(This post is an expansion on a sermon I preached. Read the blog and then listen to the sermon "It All Makes Sense with Jesus." )
In Matthew 11, Jesus called John the
Baptist the greatest of all prophets.
“Yes, I say to you, and more than a
prophet. … Assuredly, I say to you, among those born of women there has
not risen one greater than John the Baptist” (Matthew 11: 9,11)
We honor John the Baptist as the
epitome of uncompromising spiritual strength.
We have canonized his legend and forgotten his truth: John’s spiritually victorious life was also a
life of agonizing DOUBT.
Read his story again.
So the child grew and became strong in
spirit, and was in the deserts till the day of his manifestation to Israel. (Luke
1:80)
In the deserts, apparently from a very
young age. His parents had a house in
the hills southern Judea. They had
connections in the Temple in Jerusalem.
Why was John in the desert?
Because he ran away. Not to adventures in the great metropolis of
Jerusalem. Not to the freedom of the
semi-pagan Decapolis, or to the outlaw lands of Galilee. No.
John ran to the most desolate and lonely spaces his nation offered. He fled----- from everything.
Now John himself was clothed in camel’s
hair, with a leather belt around his waist… (Matthew 3: 4a)
You know those kids at your school who
dress like hobos even though their parents are rich? You know the ones who blacken their eyes and
refuse to condition their hair, and carefully choose the least physically
flattering clothing they can find. John
the Baptist would have been one of them.
…his food was locusts and wild honey.
(Matthew 3:4b)
You know that kid who starves himself
at lunch and on field trips because he’s such a strict kind of vegan that other
vegans think he’s crazy? That kid’s got
nothing on John the Baptist.
From before he was even conceived, John
the Baptist’s life was clearly defined.
The purpose of his existence was predetermined. We glamorize being “The Promised Child,” “The Chosen One.” But think about how suffocating that
was. John was an adolescent who never
had the chance to find himself. There
was no seeking, no just being. John’s
future never held the mystery of what he might become. He was always “the prophet of the Highest
[who] will go before the face of the Lord to prepare His ways” (Luke
1:76). And if he screwed up, Israel’s
Messiah might never appear. That was John’s
bedtime story.
“You’re not the Messiah. You can’t save your people. But you can single-handedly destroy 5,000
years of prophetic hope. Nighty-night.”
No wonder John defined himself in
negatives.
John was not the Temple priest his father Zacharias was. He was not
the well-pedigreed heir of religious royalty that his mother was.
The Jews sent priests and Levites from
Jerusalem to ask him, “Who are you?”
He confessed, and did not deny, but
confessed, “I am not the Christ.”
And they asked him, “What then? Are you
Elijah?”
He said, “I am not.”
“Are you the Prophet?”
And he answered, “No.” (John 1: 19-22)
When asked, “What do you say about
yourself?” John replied, “I am The voice of one crying in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’ as the
prophet Isaiah said.” (John 1: 22, 23)
Do you hear the sadness? I’m
not a body. I’m not a person. I’m just a voice. And not even my own voice.
But John still followed his
calling. He preached the words God put
in his heart. He baptized sinners and
hypocrites. The man who’d fled from the
world endured fame. Read the exchange in
Luke 3: 7-18. No matter how raw and roughly
John preached, the people just kept coming. No matter how far up or down the Jordan he
camped, people found him. And John didn’t like people.
John’s only solace was the promise of
the Messiah. When the Messiah appeared,
John would announce Him, fulfill the burden of his birth and finally, finally
find peace. From a child, from a fetus John
knew that the Messiah was his cousin. His
mother knew that the Christ was only 6 months younger than John. His family knew Jesus’ family but John and
Jesus didn’t meet--- for 30 years.
Thir-tee. Yeeeaaarrrrs.
John didn’t even know what Jesus looked
like.
I did not know Him; but that He should
be revealed to Israel, therefore I came baptizing with water. (John 1: 31)
But John still followed his
calling. He preached the words God gave
him. He baptized. Before Jesus spoke the Great Commission to
His apostles, John fulfilled the Great Commission by the Holy Spirit. And then the moment came.
After a long day of ministering to the
same kinds of soul-wearying crowds, one last person came down to be baptized
(Luke 3: 21). It was Jesus, and finally
John’s life made sense.
John recalled, “I did not know Him, but
He who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘Upon whom you see the Spirit
descending, and remaining on Him, this is He who baptizes with the Holy
Spirit.’ And I have seen and testified that this is the Son of God.” (John
1: 33, 34)
John could fulfill his mission. He could do what he was born to do. He baptized the Messiah, and “immediately the
Spirit drove Him into the wilderness.” (Mark 1: 12)
Wait.
What da’ crap?! Where did Jesus
go?
For a month and a half (well, for at
least 40 days), nobody knew where Jesus was.
John had finally found the cousin whose life defined his life and now he’d
lost him.
Consider that for a moment.
Your entire sense of value as a person
is wrapped in being the one who introduces the Christ to the world, and the
moment you can do that, you turn around and Pthht! He was gone.
So when Jesus shows up about a month
and a half later, the day after John has told the story of the baptism to his
disciples, “John saw Jesus coming
toward him, and said, ‘Behold! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the
world!’ This is He of whom I said, ‘After me comes a Man who is preferred
before me, for He was before me.’ “ (John 1: 29, 30)
This is John happy. This is John thinking, “Once I direct people
to Jesus, I will have fulfilled my destiny.”
So that’s exactly what John does.
The next day, John stood with two of
his disciples. And
looking at Jesus as He walked, he said, “Behold the Lamb of God!”
The two disciples heard him speak, and
they followed Jesus. (John 1: 35-37)
Messiah found? Check.
Messiah proclaimed? Check.
People sent to follow the Messiah? Check.
Ahh.
I did it. Now I can find peace.
Nope.
Now you can get thrown in prison on some
old trumped-up charge about criticizing the government. (Mark 6: 17-18)
In prison, John’s old doubts came
back. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe it was wishful thinking. Maybe Jesus wasn’t the One.
When John had heard in prison about the
works of Christ, he sent two of his disciples and said to Him, “Are You the
Coming One, or do we look for another?” (Matthew 11: 2-3)
Notice that John never doubted the idea
of the Messiah. He just wanted
reassurance that he’d picked the right Messiah. John didn’t doubt God’s
promise. He didn’t doubt his calling.
John doubted his competence in carrying out the divine assignment.
From childhood to shortly before his
death, John the Baptist doubted himself.
In a media-verse of T.D. Jakeses and Benny
Hinns, Joel Osteens, and Bishop-Apostle-Doctor-Overseer-Megapastors, people
forget that many “might men of God” are, like John the Baptist, life-long
doubters of self.
Moses, Elijah, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Amos,
etc., etc. We don’t doubt the reality of God.
We don’t doubt the Lord’s power or His plan. We absolutely, to the point of death and
beyond, believe what we preach. But we
don’t believe in ourselves.
We’re always pretty sure that today’s
the day we totally screw up the whole thing.
You see, John the Baptist’s story isn’t
important because his public ministry was unique. John’s story is important because his internal
struggle is typical.
But his triumph is typical, too.
John the Baptist saw himself as a
series of negatives: not the Christ, not the Prophet (Deuteronomy 18: 15-18), and
not Elijah.
John was wrong.
Jesus said, “If you are willing to
receive it, he is Elijah who is to come.” (Matthew 11: 14)
John was much of what he thought he
wasn’t.
When we are called and we doubt but we
follow our calling anyway, God makes us more than we are able to accept that we
can be. Many of us will die without ever
acknowledging to ourselves who we really are in God’s eyes. That’s just the way it is. That’s the way it’s been for a long time.
Just ask Jesus’ cousin, John the Baptist.
---Anderson T. Graves
II is a writer, community organizer and consultant for education, ministry,
and rural leadership development.
Rev. Anderson
T. Graves II is pastor of Miles Chapel CME Church in
Fairfield, Alabama; executive director of the Substance Abuse Youth
Networking Organization (SAYNO); and
director of rural leadership development for the National Institute for Human
Development (NIHD).
Email atgravestwo2@aol.com
#Awordtothewise
You can
help support Rev. Graves’ work by visiting his personal blog and
clicking the DONATE button on the right-hand sidebar.
Support by
check or money order may be mailed to
Miles
Chapel CME Church
P O Box
132
Fairfield,
Al 35064
