“Philip ran over and heard him reading from the book of the prophet Isaiah; so he asked him, ‘Do you understand what you are reading?’ ‘How can I understand,’ the official replied, ‘unless someone explains it to me?’”                 (Acts 8:30-31)

The story of Philip and the Ethiopian official is a “stand alone” story in Acts. There is no previous lead-in to the story. There is no follow-up. Philip is led to this man. He engages him in conversation. He baptizes him. And he leaves. 

Who was Philip? Was he the same Philip we meet in the Gospels? We don’t know for sure. If he is the Philip of the Gospels, he’s also a skeptic. He’s one of the questioning disciples, like some of you, and like me at times. When there was a large crowd of people to feed, Philip is the one who says to Jesus, “Where will we find enough food for all of these people?” At the last supper when Jesus is explaining that he must go to be with God, Philip is the one who says, “Lord, show us the Father and we shall be satisfied.” 

But Philip the skeptic becomes Philip the evangelist. He found his courage. He found his conviction. He found his eagerness. He listened to the voice of the Spirit. He went where the Spirit led him. He embodied the song, “I will go where you want me to go, dear Lord, and I will do what you want me to do.” It’s a fairly large leap from asking all the questions to that kind of obedience. 

In this story Philip is led to a wilderness road. Luke says in his story that the road was no longer used. Philip might have said to himself, “Why have you put me here, Lord? Why in this place?” 

The Ethiopian official comes riding along in a fine carriage. We are given the impression that he was a wealthy man. He was a man of some power. He was a servant of the Queen’s court. He was apparently reading from the prophet Isaiah—probably from the suffering servant poems in that prophet’s writing. He is apparently a “God-fearer.” These were the people who were not specifically religious, but believed in some kind of a God without any focus. 

Philip is on foot, and he is prompted to run alongside the carriage. He hears him reading aloud from the prophet Isaiah. Two quick questions follow. Philip asks the man, “Do you understand what you are reading?” And the man replies, “How can I understand unless someone guides me?” Today we would call this Ethiopian official a “seeker.” 

So Philip invites himself into the seat beside the man. Luke says, “Philip told him the good news about Jesus.” The man asks if he can be baptized. Philip responds, “If you believe with all your heart.” The man says he does believe. So they stop by a stream, he is baptized, and then Philip is gone. That’s the end of the story. Philip is off to his next leading of the Spirit. The official is on his way home.  

I have reflected on this story in recent days, and that reflection takes me in several directions. 

WE HAVE A FAITH TO SHARE 

First of all, I am reminded that we have a faith to share. We have a belief system. We have an explanation of life. We have good news. I wonder what Philip actually said to the Ethiopian official. All Luke tells us is that he told the official the good news about Jesus.  

I’m not sure we are as good at telling the story as we should be. We may be good at sharing our beautiful building, with the garden service in the summer. We may talk enthusiastically about a youth ministry that is rapidly expanding. We may talk with some eagerness about a lot of support groups for grief and cancer and divorce. But can we share the good news of Jesus? 

Someone handed me an article written by a journalism student and a summer intern for a major newspaper in another part of the country. This young man had attended a “mega-church” for the past 10 years. That church had grown from several hundred people to over 10,000 members. He said the church offers a skating park, a sports league with greater enrollment than the city YMCA, a Starbucks-style café, a game room equipped with one-half dozen X-boxes, and live TV broadcasts around the building on 3 Jumbotrons. 

The intent of the building is to attract seekers. But to what are they attracted? A sanctuary worthy of a Broadway production? An auditorium mimicking a convention center? This young man comments, “I think I was attending a church that is a mile wide but only one inch deep.” And then he suggests that many of these churches sprang up to reject “hellfire” preaching. But what is now emerging is less than nourishing. 

Luke tells us in Acts that the main attraction is not the building, but Jesus. 

Seekers today are looking for meaning. They are looking for a relationship with the holy, the divine, the transcendent. They are looking for meat and potatoes significance. First-time visitors may enter this church and ask, “Where is the nursery?” or “Where is the Sunday school?” or “Where is the sanctuary?” But many are asking a deeper, unspoken question, something like this: “Where can I find meaning?” Maybe even, “Where can I find Jesus?” or “Can I find Jesus here?” 

Luke says we do have a faith to share. Let’s make sure we are ready and equipped to do it, to share it. 

MORE DIFFICULT TO DO 

That being said, telling the “telling” today is harder to do. Many lives are so preoccupied with cell phones and computers and pagers; many are so infected with iPods and electronic games and TiVos that they scarcely notice their deteriorating marriage. They scarcely notice their growing absence of meaningful friendships or a world in desperate need of saving. They don’t even notice a world in need of prayer. 

I came across an interesting story about a CEO of a major corporation. He traveled frequently throughout the country, with many executive responsibilities. He always traveled with his laptop and other devices close at hand. One day his administrative assistant received a frantic phone call from him. He said, “I’ve just landed at the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport. Why am I here?” 

Some people are waking up in a maze of technological wizardry, and they’re asking the question, “Why am I here?” This is where our faith story makes a life connection. 

But breaking through the busyness and pace of life is not easy. Two seminary students were going door-to-door, sharing their faith. At one house they walked through a gauntlet of screaming children and barking dogs. When they knocked on the door, a tired mother answered. The one student said, “We would like to tell you how to obtain eternal life.” There was a moment of silence, and then the mother said, “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t think I could stand it.” 

There is not only the clutter of life, but there is another difficulty. It’s hard to tell the story because people are less familiar with the story. Philip seemed to have little trouble with his “student.” The text says that he was reading from the suffering servant poems in Isaiah. He at least knew something was up with that passage. That’s not always true today. Two weeks ago I was doing some preaching at a Chautauqua-type community on Lake Erie. They had a prayer breakfast on Thursday morning, and I had a question-and-answer time. One of the questions I was asked was, “What are the biggest changes you have seen over your 40 years in ministry?” My answer was quick. “I’ve seen a change in the level of familiarity with the Bible’s story.” 

I cannot assume that people know the story when I prepare a sermon any more. A few people, yes. But many more, no—especially those who are minimally or marginally churched. I wonder if I asked for a show of hands, how many of you would say you knew the story of Philip and the Ethiopian official that I read this morning. 

Again there is that powerful statistic: “80% of American people under the age of 30 have no Christian memory.” Thankfully we have a growing population of young adults here. But the number outside the church without Christian memory is huge. 

I am beginning to prepare a series of messages for the fall season. I’m going to preach on some of the Old Testament mentors in our faith: Noah, Abraham, Moses, Joshua, Jonah, Jeremiah. I keep asking myself, will I or should I devote considerable time to re-telling their stories? 

Seminaries tell us that large numbers of students who apply to seminary today do not know the Christian story. That’s a bit appalling. It’s not necessarily a lack of faith, but a great lack of background. It makes the task of teaching in seminary so much harder. How do you interpret the theology of the story if you don’t know the basic elements of the story? 

I suppose that’s why the Disciple Bible Study has been so important here and elsewhere across the United Methodist Church. Disciple Bible Study seeks to acquaint or re-acquaint people of faith with our own story. It began as a 34-week study. It has been reduced and compacted to a number of eight-week segments. There’s a message in that change as well. But we have to know the story so we can tell the story and its meaning to others. All I know is that it is harder to do. It just is. 

At one time I used to tell a story about E. Stanley Jones. A man who was some kind of a seeker asked Dr. Jones one day to tell him about Jesus. E. Stanley Jones, never at a loss for words to talk about his Lord, spent a few minutes explaining Jesus to the man. The man thought for a moment and then he said this: “If what you say isn’t true, Dr. Jones, it doesn’t matter. But if what you say is true, nothing else matters.” 

The problem today is it will take us a lot longer to tell the story. 

LEARNING HOW TO RE-TELL THE STORY 

So what we need to do is to learn how to re-tell our story—to tell the old, old story in new, fresh ways. 

That’s what many of the seeker services and others are trying to do across the country today. They’re not all shallow. Some are really working hard at it. 

Elaine and I went to the Destinta Theater in Bridgeville a few weeks ago on a Sunday morning—not to see a movie, but to go to church. The Crossroads United Methodist Church has a service there at 10:00 on Sunday morning. It is a satellite ministry of their church out in the Oakdale section. It was an interesting experience. There was some good contemporary music and singing. The sermon was by way of video on the big screen in the theater. That was a little disorienting. There was a place on the handouts to take notes and fill in the blanks as he preached the sermon. I didn’t particularly like that at all. But he did use a very thoughtful and compelling movie video clip—a scene from the movie entitled “Schindler’s List.” That service at that theater is trying to reach a new generation of under-churched or marginally churched people. 

One of the disciplines of study in seminary is called “apologetics.” Apologetics means defending or articulating or presenting the faith in a clear manner. We need to find a new voice of apologetics today. 

The first sermon I ever preached while I was still in college used a text from the letter to Peter in the New Testament: “Always be ready to give an account for the hope that is in you.” But I need to be able to give an account in a fresh new way. It’s the same old story, but a new way of telling. 

I don’t think we should be copying what others are doing. But we discover the best way to tell our story in this setting. How do you and I discover how to tell the story from our hearts to the heart of another? 

The story of Philip and an Ethiopian official! It’s a small, somewhat obscure story with a large message.

• We have a faith to share—a savior to present to the world.
• We know that it’s harder to get that story across.
• But we need to tell our story.

I thought of all these things as I re-read this account in recent days. This little noticed narrative has a huge message for us today. Hear what the Spirit is saying to the church.