Notes from a Sojourn
May 14, 2020
How Can You Believe It?
How can the Christian gospel – the “good news” of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection – become good news for my life?
I think this is an important question for us to ask ourselves in Easter Season for this reason: because it is one thing to say “I believe in the gospel” (in the same way I might believe in long division, tectonic plates, or germ theory), but it is another thing altogether to say “I believe the gospel.” The first statement is a matter of rational agreement (or at least pragmatic acceptance), but the second is a statement of personal trust – a trust that doesn’t hedge its bets, but rests in hope for what it cannot see but knows is under everything that makes life worth living.
The story of the apostle Philip’s encounter with the Ethiopian eunuch in Acts 8.26-40 is a beautiful illustration of how you or I might come to not merely believe in the gospel of Jesus Christ but to believe it.
The Ethiopian is a court official of Queen Candace’s royal treasury. He is esteemed by his colleagues, respected abroad as a diplomat, and exercises a great deal of power. Yet he bears a scar: he is a eunuch, a castrated man.
The meaning and significance of this particular sexual condition was as culturally varied then as it is now, but in the hands of Luke the Evangelist (the author of Acts) the salient point to bear in mind is that this particular scar excludes the Ethiopian from ever fully belonging and participating in the life of the People of God – as far as the Mosaic law is concerned.[1]
So, when we read that this prestigious Ethiopian is returning from Jerusalem, where he had gone in good faith to worship God, I imagine that he is returning humiliated. Perhaps he had never read the one verse in Deuteronomy that specifically prohibits sexually mutilated men from being included in the assembly of God’s worshippers; and when this law is used to scorn his attempt to worship among the them he is shamed. Was this the first time he had ever been shamed for bearing this scar? Maybe it had been a vocational choice (it was not uncommon for castrated males to hold positions of importance in ancient royal courts)? Or perhaps this mutilation was something that had been forced on him, an unwanted humiliation that he had spent his life working to overcome by personal accomplishments only to have his nose rubbed in it again. We cannot know for certain.
When Philip encounters this man, he is lingering over a passage from Isaiah’s prophecy about a servant of God whose fidelity to faith leads him to humiliation and condemnation by the world; yet it is this very thing that exonerates him in the eyes of God. What’s more, the life of this prophesied servant isn’t just exonerated, but “lifted up” from the earth – redeemed and restored to God. The Ethiopian asks Philip, “About whom is Isaiah referring when he writes this?” When Philip tells him it is Jesus the Christ, crucified, resurrected, and ascended, it is a moment of grace and truth for him: the Ethiopian recognizes himself in Jesus’ story and Jesus’ presence in his.
This startling fusion of identities – the convergence of his life in Christ’s and Christ’s life in his – is a moment of conversion. What had formerly been the site of his humiliation and shame is absorbed by God’s love by being transfigured into the likeness of Christ’s own humiliation. The Ethiopian experiences the whole of his life, including the site of his pain and humiliation, as “lifted up” and restored by the love, healing, and life-giving power of God. “Look at this water,” he says to Philip, “what prevents me from being baptized?” So Philip baptizes him right there and then.
How does the Christian gospel become good news for your life or mine? How can you believe it? When you, too, experience the whole of your life - including your sites of pain and humiliation - lifted up, raised, resurrected anew by the power of God’s love, forgiveness, and healing. Can you see your story in Christ’s and Christ’s presence in yours?
Colin+
[1] Deuteronomy 23.1
