to leave you that way” (Just Like Jesus Devotional, pg. 1).

Who are the outsiders? Who do we exclude? Recently in a church in a state not too far from here, a woman approached the front steps of a church and was blocked by an usher asking why she was there and then referred to by another person as “colored.” It was clear she was not welcome in that church—in July 2022 (https://bit.ly/3ayyrMB). We think we’re past all that, and then incidents like that, not isolated, rear their ugly head. During a 1960 interview on the news show “Meet the Press,” Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, “I think it is one of the tragedies of our nation, one of the shameful tragedies, that 11 o’clock on Sunday morning is one of the most segregated hours, if not the most segregated hour, in Christian America” (https://bit.ly/3AKqCOK). That was sixty-two years ago, and his statement is still true. According to the Pew Research Center, 8 in 10 “American congregants still attend services at a place where a single racial or ethnic group comprises at least 80 percent of the congregation.” And that’s on all sides of the racial lines. Who the “outcast” is sometimes depends on where you’re standing, but the reality is that we are all very good at keeping “the other” out, away, distant, still in 2022. Who do we exclude? There’s a lot of denominational virtual ink being spilled over matters of human sexuality today, and what it means to include and welcome people who consider themselves LGBT. Do we include, exclude, what’s the right answer? And everyone is asking what the Biblical answer is; we’re just coming to different conclusions. Who is the outsider? These are not easy questions and they do not come with easy answers. The United Methodist Church is not the first denomination to splinter over such things, and we won’t be the last either.

Now, what I don’t want you to hear me saying is that “anything goes,” that there is no moral standard for life in the kingdom of God. The Scriptures are clear that there is a way of life God in Christ calls us to. There are boundaries. But while we draw lines to keep people out, Jesus welcomed absolutely everyone, even while not approving of everything. To the woman caught in adultery, for instance, he told her he did not condemn her, but he called her to leave her life of sin (cf. John 8:11). She was wanted, welcomed, but Jesus also wanted to do a work in her life. Despite what we're told in our culture, you can love someone without agreeing with everything they do. Jesus did it all the time. His church is still catching up and figuring that out. Personally, I prefer the approach John Ortberg suggests, that rather than putting up fences to keep people out, we instead make Jesus the center and allow him to draw people to himself and call them to “sin no more” (cf. Eternity is Now in Session), just as he did with the woman at the well and so many others.

Who is welcome? Who is excluded? What can stand in the way of my being baptized? Lest we think the early church had it all figured out and we’ve just messed it up, we need only to turn over to the letter from James, the half-brother of Jesus, and his instructions to the church about favoritism. Apparently in the church James was writing to, there were reserved seats up front for wealthy people while poor people were expected to sit on the floor. (Kind of reminds you of today’s Christian concerts and the expensive “VIP” circle seats, doesn’t it?) The wealthy had a place of privilege, even in the early church, and James is astonished. He says, “Is it not the rich who are exploiting you? Are they not the ones who are dragging you into court? Are they not the ones who are blaspheming the noble name of him to whom you belong?” (James 2:6-7). He calls favoritism and discrimination “sin” and those who practice it “lawbreakers” (2:4, 9). Instead, he reminds his church, the “royal law” is simple: “Love your neighbor as yourself” (2:8).

Of course, he got that “royal law” from Jesus. When Jesus was asked to sum up the entire law and single out one commandment as most important, Jesus didn’t have to go get a copy of the Old Testament and scroll through all 613 commands. He doesn’t ask around, take a poll, get lots of opinions. He doesn’t even hesitate. “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these” (Mark 12:30-31). Wait a minute, can Jesus not count? Or did he just cheat by giving two commands instead of the one asked for? No, what Jesus did was give two sides of one command. Love God, love others. You can’t do one without the other. You can’t love God if you don’t love people; and you can’t really love people without loving God. That’s what John, Jesus’ follower, was getting at a few years later when he wrote, “Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen” (1 John 4:20). That’s our bottom line today: love others the way Jesus loves you. Love your neighbor—which is everyone—as you love yourself.

When the Ethiopian government official asks the question, I don’t think he gets the response he expects. He asks Philip, “What can stand in the way of my being baptized?” And because of his situation, having been shut out of one religious thing after another, I would imagine he wouldn’t have been surprised at all if Philip had said, “Well, you’re a eunuch, so I can’t welcome you into the church, but thanks for listening to my Bible study. Have a great day.” But that isn’t what happened. In fact, Luke doesn’t say Philip responds in any verbal way; instead, he takes the man down into the water, baptizes him, and then they both go on their way. This outsider becomes an insider, and the unwelcome is welcomed.

Louisa lives in the Netherlands and simply wants to tell people about Jesus. It doesn’t matter who they are; her goal is to start little fires of faith all across the country, or at least in her city. One day, she met a woman who was depressed and had suffered from bipolar disorder since she was 14. Louisa asked her if she could pray for her and the woman said yes. Then Louisa asked her if she would like to hear about Jesus. They met from time to time after that, and eventually this woman got to the point where she said she wanted to follow Jesus. They prayed and then the woman asked Louisa if she could be baptized. That should sound like a familiar story, a familiar question, by now. With her bipolar disorder, this woman no doubt had been rejected and pushed away all of her life. Louisa didn’t want her to experience that again, and so Louisa took this woman to her house and baptized her in her bathtub. I’ve tried to imagine that scene a hundred times, and there’s a part of me that resists it for so many reasons, but especially after spending time with this eunuch, I’ve come to think maybe that was exactly the right thing for this bipolar woman, to know that she is loved and welcomed by Jesus even if everyone else rejects her. “What can stand in the way of my being baptized?” Louisa is simply trying to love her neighbor as herself and she is doing it well. She is making a splash there in the Netherlands (Seedbed Daily Text, 7/9/22).

We can do the same thing, make a splash so to speak, in our neighborhoods, in the places we find ourselves. Love the Lord your God. Love your neighbor as yourself. Love others the way Jesus loves you. This week, we’re going to get a chance to do that through VBS. We have lots of kids who are going to be pouring through these doors tomorrow night, and yes, some of them are “our” kids, the ones Ginger and her team get to love on every week. But there will be others who come in through these doors wondering if all this talk about Jesus and his love is real. Is it just something we say but don’t really believe? I’ve worked VBS long enough to know they will try to push the volunteers, to see if this Jesus really makes any kind of difference. Our response must be to love them the way Jesus loves us, even when they push all our buttons. When people at your job or in your family don’t act in loving ways, when they make choices that are not healthy or not helpful, the Jesus choice is to love them the way he loves us. And that’s not always easy. Sometimes the loving response is to stop them before they hurt themselves. I don’t care how much you want to do that destructive thing, I wouldn’t be loving if I didn’t try to stop you. I don’t condemn you, but you need to leave your life of sin. Friends, that’s the whole purpose of our Celebrate Recovery ministry, to love people with the love of Jesus while at the same time helping them leave a destructive path. And sometimes those who are determined to harm themselves will lash out; love them anyway. Sometimes they will say unkind things; love them like Jesus anyway. When people cut you off in traffic, when they speak ill of you, when they loudly disagree with you on social media, when they just act in generally unloving ways, love them anyway, the way Jesus loves us. The way Philip loved the Ethiopian eunuch. The way God so loved the world that he sent Jesus so that whosoever believes would not perish (cf. John 3:16). That kind of love brings life and will make a splash throughout eternity. Let’s pray to become that kind of people.