Children of Acts - The Eunuch's Servant

CHILDREN OF ACTS

THE EUNUCH’S SERVANT

By Robert Allen

A monolog for a teenage girl

“Then Philip began with that very passage of Scripture and

told him the good news about Jesus”

Acts 8:35

            What a trip we have just completed.  All the way from Ethiopia to Jerusalem and back—in a chariot.  I have seen enough sand and cacti and Acacia trees to last me a lifetime.  And I’ve collected enough bruises from bouncing over stones on iron wheels to permanently mark my backside, if you know what I mean.

            Jerusalem?  I really cannot find the words to describe it.  We came over the Judeans hills after our endless trip across the desert just as the sun arose.  The brilliant rays gleaming off the golden exterior of Herod’s Temple nearly blinded our eyes.  I really thought the sight before us mirrored the beauty of heaven itself.  My master, the Eunuch, began to weep, something I have never seen before.  I knew even before we left on our journey of his proselyte status in Judaism, but nothing could have prepared any of us for the glory of the sight of God’s Holy Temple.

            The excitement continued all week as we joined the thousands of pilgrims visiting the Holy City for Pentecost.  My master attended all of the services, offered all of the necessary sacrifices and presented gifts to the temple from himself and our queen, Candace.  She descended from the queen of Ethiopia who visited King Solomon many years ago and her family has never forgotten his wisdom and beauty.

            But something was missing.  I didn’t sense it at first, but my master talked about it constantly to all of us in the entourage.

            “I feel like maybe I put off the trip too long.  I should have come sooner.  Have you heard the stories about the prophet who died recently?  I just wish I could have seen him.  I’m afraid I came too late.”

            That’s the way it went all the time we were in Jerusalem.  Anticipation and disappointment.  Excitement and discontent.  Satisfaction and disillusionment.  When we finally left the city to return home my master commanded complete silence while he opened his scroll of Isaiah and read.  Imagine our surprise when he suddenly commanded the driver to stop, right in the middle of the desert.  A man ran across the sand in our direction.  He could have been a thief or a robber, but my master invited him into the chariot to ride with us.  What happened next exceeded everything we had experienced in Jerusalem.

            The man began by asking my master what he was reading.  They talked about Isaiah and then Philip, that was the man’s name, shared  the story of what had happened just before we arrived in Jerusalem.  He told us about Jesus, the Son of God.  He recounted the birth and His sinless life and His death on the cross.  But best of all, He told us about God raising Jesus from the dead.   Philip had been one of over five hundred people who had seen Him alive after the Romans crucified Him and buried Him in a tomb. 

            My master started crying again.  That was what had been missing.  People had told us about the life of Christ and His death, but not about the resurrection.  What a difference it made to know that the Son of God had conquered death.  That changed everything.

            Everything!

            Right there in the middle of the desert my master confessed his faith in the risen Son of God.  “I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God,” he told Philip.  When we came to an oasis Philip took him down into the pond of water and baptized him as a testimony of his new-found faith in Jesus Christ.  We were all singing praise to God and weeping for joy with the master as he came up out of the water.  And when we looked back at the pond it was empty.  Philip had disappeared just as surely as he had appeared in the desert while we were traveling.

            The journey back to Ethiopia still took many days.  Sand and windstorms and cactus and Acacia trees still provided the only scenery in endless sameness.  The chariot still bruised the back when rolling over stones.  But in spite of all that remained the same, everything had changed.  Every day for my master became a day of rejoicing.

            And every day became a day of joy for me as well, because I too believed in the risen Son of God.