We'll understand it better bye and bye

The evening meal was in progress, and the devil had already prompted Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot, to betray Jesus. Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.

He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” John 13:2-7

Of the four Gospels, only John tells us about Jesus washing the disciples’ feet.

We shouldn’t let our familiarity with this story blunt a sense of wonder – by doing this Jesus wasn’t just giving a lesson in humility; he was saying something truly breathtaking about the very nature of God. Short of the cross itself, where else might we see such a vivid demonstration of the sheer, tender love of God? - Jesus on his knees; Jesus wrapped in a towel; Jesus with a bowl of water; Jesus taking the part of the lowliest, most menial slave – Christian, here is your God!

No wonder Simon Peter protested: this was – well, it was just all wrong. “Lord, there’s no way you can wash my feet! I won’t allow it!” “No?” says Jesus; “well, in that case I’m afraid you can have nothing to do with me”. Whereupon Peter changes his mind…

That’s the essence of the story. But there’s a detail that perhaps we tend to gloss over, but which is worth reflecting on because it applies not only to that one particular event just before the crucifixion, but to all sorts of events in the life of any and every Christian, including you and me. Jesus said to Peter, “You do not realise now what I am doing, but later you will understand”.

Later you will understand… That, surely, is a beautiful promise to every person who is serious about following Jesus; something to give us comfort and hope.

Peter just couldn’t understand what Jesus was doing that day. And in the same way, there are times when we simply can’t see what God is up to in our lives. “Why, Lord?” we cry; “I just don’t get it!”

It may be a serious disappointment. We really had thought God was shepherding us in a particular direction, perhaps work-wise or marriage-wise. And then it all falls apart and life seems to have lost its zest and meaning.

It may be illness or even tragedy. Something happens that we won’t “get over in time”, but which will change life permanently, leaving us to make a massive and painful adjustment, possibly tempting us to bitterness and self-pity.

It may be something completely random, out of the blue, something for which we weren’t responsible and over which we have no control. And, very understandably we cry, “Why me, Lord?” (It’s hard not to think about the ordinary people of Ukraine at the moment…)

As we survey the sadnesses and mysteries of our lives we might very well shrug our shoulders and say, “Oh well, that’s life!” And we would be right: that is life.

But this is where trust in a loving God makes all the difference – the difference between resignation and acceptance.

Resignation is essentially negative: “Oh well, that’s life, I suppose – there’s no understanding it, and nothing I can do about it, so I’ll just try to put up with it”. But acceptance is positive: “True, that’s life. And no, I don’t understand it, and I’m not pretending I like it, because I don’t. But if the God I believe in – the God made known to us supremely in Jesus - really is my loving heavenly Father, then I will cling to him by my very finger-nails and cry out to him even if through gritted teeth”. Spot the difference?

The great Bible example, of course, is Joseph, son of Jacob (Genesis 37-50).

He is hated by his older brothers. True, you could say that some of his troubles he brought on himself, but he certainly paid a big price for it. His brothers plan to kill him, and end up selling him into slavery in Egypt.

He becomes a servant of Potiphar, the captain of Pharaoh’s guard. Potiphar’s wife tries to seduce him, and when he resists her she tells Potiphar lies about him. Result: he lands in prison.

Here he meets two more of Pharaoh’s servants, his baker and his cupbearer, and becomes friendly with them. On the cupbearer’s release he pleads with him to mention him to Pharaoh; but “the chief cupbearer did not remember Joseph; he forgot him” and left him to rot in prison for two more years.

Then comes the big turnaround. Joseph has the gift of interpreting dreams, and when Pharaoh is troubled by dreams the cupbearer at last remembers him and tells Pharaoh about him. The result this time: he is appointed to be second only to Pharaoh in the whole of Egypt. Rags to riches indeed.

Joseph probably thought he would never see his brothers again. But he does: in time of famine they come to Egypt begging for food, and Joseph is the official they find themselves dealing with. He recognises them, but they don’t him.

The climax of the story comes in chapter 45, when Joseph, weeping, makes himself known to them. And he does so with these wonderful words: “I am your brother Joseph, the one you sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed and do not be angry with yourselves for selling me here, because it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you…” (verse 5).

How often had Joseph, in his earlier misery, asked that big question: Why, Lord?

We don’t know. But what we do know is that the great word of Jesus to Simon Peter came true for him: “Later you will understand”.

And so will we!

Father, thank you that in your purposes all things really do work for the good of those who love you. Please help me to hold on to that through thick and thin. Amen.

The woman at the bus-stop

 

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Genesis 1:1

A well-known newspaper journalist, a declared atheist, was walking home through the City of London just before midnight. As he paused at a junction a young man on a Deliveroo bike pulled up beside him and asked him if he “believed in the Lord Jesus”. He replied that he believed in him as a loved and respected human figure, but not as the son of God; that in fact he didn’t believe in God at all.

Let the journalist finish the story in his own words… “The cyclist paused to think. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘Jesus loves you even if you won’t acknowledge him. I will pray for you.’ And with that, he cycled off. I walked on, curiously moved.”

What simple, honest words those are: “I walked on, curiously moved”! Why, I wonder, should a definite unbeliever have found himself reacting in that way.

That little story struck me particularly because of something that had happened to me the previous day. I was waiting at a bus-stop, and the bus was a long time coming. A woman waiting with me told me she was heading for the local hospital where her husband, a diabetic, was seriously ill: “They’re talking about taking his leg off”.

I commiserated as best I could, but I felt there was little I could do except listen for as long as she needed. We parted and went our separate ways. Within minutes I was telling myself off: “Why didn’t I say, very simply, ‘I’ll be praying for you and your husband today’”?

Was it because I am British, and we Brits are pretty hesitant about sharing personal convictions? Or because, as a young Christian, I had had it dinned into me that you shouldn’t “ram your religion down people’s throats” (I did a bit of that in my early days…)? Or perhaps because to suggest prayer might have seemed like taking advantage of her at a vulnerable time?

Perhaps a bit of each. But whatever, I felt not just that I had missed an opportunity but, much more important, that I had failed her. If God is God and controls all things, that encounter at the bus-stop wasn’t just coincidence. If the atheistic journalist was “curiously moved” by the simple words of the cyclist, why wouldn’t a woman with a very sick husband, plus a willingness – indeed a need – to tell a total stranger about him – why shouldn’t she also feel a touch of God upon her? Who knows, that five minutes’ conversation could have changed her life. If only…

Of course it goes without saying that as Christians we shouldn’t force our beliefs on other people – one wonders how much harm and damage has been done by those who do.

But imposing your faith on somebody inappropriately is one thing; quietly and courteously suggesting that there is a God the other person could turn to is very different.

God is the great “given” of the Bible. There he is in the very first verse, simply taken for granted, and there he is right through. It never seeks to prove his existence, never mind to browbeat people into believing in him; it simply assumes that he is there – and that he is available to those who reach out to him. It is, after all, “the fool” who “says in his heart ‘There is no God’…” (Psalm 14:1). It’s no accident that, according to various surveys, the majority of people pray. The early Christian teacher Augustine, bishop of Hippo in north Africa, said in prayer “Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you”, and that basic truth has been proved by untold millions of people.

Of course I have to be realistic. The woman at the bus-stop, for all I know, might very well have rejected my offer of prayer; she might have angrily replied “Don’t talk to me about that sort of thing! I’ve no time for it, thank you very much”. But I really don’t think so: her openness and honesty were such as to make me feel there was more to it than that.

And as for the journalist, I happened to know that he had had a Christian upbringing, and that he had a very high opinion of various Christians he knew. Possibly that explains the way the cyclist’s words touched him; they touched a spring deep inside him. But that doesn’t make them any less real.

Where is this leading?

If I can put it in down-to-earth language: There’s a lot more “religion” about than we often realise! We are told that people are just not religious any more. But is that in fact true? Could it be that people are more open to it than we know?

Another story… Many years ago I worked in a hospital as a part-time chaplain in a town where the main industry was steel. I used to move from bed to bed, taking care not to impose myself on anyone who might not welcome it. Just a few minutes’ friendly chat.

But sometimes, as I moved on, I would say something like “Well, I wish you God’s blessing”.

I’ll never forget the day when an elderly, craggy steel-worker looked at me, said nothing, and burst into tears. I felt that I must apologise: whereupon he said “Don’t worry – it’s just that nobody has ever wished me God’s blessing before.”

I know that a couple of little stories prove nothing; but perhaps they point in a particular direction? How many people around us – devoid, it seems, of any form of religion – are, to use the words of Jesus, “not far from the kingdom of God”?

Father, give me eyes to see, a heart to respond to, and words to bless people in need of your touch on their lives. Amen.

The evangelist, the charlatan, and the convert (4)

Now an angel of the Lord said to Philip, “Go south to the road—the desert road—that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.” So he started out, and on his way he met an Ethiopian eunuch, an important official in charge of all the treasury of the Kandake (which means “queen of the Ethiopians”). This man had gone to Jerusalem to worship, and on his way home was sitting in his chariot reading the Book of Isaiah the prophet. The Spirit told Philip, “Go to that chariot and stay near it.”

Then Philip ran up to the chariot and heard the man reading Isaiah the prophet. “Do you understand what you are reading?” Philip asked.

“How can I,” he said, “unless someone explains it to me?” So he invited Philip to come up and sit with him… Acts 8:26-40

He dominates these fifteen verses of the Bible (please read right through to verse 40), then he disappears, never to be seen or heard of again. What a mysterious and intriguing figure! The Ethiopian eunuch… the Bible would be a far poorer book without his story.

The evangelist Philip has been told by God to head for a “desert road” on the way to Gaza. He comes across a “chariot” (probably more like a lumbering ox-drawn cart) which is carrying an important-looking figure, and the Holy Spirit tells him to go alongside it. He hears the man in the chariot reading (it was normal at that time to read out loud) and recognises the words: Hey, that’s Isaiah 53!

Possibly with his heart in his mouth he shouts up, “Do you understand what you are reading?” And instead of “Mind your own business – clear off!” the man shouts back, “How can I, unless someone explains it to me?” And he invites Philip to come up and sit with him.

And so, having got used to preaching Jesus to big crowds in Samaria, Philip now has the task – and the privilege - of telling just one person about him. God does indeed “move in mysterious ways”!

What do we know about this man?

He was almost certainly black. He was almost certainly not a Jew, but he obviously had a keen interest in the Jewish faith, for he had travelled all the way from the northern Nile region to Jerusalem to worship God, and he had got hold of part at least of the Hebrew scriptures. A spiritually-minded man.

He was a eunuch, which meant that, however much he may have wanted it, he could never be a full member of the people of Israel (see Deuteronomy 23:1). He occupied an important position in his home country – he was, so to speak, the chancellor of the exchequer of the Kandake or “the Queen of the Ethiopians”.

But he was also humble and teachable. Philip must have cut a pretty bedraggled figure, tramping his way through this unfriendly terrain, yet the eunuch welcomes him and even asks for his instruction.

Perhaps above all, he was ripe for conversion. No doubt Luke has abridged considerably the way the conversation went, but we get the impression that just as God had prepared Philip for this encounter (verses 26 and 29), so too he had prepared the eunuch. This is a wonderful case of the “providence” of God: on that memorable day, and at that memorable moment (verse 27), Philip and the eunuch were meant for one another. And in very little time he gets baptised (verse 38).

We know nothing of what happened to the eunuch. But it’s reasonable to assume that in the coming days Africa received her first missionary, and the gospel was planted in that continent.

I said at the beginning that after these fifteen verses the eunuch is never seen or heard of again in the Bible. But perhaps that isn’t strictly true…

What about the prophecy of Jesus in Luke 13:29: “People will come from east and west and north and south, and will take their places in the kingdom of God”. The eunuch, coming from the south, was surely part of the fulfilment of that prophecy.

And what about the vision of John in Revelation 7:9: “After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no-one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the lamb”. I reckon that if you look very, very closely you will be able to see the eunuch in that crowd…

A final thought… The passage the eunuch was reading that day, which Philip explained as pointing the way to Jesus, was Isaiah 53:7-8: “He was led like a sheep to the slaughter, and as a lamb before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth… his life was taken from the earth”.

But I wonder if, as he went on his journey, he read on a couple of chapters and came to Isaiah 56:3-5. Just listen to this: “Let no foreigner who is bound to the Lord say, ‘The Lord will surely exclude me from his people.’ And let no eunuch complain, ‘I am only a dry tree.’ For this is what the Lord says: ‘To the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths and choose what pleases me and hold fast to my covenant – to them I will give within my temple and its walls a memorial and a name better than sons and daughters…’”.

I love to think that he did indeed read those words – and that they triggered a gasp in his throat and brought tears to his eyes.

No wonder he “went on his way rejoicing”!

Lord Jesus Christ, thank you that you are for all people, regardless of race or colour. And thank you for the providence of God which orders our days and our ways so that we might be of use to you. Please make me sensitive to your leading day by day. Amen.

The evangelist, the charlatan, and the convert (3)

Now for some time a man named Simon had practiced sorcery in the city and amazed all the people of Samaria. He boasted that he was someone great, and all the people, both high and low, gave him their attention and exclaimed, “This man is rightly called the Great Power of God.” They followed him because he had amazed them for a long time with his sorcery. But when they believed Philip as he proclaimed the good news of the kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ, they were baptized, both men and women. Simon himself believed and was baptized. And he followed Philip everywhere, astonished by the great signs and miracles he saw. Acts 8:9-13

Every now and then you come across people who have got drawn into a cult or sect, usually - in Britain at any rate - the Jehovah’s Witnesses or Mormons. But sometimes it’s rather more exotic, probably something you read about rather than experience directly.

Just a few days ago in the Times newspaper I read about a decidedly suspect guru in India who has grown a massive following, including what almost seems like a harem of female disciples. “Oh well, you don’t get that sort of thing in Britain”, I thought – only then to read about something rather similar… in, if I remember, Coventry. This one had grown out of a Christian church.

The fact is that strange religious movements are rife throughout the world, though most of them probably don’t hit the headlines.

This shouldn’t surprise us, for both the Bible and Christian history are full of it, and full of warnings against it. And here in Acts 8 we come across a perfect example in the person of “Simon the Magician”, or Simon Magus as he is often known. Verses 9-24 describe quite an exciting episode.

Three questions can help us to get to know him a little…

1.   Who was Simon?

Luke tells us that he was the local religious celebrity. He “had practised sorcery in the city and amazed all the people of Samaria” (verse 9). It seems he really did have some kind of supernatural powers – in this he reminds me of the Egyptian sorcerers who were able to replicate what Moses did by the power of God (Exodus 7:8-13).

This reminds us that such gurus and cult-leaders are to be taken seriously: the things they do may be real, though by demonic rather than God-given powers.

But as well as these powers, Simon also made great claims for himself – so much so that “the people… exclaimed ‘This man is rightly called the Great Power of God’” (verse10). There’s no way of knowing exactly what that meant, but it certainly seems as if Simon saw himself as some kind of divine presence on earth. And (this is the point) the Samaritan people lapped it up.

The lesson? There is no limit to people’s gullibility. Never be surprised at how easily they can be taken in!

2.   What did Simon get right?

Answer: he accepted the message preached by Philip: “Simon himself believed and was baptised…” (verse 13).

There’s no reason to doubt the sincerity of Simon’s faith. Later events make clear how shallow and untaught it was; he seems to have been dazzled by the miraculous deeds Philip did more than changed by the message Philip preached. But given that all this was fresh and new, he can hardly be blamed for that.

The lesson? The moment of anyone’s “conversion” is of course very important. But it’s only the starting-point. It needs to be followed up by careful teaching and pastoral oversight. Jesus, after all, told his followers to “Go and make disciples” (Matthew 28:19) – not just converts.

3.   What did Simon get wrong?

This sad part of the story is told in verses 18-24.

The apostles back in Jerusalem heard about the events in Samaria and decided to send Peter and John to find out exactly what was going on. (It’s rather beautiful, by the way, that the same John who had earlier wanted to “call down fire from heaven to destroy” a Samaritan village (Luke 9:54) is now shown calling down… the Holy Spirit!)

For reasons it’s not easy to understand, Peter and John saw that though big crowds of people believed in Philip’s message, the Holy Spirit had not been given to them, as on the Day of Pentecost. So they “placed their hands on them, and they received the Holy Spirit” (verse 17). (Presumably this was confirmed by the gift of speaking in tongues.)

This is where Simon went badly wrong. When he saw the power that Peter and John exercised through the laying on of their hands, he “offered them money” to be given the same power.

It’s as if he is saying, “Look we belong to the same profession, we three; we’re in the magic business, aren’t we? Now, I’m pretty well off financially. So how much would you want to give me this particular trick?” (verses 18-19).

To which Peter replies (translating verse 20 fairly loosely) “To hell with you and your money!”. And in verses 20-23 he gives him a ferocious telling off. Though he has only just been baptised, he informs him that he is still “full of bitterness and captive to sin”.

In verse 24 Simon gives the impression of being truly sorry – or was he just scared out of his wits? We aren’t told what happened. But the warning is pretty clear. The love of God is all about grace, which means it’s completely free to those who ask. Once the preaching of the Christian faith gets mixed up with money and even becomes a means of getting rich, beware!

We don’t know what became of Simon Magus, though all sorts of stories sprang up in the first few centuries of the church. But he has the doubtful privilege of giving his name to a sin which has often blighted the church: “simony” is defined as “the act of selling church offices and roles or sacred things”.

Corruption; rottenness!

Mind you, given the way the story is left hanging, I wouldn’t abandon hope of meeting Simon Magus in heaven, would you?

Father, we recognise how easily corruption can take root even in your church and even among genuine believers in Jesus. Help us to be completely pure when it comes to matters of money, power, popularity and influence. Amen.

The evangelist, the charlatan, and the convert (2)

Those who had been scattered preached the word wherever they went. Philip went down to a city in Samaria and proclaimed the Messiah there. When the crowds heard Philip and saw the signs he performed, they all paid close attention to what he said. For with shrieks, impure spirits came out of many, and many who were paralyzed or lame were healed. So there was great joy in that city. Acts 8:4-8

So… what do we know about Philip, the man at the heart of this remarkable revival in Samaria?

We saw last time that this isn’t the Philip who’s one of the twelve apostles, but the Philip chosen by the early church as one of the seven “deacons” (Acts 6:1-6). Taking Acts 8 as a whole there’s a lot we can learn from him – and a lot to admire…

First, he is a man of several parts.

Those verses in Acts 6 tell us that he and his colleagues were chosen “to wait on tables” (verse 2) - which probably covers various jobs to do with practical matters, administration and money - leaving “the Twelve” to concentrate on “the ministry of the word of God”. The apostles had their priorities right.

Yet here in chapter 8 we find him preaching the gospel and leading a dramatic spiritual revival. (And where we meet him again in chapter 21 he is described as “Philip the evangelist, one of the Seven”.)

The point being that whatever else he was, he was far more than simply a “waiter on tables” (wishing no respect here to waiters!).

In some churches a division is made between the “spiritual” leaders (perhaps called “elders”?) and the “practical” leaders (“deacons”?), with the implication that the nuts and bolts people don’t have to be as “spiritual” as the eldership. But Philip (and Stephen, come to that) make it clear that this is wrong.

The basic principle is simple: anyone shouldering responsibility in church life should be of the highest spiritual character: to borrow the words of Acts 6:3, “full of the Spirit and wisdom”.

So… No two-tier leadership!

Second, he is open to God’s leading.

In chapter 8 Philip does quite a bit of moving around. In verse 5 he moves from Jerusalem to Samaria. In verse 26 he is told by an angel to leave Samaria and head for “the desert road that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza”. In verse 29 he is told by the Spirit to “go to that chariot and stay near it”. And in verse 40 he “appears at Azotus” and preaches the gospel “in all the towns until he until he reaches Caesarea”.

You can look at a Bible dictionary if you want to find out where those places are. But the point is this: if God said go, Philip went. The original journey to Samaria seems to have been dictated by circumstances – the scattering after Stephen’s death – but then it’s “an angel” who directs him (why did God choose to use an angel, we wonder?), then “the Spirit” (verse 29), and, to finish off, some unspecified but possibly miraculous mode of transport (verse 39).

Most Christians find that being sure of God’s guidance can be difficult (the occasional angel would come in handy!). But still, our Father God is a God who guides and directs his people. Our business is to follow his direction, even in the rather more routine circumstances of our lives.

Do we, like Philip, have the spiritual antennae to pick up, through prayer or conversation – or simply through circumstances – what he wants us to do?

This is the secret of a useful and satisfying life – to pray simply “Father, what do you want me to do and where do you want me to go?” and then to respond accordingly. It may be to go to some distant part of the world. Or to pop across the road to see a neighbour. But remaining fairly and squarely within the will of God is key.

So… Walk with God day by day!

Third, he knew his Bible.

Philip “proclaimed the Messiah” in Samaria (verse 5). And then, in a complete change of gear, he explained the scriptures one-to-one to the Ethiopian (verse 35). He didn’t, of course, have the whole Bible, as we do. But it’s clear that he was knowledgeable enough to convince both large crowds and an audience of one.

God doesn’t expect us all to be theologians or preachers. But being useful to him does require a working knowledge of the Bible. And there is no short cut to that: it requires patient, careful, disciplined reading day by day.

So… Is that part of the pattern of our lives?

Fourth, God gifted him with spiritual power.

Let’s leave Philip where we first met him, in Samaria (verses 4-8). Luke tells us about “the signs he performed” as well as the gospel he preached. There were dramatic healings and alarming exorcisms – all sufficient to set a whole city on fire.

We probably don’t expect that kind of result when the gospel is preached in our day – and, let’s be honest, we possibly wouldn’t entirely welcome it if it happened! But often we settle for something far less: a bland and innocuous teaching of God’s word, accompanied by a vague prayer that God will use it. (I’m very much speaking to myself here.)

Have we lost any expectation of the power of the Holy Spirit to work among us? True, we can’t have the Spirit to order. But we can pray and prepare in such a way as to make his coming possible. This is one of the greatest needs of the modern church. Power!

Jesus’ earthly ministry was accompanied by great displays of power. So were the events of the day of Pentecost. So were the Philip-led events in those remarkable days in Samaria.

So… Why not now? Why not where you and I live?

Thank you, Father, for your servant Philip the evangelist and the unknown numbers of Christians who, like him, have served you faithfully both in the glare of publicity and in personal relationships. Help me to be like him. Amen.

the evangelist, the charlatan, and the convert (1)

Those who had been scattered preached the word wherever they went. Philip went down to a city in Samaria and proclaimed the Messiah there. When the crowds heard Philip and saw the signs he performed, they all paid close attention to what he said. For with shrieks, impure spirits came out of many, and many who were paralyzed or lame were healed. So there was great joy in that city. Acts 8:4-8

God can bring good things out of bad.

That’s a great truth that many generations of Christians have proved in their own experience: sickness, unemployment, persecution, poverty, failure, bereavement, you name them – however distressing and painful they may be at the time, God can and does bring great good out of them.

The tragic death of Stephen (Acts 7) is a good example. Probably still a relatively young man, no doubt with a wife and children, he is stoned to death for a message he preached to the Jewish council shortly after the day of Pentecost. Luke tells us that “godly men buried him and mourned deeply for him” (Acts 8:2). They were unashamed of their grief.

To make matters worse, fear that the same thing might happen to them drove many of the early Jesus-followers to flee Jerusalem and look for safety elsewhere. With the result… well, look at the verses above. A Pentecost-like revival broke out in Samaria and “there was great joy in that city”.

At the heart of the spiritual revival in Samaria was Philip. This wasn’t the Philip who was one of Jesus’ original twelve. No: he was one of the seven men (Stephen was another) chosen by the church to serve as “deacons” (that’s the title they have often been given in church history) according to Act 6:1-7. We don’t read anything more about him in the New Testament, though he pops up again in Acts 21:8 as “Philip the evangelist”.

Philip is the central actor in the drama of Acts 8, and he is well worth focussing on. The other main characters are Simon Magus (verses 9-24) – a “sorcerer” or magician; we might call him a charlatan – and the Ethiopian eunuch (verses 26-40). I want to devote the next three blogs to each of these men in turn, under the general heading “The evangelist, the charlatan and the convert”.

But first, today, a comment on the main theme of chapter 8: that is, evangelism.

Evangelism, of course, basically means bringing people to faith in Christ. It’s what Jesus told his disciples to do after he ascended into heaven: “Go and make disciples” (Matthew 28:16-20). What is particularly interesting about Acts 8 is that it shows us two completely different types of evangelism.

(1)

Verses 4-25 are all about what today might be called “mass evangelism”, the preaching of the gospel to crowds of people. Looking back over church history perhaps the most famous examples are John Wesley and George Whitfield in the eighteenth century, and Billy Graham in the twentieth.

This type of evangelism goes right back to John the Baptist and Jesus, of course. The Gospels make it clear that often when Jesus preached in even quite remote places, enormous numbers of people flocked to hear him. With him it was all unplanned and spontaneous, whereas today, in the western world at least, it is far more likely to be well-organised.

But whatever, the basic intention is that many people should hear the gospel at the same time, and the aim and expectation is that some at least will become followers of Jesus.

That certainly happened in Samaria! “When the crowds heard Philip and saw the signs that he did, they all paid close attention to him” (verse 6). As in the ministry of Jesus, remarkable miracles accompanied the preaching of God’s word.

This is not something we often see in the western world today; but there are reports of it from Africa, Latin America and elsewhere. It is open to criticism sometimes for being over-emotional and even manipulative of impressionable people. And yes, no doubt there are times when criticism is due – especially when the evangelists involved seem overly concerned with getting people to part with their money.

But we shouldn’t be too cynical or sceptical. Personally, I would welcome a modern-day Philip, wouldn’t you? Why not? – as long as the people involved were humble, truly called, and gifted by God, and everything was soaked in the Holy Spirit.

Is this something we should be more keen to pray for?

(2)

But this must never displace the second type of evangelism we find in Acts 8: personal evangelism. Here, again, Philip is the person to focus on.

We can picture him revelling in the success of his ministry in Samaria; every new day must have brought new challenges and excitement. And then, remarkably, this: “An angel of the Lord said to Philip, ‘Go south to the road – the desert road – that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza’. So he started out…” (verses 26-27).

What strange things God sometimes does! Why pluck Philip out of his breath-taking ministry and send him into the desert! Answer, because he wanted him to meet just one single individual.

But we’ll come back to that next time…

For now, let’s simply mull over the question: Evangelism, of whatever kind… do I take it seriously?

Lord Jesus, you are the greatest good news this world has ever received. Please help me not to keep you to myself! Help me to be an evangelist! Amen.

Thank you, Robin Hood

Everyone must die once… Hebrews 9:27 (Good News Bible)

I had a very welcome letter the other day from Robin Hood. (In case you don’t know, Robin Hood is the name of the company that runs the buses in Nottingham, where we live; forget that chap with the bows and arrows.) They had sent me my right to continuing “free concessionary travel” – otherwise known as my new bus pass. There was my name, my mugshot – and then the information: Expiry date:13 June 2027.

Ah. When I read that part I couldn’t help muttering under my breath “that’s assuming I don’t ‘expire’ first!”. On the 13 June 2027 – assuming I make it that far – I’ll be eighty. And we mustn’t take anything for granted, must we?

All of us know from early years that (unless we belong to the last generation before Christ’s return) we are going to die. We live with that knowledge and, for most of our lives, probably just try to push it to the back of our minds. And then, as when I opened that letter, and courtesy of Robin Hood, we get a sharp reminder…

Well, we had a bit of a laugh, my wife and I. And why not? At the heart of the Christian faith lies the truth of Christ crucified and risen from the dead. Jesus really died, and really rose again.

The Bible contains many passages which are non-literal – they are truths presented in metaphors or other figures of speech. But this isn’t one of them. The four Gospel-writers, all telling the same factual story, meant that story to be taken as sober history. This actually happened! This man Jesus overcame death! And the promise is that his victory is given to anyone who puts their trust in him. Which means, among other things: just as he rose, so will we.

Paul spells it out as clearly as you could want: “For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his” (Romans 6:5). (Note that “if”, of course.)

You might say “Well, it’s all very well for a couple in their retirement to treat death light-heartedly, but what about those who ‘go before their time’?”, and you’d be perfectly entitled to do so, with a frown on your face.

I don’t mean to make light of it – it’s just the way it was when that letter arrived. Of course, we all shrink from death. And the same Bible that triumphantly declares the miracle of the resurrection also calls death “the last enemy” – the last enemy, it’s true: but still an enemy.

God has treated my wife and me (she’s a few years behind me, by the way) with great – and, of course, completely undeserved – gentleness. We enjoy retirement: reasonably comfortably off; reasonable health (though experiencing ever greater creakiness); children grown up and launched upon the world; grandchildren who bring us great joy.

And we are very well aware that it just isn’t like that for everyone, Christian or not. Our hearts sink every time we hear of someone twenty, thirty or forty years younger than us being taken, or even just threatened, by death. No; it’s no joking matter.

I have known Christians who refuse to recognise the sheer sadness of “early” deaths. Instead of looking it fair and square in the face they rejoice in a way that comes across as forced and artificial. I always want to point them to Acts 7, the story of the stoning of Stephen, the first Jesus-follower (there were no “Christians” at that time) to die after Pentecost.

Of course, we don’t know anything about Stephen’s age: he might have been well on in years. But somehow the impression we get is of a vigorous man still in the prime of life. Did he have a wife, children? Very likely.

Whatever, I am always grateful for what Luke tells us in Acts 8:2: “Godly men buried Stephen and mourned deeply for him”. I don’t think those godly men would have had the slightest doubt that Stephen had gone to share in Christ’s resurrection. But that didn’t stop them from giving vent to great grief.

Sadness and sorrow are part of our lot in life. Job 5:7 tells us that “man is born to trouble, as the sparks fly upwards”, where that image of sparks flying off the fire, or perhaps off the anvil, graphically conveys the inevitability of trouble, pain and tears.

But then at the end of the Bible John has his extraordinary vision of what is to come: “God will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain…” (Revelation 21:4). The tears are real, and they may be bitter; but God has a tissue big enough for them all.

Thanks be to God for his lordship over death!

Dear Father, Thank you that because of Jesus we can look death fairly and squarely in the face. May that great truth both bring us comfort, and also prompt us to live to the full all the days you give us on this earth. Amen.