“Practice what you preach.”
That old saw is usually trotted out when some high profile “holier‑than‑thou” type has their wings clipped and their reputation riddled with holes. Or a “sterling” character is revealed to have feet of crumbling clay.
But there is one big problem with “practice what you preach.” It all depends on what it is you are “preaching.” When some convictions are put into action the results can be catastrophic or cruel, insidious or just plain evil. Mother Teresa practiced what she preached, but so too did Adolph Hitler. Osama bin Laden practiced what he preached, as did the Unabomber.
If only the church “practiced what it preached,” we say, then the community of faith that confesses “Jesus is Lord” would be the #1 purveyor of love and peace in the world. But once again, we need to consider carefully what is being “preached” and who is doing the “preaching.” When we get wrapped up in preaching a doctrine or a direction or a divine plan, we end up practicing things like “spiritual laws” or “strategic plans” or “target quotas.” But is that the kind of gospel mission and message presented in today’s text from Acts?
The power that “preached” to Philip; the power that “preached” to the Ethiopian eunuch in today’s Act’s text: that power was neither scripted nor strategic, neither planned nor programmed. It was the power of the Holy Spirit. It was the power of the Spirit of God working through one of Christ’s followers in surprising, remarkable, and unexpected ways.
For the first generation of Christians the gift of the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Christ made present within the human heart, was what made “Christianity” a living reality. There was no preconceived idea for “church growth,” no specific guidelines for “mission expansion” or “church planting.” There was only the openness of disciples to the wonder‑working power of the Spirit.
In other words, the first generation of Jesus’ followers did not “practice what they preached.” Instead they “preached what they practiced.” And what they “practiced,” first and foremost, was the presence of the Spirit. What they “practiced” was incarnating Christ by listening to and obeying the presence of the Holy Spirit in their lives.
For Philip “practicing” the Holy Spirit, or what later Christians would call “practicing the presence,” meant leaving Peter and John and a successful missionizing arena in Samaria in order to wander by himself down a hot road in the middle of nowhere, a road headed vaguely towards Gaza. Philip doesn’t have a “plan.” Philip doesn’t even have a map. Philip only has a “practice” — a practice of acting according to the directives of the Holy Spirit.
It is only because he lets the Holy Spirit guide his feet and guard his focus that he finds himself in just the right place at just the right time. No one could have ever “strategically planned” for an Ethiopian eunuch who was a “God‑fearer” (a Gentile who studied and revered the truth in Jewish scripture) tooling down a deserted desert track in the hot mid‑day sun. It took the intention and inspiration of the Holy Spirit to bring together one‑on‑one Christ’s disciple and Christ’s NEXT disciple.
The first century church did not expand geographically and embrace whole‑heartedly the diversity of people who came to call Jesus “the Christ” by programming and planning. Instead the first century church “practiced” the Holy Spirit. They “practiced” the presence of God. The first century church prayed and prophesied their way forward. Then they “preached” the “good news” — that is, the living presence of Jesus Christ in the lives of disciples.
Every person who confesses Christ and is baptized receives the Holy Spirit. From that moment on the Spirit of Christ is present within that disciple. But too often that “presence” is put on a shelf. The “presence” is side‑lined or side‑stepped, as other concerns take center stage.
There is a huge difference between the Spirit of Christ being present in every disciple’s life, and the Spirit of Christ being preeminent in every disciple’s life. Philip opened himself to the message of the Spirit and ran down a chariot in the middle of a desert road. He did not “trust his gut.” He did not consider the strange circumstances. He did not refuse to take a strange road to a strange place and offer his message to a strange man.
Philip let Christ’s Spirit take preeminence in his life.
Philip let Christ’s Spirit be the practice of his life.
Philip let that Spirit determine his path and his passion.
For the last month we have all been deluged with ”Titanic‑mania.” The one hundred year anniversary of the Titanic tragedy has spawned a new 3‑D release of the film, a National Geographic mini‑sub exploration special, and a fresh upwelling of Titanic minutia and memorabilia. Why is it that a shipwreck that happened one hundred years ago still holds our attention, still feeds our fascination?
The Titanic was considered the singular greatest scientific, mechanical, man‑made marvel of its day. The beautiful, enormous, exceptionally engineered ship represented the epitome of modern design, scientific genius, and human creativity. The “Titanic” was not just a ship. It was the “practice” of perfect human achievement made manifest.
And then it sank. It sank on its maiden voyage. Over 1500 people died. Everything “Titanic” represented was suddenly leaden and dead wrong.
Her design — obviously fatally flawed.
Her science‑certified perfection — catastrophically collapsed.
Her representation of human perfectibility — sunk to the bottom of the sea.
Suddenly the “practice” that everyone was “preaching” was broken and worthless. The “practice” of faith in human technology and human power had cost a great number of human lives, even as it had demonstrated how hollow faith in human achievements could ring.
It is hard to imagine this kind of optimism in human ability and technology. By the early 20th century, we were heady with our own self-importance and human progress. Scottish physicist Lord Kelvin believed that all that remained for scientists to do was to measure physical constants to the next decimal place in accuracy. The Prussian Patent Office closed down in the belief that there were no more inventions to be made.
But perhaps Andrew Carnegie, the steel magnate and industrialist philanthropist, expressed the confidence in human ability best. In 1914 Carnegie gave 2 million dollars (which would be over $20 million today) to establish the interreligious “Church Peace Union” ‑‑ later renamed the Council on Religion and International Affairs. Carnegie said: “it is too bad that the churches cannot have some funds for peace work. They could really do more than any other institution in existence.” In giving the funds, he stipulated that should world peace come before the money ran out, the trustees should use the money for the alleviation of global poverty. And if human poverty were eliminated and there was still money left, then the trustees should feel free to invest in other good causes at their discretion.
Can you begin to imagine it? Can we even begin to comprehend that kind of naive confidence in our abilities and skills?
And yet that is exactly what we practice daily in our trusting in programs, plans, processes, technology, maps. Instead we are being invited in today’s text to live like Philip, not trusting in our own ability to program and plan, to design and direct, but trusting in the Spirit. In the words of Zechariah 4:6: “Not by might, not by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord.” Not by might, not by power, not by programs, not by processes, but by God’s spirit.
It is time the Holy Spirit had practical relevance in our lives through its dispatch and direction. The Holy Spirit is more than a doctrine or a strategy. The Holy Spirit is a presence that we practice. Theology should be nothing more, or less, than the Holy Spirit working its way through our lives. The church should be nothing more, or less, than the laboratory of the Spirit at work in the world. And the Holy Spirit moves and manifests its presence through prayer, through prophesy, through disciplines of the Spirit.
We aren’t our own, and we don’t have to make it on our own. We can relinquish our Titanic pretensions, and Carnegie illusions. It is time our laboratories of the Spirit practice the presence, and then preach what we practice.
You’ve been baptized. So the Holy Spirit is present in your life. But will the Holy Spirit be preeminent in your life this week?
The Holy Spirit led Philip to the Ethiopian eunuch.
Where will the Holy Spirit lead you this week?
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COMMENTARY
The content of Luke’s second volume of work — The Acts of the Apostles — is summed up in Acts 1:8: “You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth."
Embracing and embodying that directive is the continuous theme of Acts. Today’s text is the first of three startling conversion stories that demonstrate just how all encompassing is this directive. The conversions of the Ethiopian eunuch (8:26‑40), Saul of Tarsus (9:1‑19), and Cornelius and his family (10:30‑48), dramatically demonstrate how “the ends of the earth” include the unacceptable, the enemy, the Gentile, the “other.”
Although entitled “The Acts of the Apostles” throughout, Luke repeatedly makes it clear that these “acts” are “acts” of God, worked out through the witness of those who confess Christ. In today’s text that assurance is declared at the outset as Philip is directed by “an angel of the Lord” to get on the road to Gaza. The angel’s directive is decidedly odd. It orders Philip away from his companions Peter and John and successful missional endeavors, and instead sends him out on his own into a scarcely inhabited desert region.
Even stranger, the term translated as “south” or “southward” (“meembria”) can also mean “noon” or “mid‑day.” In other words, Philip was being called to make this lonely trek out into the middle of nowhere in the heat of the day when all sensible people would be off the road and waiting for a cooler time to travel.
Yet Philip does exactly as he was told.
Following those strange instructions to an estranged place puts Philip directly in the path of danger. The key character is an exotic individual known as the “Ethiopian eunuch.” The place “Ethiopia” was the region referred to as “Cush” in Old Testament texts. It was south of Egypt in what today is part of Sudan. For Luke’s Jewish readers this man’s ethnicity would immediately recall the promise found in Isaiah 11:11, that God will gather together “the remnant of the people that is left, that which is left from Assyria, and from Ethiopia and from Babylon.”
This Ethiopian not only represented one of those “scattered from Judah.” As a eunuch he was also forever forbidden from being a full participant in Jewish life and worship (Deuteronomy 23:1). Despite his definite “outsider” status in the eyes of Israel, this man is also an “insider” to the world of power and authority among his own people. He is obviously wealthy (he has his own chariot and driver) and his carriage is of a respected figure within the royal household in Ethiopia. Everything about this individual emphasizes the exotic.
As Luke describes Philip’s encounter with this Ethiopian eunuch, he carefully constructs a scene that is intended to remind his Jewish readers of the actions of Elijah, another man sent on a mission by God. Philip receives his directions from “an angel of the Lord” (compare to 2 Kings 1:15), is whisked about bodily by the Spirit (see 1 Kings 18:12), and is instructed to run alongside the chariot of an important man and join him (see 1 Kings 18:46). Clearly Philip’s obedient response to and participation in all these divinely ordered directives puts him in a role akin to that of the prophet. Whatever the Spirit tells him to do, whatever the circumstances the Spirit drop him into, Philip continues with his witnessing mission.
As surprising as is the Ethiopian eunuch’s presence on that desert road, it is even more astonishing what he is doing: reading a portion from Jewish scripture. In accordance with tradition the man is reading the text out loud, allowing Philip to hear and recognize the scriptural portion as soon as he approaches the chariot. If Philip had harbored any doubts about the Spirit’s orders, they surely would have been put to rest as he heard those familiar words. Just as it was traditional to read the Torah out loud, so was it always to study the sacred texts with another. The eunuch’s response to Philip’s initial words, “Do you understand what you are reading?” suggests that he too is aware of the need for studying with another. To facilitate that end he invites Philip to join him.
The text Luke cites is Isaiah 53:7‑8, although it seems likely that as they journeyed the entire so‑called “Servant Song” (Isaiah 52:13‑53:12) was the focus of the eunuch’s studying. Looking across centuries of Christian history, it is easy for us to identify this “servant” with Jesus and his identity as a suffering Messiah. But this messianic connection was far from clear in the first century. In first century Judaism there was no single understanding of who this suffering servant was or what he represented.
But for Philip the meaning of this text is obvious. Jesus had claimed the identity of the suffering servant for himself and had personally fulfilled Isaiah’s words through his sacrificial and atoning death. The eunuch’s question “About whom . . . does the prophet say this . . .?” perfectly open the door for Philip to declare “The good news about Jesus” (v.35). All that Isaiah’s suffering servant encounters and endures is found in Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection.
Despite the desert conditions through which they are traveling, the men suddenly come upon some form of water. This is another sign that this entire scenario and storyline is under divine direction. It is obvious that Luke’s story assumes Philip has had time to discuss the importance of baptism as the formal means of confessing Christ and participating in the salvation he offers. The mere sight of the water inspires this eunuch to ask Philip, “What is to prevent me from being baptized?”
As a eunuch this man knows full well that he is prevented from being a full proselyte to Judaism. Hence his question to Philip is far more than rhetorical. Philip’s response and the eunuch’s confession of faith (v.37) is found in only a few Western manuscripts and so is relegated to a footnote in most translation of this text. Luke, for his part, had already discussed the requirements for baptism in 2:38‑39, so he would not have felt it necessary to reiterate the directive: “If you believe with all your heart you may.” Most commentaries consider the exchange in v.37 to be a later scribal addition, and reflects a later concern over proper process and procedure. Luke’s focus here is instead on initiative and action — the initiative of the eunuch and the immediate and decisive action of Philip baptizing the eager man.
Once the baptism is completed, so too is Philip’s Spirit‑directed witnessing to the Ethiopian eunuch. Through direct divine intervention Philip finds himself in a new place for his purpose. He is literally “Spirited away.” The Holy Spirit determines Philip’s new course and audience. Azotus was located north of Gaza along the coat, and it is in that region where Philip now continues to proclaim “the good news.” His venue has once again suddenly changed. But Philip’s witnessing message remains the same wherever he goes.