He’d made a journey of over one thousand miles in a chariot. One thousand hot, dusty miles. He was an Ethiopian who had converted to Judaism and made the trip from his homeland to Jerusalem to worship. He had traveled all the way to Jerusalem to visit the temple. And he when he got there, he couldn’t get in.

You see, this man was a eunuch. He had been castrated. According to the Law given to Moses, no man in that condition could enter the temple. One thousand miles, to be told “No” at the door. Maybe he knew that. Maybe he had accepted his fate before going, being willing to just gaze on God’s temple from the outside. We don’t know. Still, it had to be more than a bit frustrating.

Now he’s reading in the book of Isaiah as he travels back home. That in itself is amazing, giving the scarcity of books in ancient times. He must have paid a good bit of money to have his own personal copy of a portion of Scripture. Maybe someone had recommended Isaiah to him; Isaiah 56 had to be a favorite among eunuchs, where we read these verses: “For this is what the LORD says: “To the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths, who choose what pleases me and hold fast to my covenant— to them I will give within my temple and its walls a memorial and a name better than sons and daughters; I will give them an everlasting name that will not be cut off.” (Isaiah 56:4-5) Someday, they would have a place within the temple.

But this eunuch wasn’t reading that chapter. He was reading chapter 53—“He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth. By oppression and judgment he was taken away. And who can speak of his descendants? For he was cut off from the land of the living; for the transgression of my people he was stricken.” (Isaiah 53:7-8) Such words would have spoken to him, especially after his trip to Jerusalem: oppressed, afflicted, without descendants. The words intrigued him. When Philip appeared alongside and asked him if he understood what he was reading, the eunuch readily admitted that he didn’t.

Philip explained the passage to him, explained the good news of Jesus. Somewhere in that good news, Philip mentioned baptism. Baptism. New birth. A new start. A new life. But the eunuch knew what was coming, so he asked the question: “Here’s water. What hinders me from being baptized?” Go ahead, Philip. Tell me the bad news. I’ve already faced it at the temple. I’ve faced it for years. Tell me what it is this time. I already know. This good news isn’t for eunuchs. What hinders me? My mutilated body. Or my nationality. Or… what is it this time?

Maybe the answer went unspoken. Maybe Philip shouted with joy, “Nothing! Nothing at all.” Maybe the eunuch could see it in Philip’s grin or the look in his eyes. Maybe the tradition that the King James quotes is actually true. Whatever it was, the eunuch learned that there was no hindrance this time, no barrier, no “No Eunuchs Allowed” sign. His path was clear, clear to the water, clear to new birth and new life, to the cleansing Jesus offers. “What hinders me?” Absolutely nothing.

I can’t help but think of the words from the beautiful old hymn: “My path to life is free.” Amen! What hinders me? Nothing. Nothing at all.