Chariots | All For the Glory of God

What’d y’all think of my story? If you have no idea what I’m talking about, check out my previous post Catch the Chariot. So – not bad for a second effort, right? I enjoyed writing it, so I hope you enjoyed reading it. Be looking for more in the months ahead.

As I looked at the story, though, I thought about how typical it is of missional journeys, having to run to catch up with a lost world moving too fast into oblivion. Philip was able to get there, catch up, make the connection, but he had to expend a LOT of energy to do so. Yes, we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us. Yes, he probably had supernatural help getting there, just as he did when it was time to leave the Ethiopian. (Read it for yourself at Acts 8:39-40. I didn’t write about that part of the story). But what if…?

What if Philip had a horse of his own? What if Peter, Paul, Silas, Barnabus, Timothy, and all the other missionaries of the 1st century had vehicles, or modes of transportation appropriate to their terrain, to help them travel along the way? To help them Speed the Light? Imagine how many more people could have been reached if days, weeks or even months had not been needed to travel from place to place. Imagine how far and wide the Word could have spread with appropriate transportation.

And that is the whole point behind the Speed the Light program. It’s a program that teaches and encourages students, 6th through 12th grade, to be missions minded. The money raised by students and donated to Speed the Light pays for vehicles for missionaries in the U.S. and around the world.

Above I used the words, “appropriate transportation.” That’s because not everyone needs a car. When I was in Tanzania we visited many fishing villages along the shores of Lake Tanganyika. We never would have gotten there if Joy in the Harvest, the mission we worked with, had not had a boat. These villages could only be reached by boat. There were no roads. And so, there are some places that can only be reached by plane, and others by dirt bike, or even bicycle. There are places where the “road” is not more than a path through terrain that we who live in the concrete jungle would never understand.

So if you see a student fundraising, and they say it’s for Speed the Light, think about Philip trying to Catch the Chariot, think of the villages of Tanzania that were visited by the boat from Joy in the Harvest, think of all the missional possibilities and help out.

Ok, here it is, finally, my second story submitted to the Faith Writers weekly contest. This one scored a “Highly Commended.” It’s been strange, working at my writing. I don’t think I’ve ever made so many changes to anything I’ve written. I am beginning to look at it as a craft. I look forward to crafting more for you all in the future. Enjoy!

The room was full, the buzz, incredible, the excitement, palpable. Peter and John moved from one to another, quickly praying, laying on hands, then rejoicing as another believer poured forth his love for the Son with expressions understood only by God. It was as it had been for them on the day of Pentecost when Holy Spirit first came, praise, worship, pure love spilling from their mouths in a Heavenly language.

Philip watched from the wall. He arrived at this place from Jerusalem in fear, fear for his life, for being a follower of the Way, fear of the people here because of the stories he’d heard. These were the dreaded Samaritans, those who had allowed themselves to be corrupted, those whose worship was no longer True. But arriving here, running for his life from the persecution, he found them to be kind, loving, and real, different from those who followed the Sanhedrin, the ones who killed Jesus, Stephen, and so many others. Solace was found with the ones he had been taught to fear, and fear came from those who were meant to give solace.

He watched with joy as more Samaritans were filled with Holy Spirit, pouring out adoration to God in their new language of love. Suddenly a voice said, “Leave this place and go to a land that I will show you.” He shook his head, digging a finger in his ear, thinking there must have been a fly buzzing. Again the voice said, “Leave this place. Go to a land that I will show you.” There must be a mistake. Those were words spoken to Abraham, father of a great nation. But the voice came again, softer, gentler, yet compelling, “Just start walking, My friend. I will show you the way to go.”

Philip picked up his pack, walked to Peter in the middle of the room, saying, “Hey, Pete, I gotta go. I’m not sure what it is, but I’ve got something I have to do.”

Peter, still in the throes of excitement for the Samaritans receiving Holy Spirit, gave a wave of dismissal, “Yeah, sure. See ya later.”

Philip walked out the door into brilliant sunlight, the voice saying, “Go south to the road, the desert road, that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.” And so he did. He walked the dry, dusty path that served as a road, twisting and turning through the desert, sun beating down, the breeze gently wafting all traces of moisture from his skin. In the distance, dust arose from the wheels of a chariot, also headed south. The voice buzzed in Philip’s ear, “Go over and join this chariot.”

“You want me to WHAT? How am I supposed to catch up with a chariot that far ahead of me? Do you have any idea how fast a horse runs?”

“Just do it. Trust.”

So he ran. In spite of the heat, in spite of the condition of the rutted path, in spite of everything, he ran. A trail shot off to his right. His ear buzzed, “This is the way. Run in it.” Veering off the path, the trail dipped into a long-dried river bed, and rose again, depositing Philip just yards behind the chariot.

Philip could see the occupant, seated, reading from a scroll. As he approached, he heard the words, “Like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth.”

“Hey,” called Philip, “I said HEY. Slow up a bit, would ya? Do you have any idea what you’re reading?”

The large, dark skinned man in the chariot signaled to his driver to stop. Philip, panting, hands on knees, catching his breath, twisted his head up, looking at the man, obviously Ethiopian. The man scanned Philip for a moment, taking in the dust covered tunic, the dirt streaked face, and the feet, the beautiful feet of this man who seemed to appear out of nowhere, running and actually catching his horse drawn chariot. “How can I understand if no one explains it?” was his reply, “Come, join me on the journey. We will talk.”

And so it was that Philip led the Ethiopian to Jesus and the salvation He provides. What came after that is a tale for another day, but suffice it to say, the continent of Africa would never be the same again. The director of accounting for the great Queen Candace of Ethiopia saw to that.