Who is he Talking About?

This story speaks to me more than most; I come to it today hoping it speaks to me and to you. I need to hear what it has to say to me today. It is the story of what happened in a chariot on a ride from Jerusalem to Gaza a long time ago. One man, unnamed, was a high government official from Ethiopia. He had come to Jerusalem to worship. He was a eunuch; a gender non-conforming person, we would say today. The other man was Philip, a deacon or servant of the early Christian movement. Deacons had been selected and set aside to manage the food ministry of the movement. Something happened on that ride from Jerusalem to Gaza. I hope to explore it and explain it, but before I begin let me confess: that is what I hope happens in our sanctuary today. We know a little of what was going on with the Ethiopian; we know a little of what was going on with the Palestinian Jew. I know a little of what is going on with me and a little bit with some of you. But this is my prayer: Let a little bit of that chariot spirit fall on us today. Today, we are singing three prayers: The first one was new to me; the song but not the sentiment. “Christ be my leader by night as by day; safe through the darkness for he is the way. Gladly I follow my future his care; darkness is daylight when Jesus is there.” The second hymn we all know. “Precious Lord, take my hand. Lead me on, help me stand; I am tired, I am weak, I am worn. Through the storm, through the night, lead me on to the light. Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.” In a few minutes, we will sing the same song we sang last week. It is a prayer: “Teach me your way, O Lord, teach me your way. Your guiding grace afford, teach me your way. Help me to walk aright, more by faith, less by sight, lead me with heavenly light, teach me your way.” These might have been the prayers of the named deacon from Palestine and the unnamed seeker from Ethiopia. They are our prayers today. We live in a contentious time. The social and political tension is a burden to all of us. We are nine days from a major election. We are being told by those of the right that this is the lasts opportunity we have to save the nation; we are being told by those on the left that democracy itself is on the ballot. We can feel the tension. I think about that Ethiopian. He was in charge of all the queen’s wealth. He was a high government official. Secretary of the treasury, we might call him today, or the manager of the royal hedge fund. Think about the intrigue and the pressure and the tension. No wonder he wanted to get out of town and find some spiritual refreshment. He went to Jerusalem. Then and now, Jerusalem has a reputation as a center of religious life. He escaped the political atmosphere and went to the religious. But he found there a serious problem, a personal prohibition.  He was not allowed into the house of the lord. Eunuchs were forbidden to join the covenant community, to enter the temple, to sit with the assembly. Deuteronomy 25. It is like so much religion in our own day: building walls to keep people out. Judging people who are different, who do not confirm. His particularity is of interest to us: gender non-conforming. In both the political world and the religious world, the LGBTQ community is beat down.  Have you seen the commercials that target the trans community? They comprise a bit more than 1% of the population, but they are being demonized. It makes me sad, and sick, and angry. And in the religious community: there is a massive pushback against the legal progress we have made. Many Christians are going to court to argue they need the right to discriminate against gay people because, they—the Christians—are being forced to deny their religion, which is against gays. Hiring an LGBTQ person or renting to an LGBTQ person is a violation of their freedom of religion. They have flipped the script. They position themselves as the persecuted ones. This happens all over, even here in sweet, little Hendersonville, North Carolina. Let me tell you this story. I reached out to a prominent, the most prominent Baptist minister, in our county. He retired last summer after a long a fruitful ministry. I had never met him, even though his church is just a few blocks from us here at Providence. I told him I had retired, and I’d like to meet him. Let’s have coffee. Here is the email I received in return: Dear Dwight, It was considerate of you to reach out. I did some looking into your life and it seems you have had a fascinating life…. As a student of church history, I have loved insights from Buddy Shurden and noticed he was referenced in one of your books. I have had both CBF and SBC friends in the past. I daily read both ABP and BP.  I was an early critic of the mean spiritedness of Paige Patterson and some in the conservative camp. But I am thoroughly conservative and evangelical in theology. I cannot support where the CBF is today, especially in sexual ethics. Because you are so vocal on these issues, I want to politely decline meeting with you. Thanks…. I have never had anybody write or speak that line to me: “I decline meeting with you.”  Because I, as a minister, receive you and bless you and welcome you in the name of Jesus, this brother of mine will not even meet me for coffee. This speaks to the deep divide on these issues, on this issue. I don’t think this minister would have gotten in that chariot with the man who was a foreigner, a gender non-conformist, and an unbeliever! That is the trouble with religion: too many rules; too many exclusions; too many unclean people. “He drew a circle to shut me out, the old poem states, heretic, rebel, a thing to flout; but love and I had the wit to win; we drew a circle that took him in.” I wrote him back: Well, I don’t think anybody has ever said this to me before, in 55 years of gospel ministry.  It makes me sad. I hope you will reconsider. Jesus himself welcomed that Pharisee Nicodemus and also went to the home of Zaccheus.  My invitation stands. What happened on that chariot? What was the spirit, the conversation, the give and take, the common ground? “Do you understand what you read?” It was the first of five questions. But I have my own question: what happened on that chariot? That nameless traveler (1) saw himself in the text, the Word of God. “Who is he writing about, himself or someone else?” he asked the Deacon. “Because it seems to me he is writing about me. I have no children, cannot have children. I will die without such a legacy.” The Bible becomes a holy book, a divine revelation when we find ourselves in the text: as a person seeking direction, as a person facing opposition, as a person wracked by doubt or guilt, as a person sensing the call of God, as a person on the outside looking in, as a person stirred by a powerful spiritual experience, as a person changing your mind about religion and faith and God, as a person a long way from home and in desperate need of encouragement and hope, as a lonely person. I told you about the great sermon I heard Billy Graham preach when I took my boys to his meeting in DC. He preached on this text: “I am like an owl in the wilderness, a pelican in the dessert.” Psalm 102:6. I am lonely. That Ethiopian welcomed the Palestinian believer into his chariot. They talked, and read, and listened, and prayed, and confessed, and perhaps sang a song or two. Maybe an early version of “Bridge Over Troubled Waters.” Mostly, they talked about Jesus. Philip avoided religion and doctrine and tradition and ritual. He talked about Jesus, who was a friend to those on the margins, who welcomed those that others rejected. Saint and sinner, jew and Gentile, friend and foe: Jesus welcomed them all as people made in the image of God and worthy of the love of God. (2) This nameless seeker felt himself in the Grace of God. Whatever happened in that chariot that day had to do with Jesus. Finally, the story ends as this sojourner, far from home, offered himself for the purposes of God. Somewhere in that conversation, Philip must have spoken about faith, and repentance, and baptism, as well as grace, and mercy, and love. The last question in this drama are the words of the Ethiopian, “Here is some water. Why can’t I be baptized?” They went down into the water, both of them, and the deacon baptized the stranger. That is what happened, and that is what I want to happen today in this sanctuary of a chariot. Like that chariot, I want this sanctuary to be a place open to receive strangers, to welcome seekers, to love those whom others reject. I want this sanctuary to be a place where the Bible is read, and Jesus is present, and the Spirit guides all of us. I want this sanctuary to be a chariot of grace and mercy and welcome. I want this sanctuary to be our own chariot, helping you and me find what we are searching for. As we face a future fraught with tension and division, a future full of ugly rhetoric and angry actions, a future sure to challenge the freedoms and dignity of some people sitting among us today, I want this place, these pews, these doors and windows to be a safe place, a good place, a sweet space for all of us. I want us to be strong in the spirit of Jesus. I want us to be known for our chariot religion. I got another email this week. It is from a friend of mine, Janna. I became acquainted with her when I moved from Lexington and sold a condo, to her.  Except then she was presenting as a he.  For 60+ years, he had been a Catholic deacon with a full career in the U. S. State Department overseas. When he retired, he came out as transgender. She wrote me one day and said, “I have been reading your stuff. I like what you write and say. Will you be on my radio show.” That was two years ago, over Christmas holidays. Since then, I have written about her, even interviewed her. She wrote me this week: “Please remember Art … in your prayers: “Dwight, I hope that this email finds you well.  I just have a brief request, that you remember our mutual friend Art Hoffman in your prayers.  I received this message from him this morning.” She then proceeded to tell me about his accident, on his bike, hit by a car. This gender non-conforming woman thought, I’ll bet Dwight and his congregation will pray for Art. I will ask him to pray. Isn’t that a good way to be known? A request from a person denigrated by many politicians and ministers calling out for prayer and calling us to pray for her friend?