The Deacon that ran...

Obedience Before Understanding

I was reading through Acts in my devotions, and a few words jumped out at me: "So Philip ran to him..." (Acts 8:30). The text was interesting because this is the aftermath of the successful deacon appointments in Jerusalem. Stephen and Philip have shown the excellence of their character and faith, and now, after the death of Stephen, Philip emerges.

What has drawn my attention is that the Holy Spirit tasked Philip, and Philip ran. He didn’t walk. He didn’t pause to weigh his options or draft a strategic plan. He ran because the Spirit spoke, and when the Spirit speaks, there is only one response: go.

The drama of the Acts 8:26-40 story shouldn't be overlooked. It gives us this remarkable moment of radical, immediate obedience. Deacon Philip, now proving to be an evangelist, is in the middle of a fruitful ministry in Samaria—people are being healed, demons are being cast out, and the gospel is spreading like wildfire. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, an angel of the Lord tells him, “Rise and go toward the south to the road that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza. This is a desert place” (v. 26). There's no explanation or reassurance, just a direction. It's like a military posting—a command - and it’s not a ministry upgrade with a larger congregation, a bigger ‘love-gift’ or a private jet. It’s the desert. And Philip? “Face- bothered?”

Philip goes. It’s easy to miss the significance of this.

The Samaritans were responding in numbers. If this were happening today, we'd be climbing into cars and heading to the meetings, expecting to receive something from the Lord.

Philip's ministry was thriving, yet God tells him to leave it all for one man on a desert road. Obedience to God often disrupts human logic.

The story is impressive, but just pause for a second and notice something as the drama unfolds—Philip's capacity to hear the prompting of the Spirit; it's remarkable.

And then, into the mix, the Spirit speaks again: “Go over and join this chariot” (v. 29). Philip, without hesitation, runs.

Philip’s response has the 'wow!' factor to it. He doesn’t approach cautiously like a timid, frightened gazelle, analysing the situation from a safe distance—he runs straight into the unknown. This is the kind of bold, faith-filled obedience that turns deserts into divine encounters.

It’s obedience first, understanding later—too often, we hesitate when God calls. We want the full picture before taking the first step, clarity before commitment, assurance before action. Philip shows us that in God’s kingdom, obedience comes first, and understanding follows. It's similar to believing and then being saved...

We see it with Abraham, called to leave his homeland without knowing where he was going (Genesis 12:1), and Peter, stepping out of the boat before knowing if he could walk on water (Matthew 14:29). God rarely gives all the details upfront because He is after faith-filled obedience, not calculated risk management.

Philip had no idea that his obedience would go viral—resulting in the gospel being carried into Ethiopia. He certainly didn’t know that the Ethiopian eunuch, a high-ranking official in the queen’s court, would become a carrier of the good news. He simply went. Ran.

When Philip reaches the chariot, he finds the Ethiopian reading Isaiah 53—the prophecy about the suffering servant, Jesus—not on an iPad or a mobile phone, but on parchment. Mr Eunuch obviously had money as well as influence. This event stresses to us that timing is everything. Had Philip delayed—even by one minute—he might have missed this precise moment. But because he ran, obeying God when God spoke, he arrived right when this man was wrestling with truth.

Philip asks, “Do you understand what you are reading?” The Ethiopian replies, “How can I, unless someone guides me?” and invites Philip into his chariot (v. 31).

Notice this: Philip didn’t force his way in. His obedience positioned him close enough to hear the need, but it was the Ethiopian who invited him in. The gospel works like that—our job is to go, to be present, to listen. God prepares the hearts.

Starting with Isaiah, Philip explains how Jesus is the fulfilment of prophecy—straight into the second session of Alpha: Who is Jesus? The eunuch’s response to the answer is immediate: “See, here is water! What prevents me from being baptised?” (v. 36). Philip had done a thorough job!

Nothing prevents him. No barriers. No waiting period. No red tape. Philip baptises him on the spot. Awesome!

At this point, it’s worth noting Steve Bezner’s comment that Deuteronomy 23:1 says: “No one whose testicles are crushed or whose male organ is cut off shall enter the assembly of the Lord.” The Ethiopian eunuch would have been excluded from full participation in Jewish worship, yet here he is, fully welcomed into Christ. The gospel breaks down every barrier.

For us, the lesson is that the gospel moves at the speed of obedience. And like any Netflix drama, just as suddenly as he arrived, Philip is gone—“The Spirit of the Lord carried Philip away, and the eunuch saw him no more, and went on his way rejoicing” (v. 39).

One moment, Philip is running toward a chariot; the next, he is being supernaturally transported to another city to keep on preaching the gospel. That’s how the Spirit moves—always sending, always leading, always disrupting our plans with something greater.

As for the eunuch, he goes away rejoicing—his life has been changed forever. Philip’s momentary obedience unlocked an eternal transformation in a stranger’s life. That's challenging.

When the Spirit says run, we might hesitate, analyse, or wait for conditions to be perfect. Not Philip—he ran.

There’s a moment in Forrest Gump when Forrest, for no particular reason, just starts running. Across states, across time zones—he just keeps running. People start following him, drawn in by something they don’t fully understand.

But Philip’s run was different. It wasn’t random. It wasn’t aimless. It was Spirit-led. And when he ran, history changed.

The gospel still moves at the speed of obedience in our cities and communities. The Spirit still speaks.

Put your running spikes on, and let’s see what stories we will be able to share.