Sent to the Desert
p And the angel of the Lord spake unto Philip, saying, Arise, and go toward the south, unto the way that goeth down from Jerusalem unto Gaza, which is desert.” — Acts vin. 26.
AFTER the episode regarding Simon the Sorcerer, and the mission of Peter and John from the Church at Jerusalem to visit the converts in Samaria, the narrative of Philip’s ministry is resumed. He is sent now, not to a populous city, but to a desert; not to a crowd of Samaritans, but to a solitary Ethiopian. A message, which he recognised as from the Lord, reached Philip to the effect that he should “arise, and go toward the south, unto the way that goeth down from Jerusalem unto Gaza, which is desert.”
Both “way” and “Gaza” being feminine, it is not certainly indicated whether it is the road or the city that is described as a desert. It so happened that Gaza was standing at the period when Philip preached, but was demolished at the period when Luke composed his treatise. Some understand, accordingly, that the words “this is desert” are the historian’s note on the condition of the town when he was writing. Others take the words as part of the angel’s message, intimating that the path lay through a wilderness. Though both come to the same in the end, the second seems the more natural construction. The road leads through an uninhabited country. There were more ways than one from J erusalem to Gaza. One led by Hebron southward, and the other took a westerly direction.
“He arose and went:” he was not disobedient to the heavenly vision. If, like Jonah, he had looked for excuses, he would have found them in abundance. He was well employed in a populous district. He had a wide door — a multitude of listeners when he preached — a multitude of inquirers when he was done. Many believed. The fields were white; and the labourer was getting his bosom filled with sheaves. Had he been called from one Samaritan town to another as large and as needy, he might have perceived the reasonableness of the call. But the demand is that he should leave the city and go to a desert. It is a trial of faith analogous to Abraham’s. It required a simple, unquestioning trust, while all the appearances were adverse.
Whether he took the path by Hebron or that which lies more westward, Philip at length passed out of the inhabited regions, and penetrated into the inhospitable tract which stretches southward to Egypt and the Eed Sea. Here he threads his way over broken stones and shifting sands, doing his best to keep the track that former travellers have made.
Afloat on the sand-sea, the evangelist is like one of those master-mariners who, at their sovereign’s command, set sail with sealed orders not to be opened till they reach a certain indicated spot of the ocean. Philip as yet did not know why he was sent to this place, or what he was expected to do there; but he counted that his orders would open when he reached the spot. The orders, accordingly, all open, like the prison-doors for Peter, of their own accord, and the whole plan is revealed: “Behold, a man of Ethiopia, an eunuch of great authority under Candace queen of the Ethiopians, who had the charge of all her treasure, and had come to Jerusalem for to worship, was returning, and sitting in his chariot read Esaias the prophet.”
These two men meet in the desert: the one, a sinner uneasy seeking a Saviour; the other, a called and qualified minister of Christ. The one is a thirsting soul; the other is a “chosen vessel” charged with the water of life. The one offers, the other receives Christ. They part again: Philip to pursue his ministry; the Ethiopian rejoicing in the Lord. They met and parted in a day, perhaps in an hour. At the beginning of that interview the Ethiopian was timidly asking, “What must I do to be saved?” At the close of it he resumed his journey, a Christian in the full assurance of hope. They approached from different directions, or converging lines, until they met on a point like the apex of the letter >; but having met, they soon separated again, like the crossing lines of the letter X, and probably never saw each other more in the body.
The two lines on which they approached rose like rivers in far distant hills, and flowed on until they met at a point in the desert between Jerusalem and the border of Egypt.
Trace the course of the Ethiopian treasurer. Late in the preceding, or early in the same year, while the mild winter of that region kept mornings and evenings cool, a commotion might have been observed in the principal street of the Abyssinian metropolis at the departure of a caravan for the north. It is the grand vizier of the queen, starting on a religious pilgrimage. The bystanders do not exactly know the reason of the journey, but one has heard a neighbour tell that the chief treasurer had been much taken up of late with stories, told by travelling Jewish merchants, of a mighty prophet who had arisen in Judsea. The treasurer, it was rumoured, was going all the way to Jerusalem to worship the God of Israel, and seek the Messiah who was at that time expected to come.
We lose sight of the Ethiopian grandee, alike on his toilsome journey by the bank of the Nile, and through the wilderness; we never get a glimpse of him among the crowds, native and foreign, who congregate in Jerusalem to worship at the feast. Where he was and how employed during the events which signalised that Passover, we cannot tell; but we know that, after waiting long and inquiring much, he called his servants and ordered his waggon, and started on his journey homeward, while the longing of his soul that had brought him so far remained still unsatisfied. He was thirsty; he came to the place where the springs were opened; and yet he went away still athirst. There has not been such a revival meeting since on earth as that one which took place in J erusalem while the Ethiopian was there j and yet he came away sorrowful. On that day of Pentecost the Holy Spirit was poured on many, but not on him; at least so he thought and felt. After he has come so far, it is sad to see him returning without his errand. Yet it is written in the Scriptures, “Seek, and ye shall find.” Can the promise — can the Promiser be true? Yes; and this is a conspicuous example of his faithfulness. This Ethiopian, secretly taught of the Spirit, did not limit God to times and places. As he left Ethiopia and went to Jerusalem seeking, so he left Jerusalem and returned to Ethiopia still seeking. He departed from the temple; but he still communed with God. When the period of public worship had passed, he persevered in private searching the Scriptures.
Mark the man well: he has not abandoned the search. The whole meaning of that sable chief, as he bends in silence over the parchment, seems to be, “I will not let thee go, except thou bless me.” It is true he has not obtained what he sought at Jerusalem, so as to be satisfied when he departs but he has learned something at Jerusalem which is of use to him now. Although his want is not supplied, he knows better now what his want is. As the thirsty blindly gropes for water, he comes near the place where a fountain has been opened. An instinct is astir within him, as true as that which guides an infant to its mother’s breast. He is feeling for the sufferings of Christ. Before he saw Philip, or obtained any help, the place of the Scripture which he read was this: “He was led as a lamb to the slaughter.” All things are now ready. This man will be born there. In that desert place Ethiopia is stretching out her hands to God, and will not be left to stretch them out in vain.