Look, there is water

"Do you understand what you are reading?"

He replied, "How can I, unless someone instructs me?"

You can't. I can't. No one can. Alone, we cannot understand; we cannot live this life.

Infants come into this world dependent upon their parents. From our family we learn language, the ways of the world, behaviors, cultural norms, our religious persuasions or lack thereof. We are creatures that are inherently dependent upon a creator or sustainers that continue to create and sustain life in us. This life is physical (food). This life is emotional (affection). This life is social (community). This life is mental (knowledge). This life is spiritual (faith, hope, and love).

Taught how to hold a spoon, we eat the soup.

Instructed how to call you by name, we build relationships.

Guided how to read body language, we communicate desires and feelings.

Inspired how to read, to study, to learn, we cultivate intellectual passions.

Led along a path that seeks to make meaning out of our existence, we uncover the life of the spirit.

What happens if no one teaches me how to eat? How to feel? How to read? How to seek?

Well, I can ask. But if I never ask, how would I ever expect to consume, to process, to understand?

Philip's interaction with the Ethiopian eunuch open doors for reflection into the very nature of our life as human creatures, but specifically, the very nature of discipleship. Isolated, sola scriptura in my poorly lit room, all by myself: I will never fully understand. Someone else must instruct me. Lived tradition radiates from Philip as he "proclaimed Jesus to him."

Eventually the curious eunuch (from Acts 8:26-40) approaches the water where he know he can be baptized. He says,

"Look, there is water. What is to prevent my being baptized?" 

The chariot stops, Philip emerges; the men are immersed in the waters. Nothing. The water is there; the Spirit is there. His heart is open: nothing.

The same is true for me... the water is there. (What is this water? New life, new opportunities, new horizons, or perhaps the missed chance I once passed up but have come back to again) What will stop me from diving in? Nothing will prevent me other than my lack of willingness.

So too for us on the shores of this world of belief and unbelief. The tides are set and they are turning. The boats are anchored and are leaving shore. What is to prevent our being baptized into a life other than our own?

Nothing more, nothing less, than the fear that comes from truly living a radical life that is not our own.