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Let's play Sherlock Holmes for a bit and see what deductions we can make about the characters in this passage. The "eunuch" was probably either a prisoner of some earlier war, or born as a child into a poverty-stricken family, since those were the people who most usually were subjected to the mutilation he had suffered. However, we see he had risen to a position of high rank in Ethiopia. Obviously, then, he was a bright and highly-motivated man. Yet we find him referred to by vocation but not by name. Members of ethnic minority groups would probably understand some of this man's feelings. For all his achievements, it would appear he still wasn't treated as an equal.

Now we find this man pulled off to the side of the road, reading the Bible. Reference is made to his having attended a worship service, yet he was obviously unable to understand what he was reading. Is it possible this man was facing a life crisis, perhaps having to do with his infirmity and some discouragement about his future? Is it possible he was trying to find answers in the faith he'd seen other people practice, that he was a newcomer to religion, ready for a change in his life, yet not quite able to know how to proceed? We can't know these things, of course. But it seems apparent the poor man was facing some type of difficulty for which he seemed to think religious faith might be an answer. And clearly, the scriptures were unfamiliar to him.

What about Philip? Given the fact that he had been a personal friend of Jesus, is it not likely he was well known locally as a man of personal faith? Perhaps it was something like one of us facing a life crisis, feeling hopeless and lost, only to run into Billy Graham, or Robert Schuller, or Norman Vincent Peale. Philip was certainly a forerunner of today's clergy. So the eunuch turned to him for guidance in his search for answers.

Wouldn't it be interesting if we could have overheard their conversation? At least we know that Philip took the time to visit with the man, to show that he cared and was willing to help. The man had at last found someone who treated him as a worthwhile human being and was willing to devote his time, energy, and resources to enable the man to find the answers he sought. That the man asked to be baptized forthwith may seem impulsive at first, but who among us has not hungrily grasped at those answers which suddenly appear in times of extreme stress? He must have seen baptism (a Jewish religious rite at that time) as a way of proactively receiving this newly found power into his own life. Much of this is speculation, but it does make sense of the passage.

The current word for the winning of converts to the faith is "evangelism." Today, however, that's an emotionally charged word in many churches. For some it refers to an aggressive effort to win the unchurched population into the faith. Unfortunately, a head-on effort that's too agressive often has the opposite effect of its intent, seeming intrusive and presumptuous ("Brother/Sister, have you been saved?"). I occasionally answer my doorbell to be greeted by some nicely dressed young men wanting to talk about my faith, and even when I inform them I'm a clergyman, they still continue, as though to imply that while I may be clergy, I'm not truly of the right faith. It feels presumptuous and, in a subtle way, disrespectful, though I assume the intent is good.

Two young friends of mine told me of their move into a new neighborhood with their two small children. A couple living nearby, of about the same age, came to their door to welcome them. It was a friendly gesture and over the next several weeks, the two families became good friends. The men played racquetball, the women shared experiences in child raising, and the children played together. But one evening, the neighboring couple began to discuss religion and invited my friends to attend their church. They, however, explained that they were quite happy with the church they were attending. But the visiting couple began to intensify their efforts, virtually insisting that if their friendship was to continue they should be members of the same church. When my friends remained adamant, the other couple left rather unceremoniously. They were never again friendly, avoiding my friends whenever they met in the neighborhood. It was apparent that they wanted, in the words of one well-known preacher, "to hang my friends' religious scalps on their belts."

An extreme example, to be sure, but a reminder that true biblical evangelism respects the other person's individuality, allowing that person to decide how, where, and when to worship. It may be true that some people are persuaded by such a direct approach, but for the great majority of people, that sort of thing is a turn-off.

At the other extreme is evangelism which says little about religion and faith itself. It concentrates on ministries that meet human needs through strong church programming and openness to the community which makes it clear that everyone is welcome with no strings attached. While for most of us this is a more attractive and more successful strategy, it runs the risk of never quite letting the people it reaches know that it is Jesus Christ who sponsors caring ministries, and Jesus Christ in whom the higher power is to be found.

Leslie Weatherhead told in a sermon about two men in his community who worked in the same shop for many years. They became good friends, leaving work at the same time, riding the same bus home each evening, once in awhile stopping off at the same pub on the way. Through the years they spoke of many things, though in accord with an old axiom, they avoided politics and religion. Then one man's wife became suddenly ill and died. Being happily married, he was devastated by this loss. His long-time friend came to be with him in this dark hour. At last, he spoke of his own faith and the strength he found through his church. But he was astounded when the grieving man fixed him with an angry stare and virtually shouted at him: "In all these years you have never once -- NEVER ONCE -- invited me to your church nor spoken of your faith. Now I have nowhere to turn. And you were my friend."

There it is. If our faith is at all important in our lives, if our relationship with Jesus Christ has changed us and empowered us, it's not enough to keep that as a private treasure. It's essential that it be shared so others can know. Those of us who have found this in the Church will want to find the most effective and faithful way we can do this. That's what evangelism is. As Saint Paul wrote, "We are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us."

Let's go back to our text. What can we learn from it? Philip met a man in need and was willing to take time from what he was doing to help the needy man. It probably cost him more than is immediately apparent in time and effort. Some other elements seem important, also. Philip seems not to have taken notice of the man's station, neither impressed by his success, nor patronizing of the man's limitations. He was open to allow the eunuch to make known his needs and to help him as asked. Another important but easily overlooked fact is that having done all he could, Philip quietly slipped away. There was no feeling of indebtedness, no effort to be reimbursed in some way, no follow-up to ensure that the man joined the right church, or donated an acceptable sum, or subscribed to a particular set of beliefs. Philip went on about his work leaving the eunuch free to pursue his own faith as he felt moved to do.

Bishop Fulton Sheen once said there are three important characteristics of a Christian: kindness, kindness, and kindness. That's what is displayed here. Philip was sensitive to another person's needs and met them as best he could, but his own reward was simply to realize he'd been able to share his faith with another. Surely that's evangelism of the highest sort.

There's a wonderful legend about Saint Francis, the kindly thirteenth century monk, who one day informed his brethren that he planned to go into the nearby village on a preaching mission. He invited a novice to go along. On their way, they passed an injured man and Francis promptly stopped, saw to the the poor fellow's needs and arranged medical care for him. They went on and soon passed a homeless man who was near starvation. Again, Francis stopped his journey and ministered to the hungry, homeless man. So it went, through the day: people in need, Francis lovingly caring for them as best he could until the sun was low in the sky. He told his novice friend it was time for them to return, now, to the monastery for evening prayers. But the young man said, "Father, you said we were coming to town to preach to the people." Francis smiled. Then he said, "My friend, that's what we've been doing all day." That's evangelism at its most faithful. Ministry to people in their need. Not worrying about numerical growth, or adding to one's own conversion record, or winning acclaim within the denomination. Evangelism is sharing the love of God in concrete form among God's people.

For the local church, this means finding a way to minister in practical ways to human need while at the same time respecting the individuals we serve and their right to worship where and as they decide is right. One very effective local church has a myriad of programs designed to meet human needs characteristic of today. They have divorce recovery programs, Altzheimer support groups, grief recovery programs, blended family programs, strong ministry to children and youth, and a strong program for seniors and shut-ins, while at the same time reaching out to other parts of a large city with ministry to the homeless and the hungry. They have linked with an ethnic minority church, and have sent work parties to third world countries to assist churches there. There's more. And it's all undergirded by strong, effective worship. However, people who come in response to the many caring ministries are free to worship there or elsewhere. Having said all this (and there are a growing number of churches with similar outreach ministries), the primary call is to each of us to find our own individual form of ministry as well.

A professor of New Testament in a large seminary in a large northern city had a reputation as a brilliant scholar, though students as always sometimes smirked that "those who can, do; those who can't, teach." One day the professor of Sacred Theology at the same seminary was approached by the Bible professor's wife who said, "I trust my husband completely. But every so often he disappears for the day, returns tired in the evening, but says nothing about where he has been. I confess, I'm more than curious about his activities." The theologian was unable to shed any light on his friend's activities at the time. But one day, a short time later, he happened to be on business in a very deprived part of the city and, upon turning a corner, saw his friend sitting on a curb alongside an obviously homeless man. The theologian quickly stepped back so as not to be seen, and watched. For a long time, his friend chatted with the poor man. Finally, the two of them got up and walked across to a small restaurant where they were last seen deep in conversation while enjoying their meal together. The theologian spoke of this to his friend later and asked exactly what he was doing. Somewhat embarassed, the other professor said he often took a day off to visit the inner city. He would just get acquainted with someone needful, tell him briefly about the love of God as he knew it through Christ, then they would have a meal together. That's true evangelism -- kindness in action.