“Religion? Eh. Not for me.”

He’s 44. Married. Father. Stepfather. Blue collar. Business owner. Hard worker. With a crew of three, he’s a professional drywaller.

I know a few things more about him. He is good at math and his back often aches, for example. He recently had a birthday that he celebrated after the fact with a dinner his wife had made for him.

Oh, and he says religion—specifically organized religion—isn’t for him.

I’ll call him David here. With his equally hardworking crew nearby, David and I had this conversation about religion right after they completed their last job, which was at my house.

Some days David would be alone at my house and we both cut into our already tight schedules to connect. Our conversations were good, funny, and usually very thoughtful.

But we didn’t talk about religion until those final moments.

“My grandmom was Baptist,” he nodded. “So faithful.”

Then he shrugged his right shoulder. Or maybe he shrugged off again what he had to let go of or never should have let go of.

There was a pause.

“It was never for me,” he added into the comfortable quiet. His now familiar half-second laugh followed, but it was emptier than it was all those times before.

“Yeah, religion? Eh. It’s not for me.”

David isn’t alone. His crewmates aligned. The sense that religion is something to leave alone or sidestep settled over this honest group of dedicated guys who think well, speak well, and put pride into what they do professionally and personally.

The crew would agree that religion isn’t wrong. It’s just something they don’t understand.

Our conversation makes me think of Philip and the Ethiopian Eunuch, a story found in Acts 8. Here the foreign Ethiopian picks up something he doesn’t understand—and that’s sacred text. The Ethiopian, who isn’t given a name, is unlike the drywalling crew in that he has a zest and passion for religion. However, he experiences a standstill. It may be a momentary stall because in that instant he doesn’t get religion either. What I mean by this is that he doesn’t understand the text he has been reading.

For a moment he, like David, may have had thoughts about religion not being for him. As he set down what he had just read, he could have surmised that religion was too complicated, too off-putting, or, like David’s grandmother, this was simply for someone else.

With whatever thoughts he had for or against religion, the Ethiopian suddenly meets Philip, an agent of God who had been sent by an angel of the Lord to this very scene. 

The Ethiopian was reading (Trio-) Isaiah 53:7 from the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible or the Septuagint. This text is about a metaphorical lamb led to slaughter. The lamb silently endures his death.

Confused, the Ethiopian asks if this text is autobiographical or about someone else. Philip, who meets this reader where he is (and that’s in a chariot), takes his time and explains that this lamb is Jesus Christ. Philip shares that this lamb dies for the sins of the world.

Overjoyed by this radical, incredible, and eternal life-affirming news that Jesus’ death on a cross leads to the salvation of all of those who turn to and follow Christ, he continues his travel with Philip. When the two reach a river, the one with new joy asks Philip to baptize him.

It is my prayer that someone meets with David and his crew and shares this story. If that someone is me, hooray. I did joke about working with these guys whom I do admire. I welcome more time to meet them where they are and travel with their thoughts about the Lamb of God.

Maybe you’ll meet David and his crew next. They are moving on to new job sites.

Meeting someone where they are is significant in Acts 8. I mentioned the joy the Ethiopian experiences. I also mention baptism because this joy can wash away “religion is not for me” thoughts.