Last week, during the interaction time, one of our sisters uttered a cry for help. "How do we share our faith? In the moment of truth, what do I say? How do I build a bridge? Please give some tools."

So here's a message that starts us along that way. This message also relates to baptism, which is the great celebration of our day together.

One of the early faith heroes is Philip. In Acts 8, the church is taking form and beginning to embrace its mission. The church altered by persecution, becomes a missionary church. Philip goes to Samaria, which means a truly cross-cultural experience. Samaria is situated between the southern land of Judea and the northern land of Galilee. The Samaritans practice a form of faith similar to the Jews, but distinct. They are considered heretics, outside the household of the true faith. Jesus had visited Samaria, planted seeds of faith and truth and had given every indication that the gospel should be preached in Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria and to the ends of the earth.

When Philip is called to Samaria, many received Christ there. Peter and John are sent from Jerusalem to check out the scene and to further the work; then they head back to Jerusalem, preaching in many Samaritan villages.

Philips stays in Samaria until he receives a special message from an angel.

Just for a minute, let's talk about angels. The word angel means messenger. Angels appear throughout the scriptures and serve as God's personal messengers. They tend to arrive at key moments in human history to announce God' intention or to give specific directions.

Personally, I believe in angels. As surely as I believe in life after death; as surely as I believe in God and other beings in a heavenly realm and our capacity to see or fully comprehend; I believe in angels. They are not a stretch for me. In fact, it seems wholly credible that God would commission agents who act as go-betweens from the heavenly realm of existence to this earthly realm. Rather than being cupids with harps or statuesque beings with white wings, I assume that they take on a very human-like quality when they actually do find form in our existence. Hebrews 13:2 says that we should be sure to extend hospitality, even to strangers, "for in doing so, some have entertained angels without knowing it."

Having said that, I don't know if I've ever seen a real angel. I can't even say that I've ever heard an audible voice from God or one of God's angels, I have, however, had moments of such startling clarity and clear direction in my prayers that I have been able to know, certainly, that God has been the Source.

Philip gets a message from God; by way of an angel. "Go south to the desert road that goes from Jerusalem to Gaza."

Philip follows directions.

Let me pause and say that a good portion of sharing our faith is about listening for directions and following them. Whether through special discernment in our spirit, or a sense of hearing from God in our prayer lives, or a sure word from scripture, or even a sense of direction from those who have a leadership role or some authority in our lives, part of the key to sharing our faith and living a fruitful life is hearing from God and following directions.

By the way, some of the most productive seasons of hard work in my life have been, by far, the least fruitful, since my busyness and productivity were often the equivalent of making snow machines in Alaska. While hard work and worthy labor are honored by scripture, still this is true: More than we will ever know, our busyness is often a chief entanglement that causes us to miss God's voice and to blow through divine appointments. Not that God can't find someone else or use someone else if I'm unavailable. But why should God have to? The most fruitful seasons in my life have been those in which I've allowed room in my life for God to speak into it. I'm attentive to God's spirit, listening for His voice, and opportunistic about the remarkable convergences of availability, readiness and opportunity. In other words, I'm praying, "Lord here's my life. This is your day, your hour, your moment; show me where to go and who to be." Then in more cases than otherwise, memorable and fruitful things happen - perhaps more than I even know, since fruitful living often involves sowing seeds and watering the field, as much as reaping the harvest. We don't get to see outcomes and certainly can't control them.

In Acts 8, Philip has an appointment, set up by God, with a man from Ethiopia. He's a eunuch, which means that he is a court official so completely dedicated to government service that the governing entity (king?) forced him into celibacy, well, by cutting off all possibility for any other devoted relationships (he'd been castrated).

While he's from Ethiopia, he's apparently a Jew (either a convert or part of a Jewish family who had emigrated from Ethiopia) traveling away from Jerusalem toward Gaza, probably returning home from a pilgrimage to the Temple. He's reading Isaiah. Consider how timely Philip's intervention is. At the time Philip pulls up, the Ethiopian man is reading the part in Isaiah 53 that predicts the Christ story in ways that are startling (to say the least). Let me pause and note that we can not and probably should not share the good news with everyone we see or meet. The key is being ready for encounters with those that God has cultivated for the moment.

Again, let me pause and say that some of my least fruitful seasons have been those seasons when my life is totally wrapped up in church people. Yes, my role in the church requires me to shepherd and love church people and I'm glad to do it. Still my best, most fruitful seasons have been those in which I'm very involved in growing relationship with people who have no faith, little faith, an emerging, or a wounded, hidden faith. And, frankly, most of those folks aren't at church and aren't intending to come here any time soon. The Holy Spirit's instructions to me are often, "Go to them and stay near." "If you build it they will come" is no longer a useful enough strategy for answering God's call. It is true to a degree, but the real work is out there in the world. God seems to be telling people in the mostly fruitful churches, "If I build you, I want you to go."

So I frequent gyms, where sports builds a natural opportunity for me to "go and stay near" other men. I frequent coffee shops. I've coached softball teams. I've served in community organizations. I've gone to neighborhood gatherings. All of this being the equivalent of answering the voice that says "Go and stay near."

Once Philip gets near, he becomes a kind of fixture on the road to Gaza. Then, as he hears the Ethiopian reading from Isaiah, he asks, "Do you know what you are reading?" (By the way, in my experience questions work far better than answers. Jesus modeled this, too.) Then the door swings open. "How can I understand this if I have no one to explain it?" So he invites Philip to come up on the chariot and explain things.

What does Philip do? He starts from the point of contact and begins to tell the good news about Jesus.

Now I realize that Philip's starting place is pretty ripe - the guy's reading Isaiah 53. Talk about putting the ball on the tee and handing Philip a seven iron - goodness, a preaching wedge. Not all of our points of contact will be so ripe. But neither are they, usually, traveling on the road in one-time interactions. Usually, they are ongoing relationships. If we pray for opportunity, the key is this - when the moment is ripe and a door swings open, are we ready to tell the good news of Jesus? And when there is no special voice or direction from the spirit we can assume that those moments, these convergences, will spring up in the ordinary flow of life.

Perhaps the easiest and best approach is to lean toward a conversation about what Jesus has done "for me." As I've said, and others have said, "You are the expert on your own story." No one can refute your experience. They can argue your theology or philosophy, but how can someone say, "You're all wet. Jesus doesn't do that for you!"

Speaking of all wet, Philip says, "Hey, which way to the beach?" Actually, he says, "Look, here's water." And he's baptized that day.

This is an appropriate response to faith. It is an outward celebration of an inward transformation. God cleanses and forgives us. God gives us new life in Christ. God anoints us with His Holy Spirit. Like a wedding ceremony outwardly declares the miracle of two becoming one, baptism is the outward declaration of an even bigger miracle - Christ, alive and powerful in our hearts.

Then Philip is spirited away, we assume, to another appointment.