A Season of Sights
Commentary
Much of the music that accompanies this season of the year emphasizes sights. Classic Christmas season songs like “Winter Wonderland,” “White Christmas,” “Silver Bells,” and “It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas” celebrate so many of the sights that traditionally accompany this time of year. And it is, to be sure, a feast for the eyes, with the snow, the lights, and so many decorations in houses, yards, streets, and stores. It is small wonder, therefore, that children are filled with excitement by this season.
When our children were little, we took great pleasure in driving through various neighborhoods after dark during the month of December. Our kids loved looking at the Christmas lights that people had put up on their houses and in their yards. And it seemed that someone in the car was always calling for everyone else’s attention to look over here, to see over there.
That our Christmas celebrations today should feature striking and memorable sights, for that’s how the first Christmas was, as well. After all, the wise men from the east were motivated initially by what they saw — “we have seen his star in the east” (Matthew 2:2 KJV). And then, again, after those wise men left Jerusalem and resumed their journey, we read that “when they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy” (Matthew 2:10 KJV). And then, climactically, it was when they saw the child that they fell down and worshiped him. The wise men’s experience, you see, was all about sights.
The shepherds’ eyes, likewise, were filled — and awed — by the glory of the Lord that shone around them. Then it was when they had seen the baby that they began to report everything that had been told to them by the angel. And, a few days later, Simeon’s declaration over the child was, “mine eyes have seen thy salvation” (Luke 2:30 KJV).
For the wise men, for the shepherds, and for Simeon, their experience of Christmas was characterized by what they saw. And it is in that same spirit, then, that we turn to our assigned readings for this week. For our texts, likewise, encourage us to see certain sights. Interestingly, though, they are neither the stuff of snow, lights, and decorations, on the one hand, nor the stuff of babies and mangers, on the other hand. For what our Advent readings want us to see is not merely in the present or the past, but in the future.
Isaiah 35:1-10
Our Old Testament lection is a genre that our people may be unaccustomed to. Very familiar and most accessible, I suppose, is story material: narratives about what happened to Abraham or Jacob, to David or Elijah, to Peter or to Paul. An equally familiar genre is teaching: Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount, at the Last Supper, or some such. Then, slightly less familiar and accessible in many congregations are the passages of instruction found in the Old Testament law or the New Testament epistles. Then there is the poetry of Psalms and Proverbs. Then the preaching of the prophets. But it may be that the least familiar and accessible of all is the prophetic poetry, which is what Isaiah shares with us this week.
We might say that the spirit of the passage is indirectly messianic. I say “indirectly” because the text does not overtly center around some individual. But still it has a messianic quality inasmuch as the prophet is painting a perfect someday picture. And the elements of that someday picture are revelatory both about our present condition and about the perfect will of God.
First, with respect to our present condition, the poem begins with references to “wilderness” and “desert.” These evocative images speak to the state in which God finds us. They stand in stark contrast to the fertility and abundance that we observe in Eden, the place God originally created for His human creatures.
Then, later in the poem, references to “the exhausted,” “the feeble,” and “those with anxious heart” strike close to home. Unlike the “wilderness” and “desert,” these are not allusions to the condition of nature: no, these speak to the human condition. Exhausted, feeble, and anxious are diagnostic of the human need.
Then, still later in the poem, we read about those who are blind, those who are deaf, those who limp, and those who cannot speak. These are all images of limitations and frustrations — ways in which our experience is short of God’s perfect design and will. And, as such, they do not speak to us only of those specific physical constraints; they also invite us to think more broadly of other, perhaps less visible ways that what we are is less than what he intended and intends for us to be.
Over against all of these images of our present condition, the poem paints portraits of the good that God has in store. If the present condition represents the diagnosis, the expressions of God’s will speak to the cure. And we observe that the goodness of his will is comprehensive inasmuch as it speaks to each of the various realms of life — the natural world, the condition of our psyches and souls, and the needs of our bodies.
In the first case, there are promises of blossoming and rejoicing to replace the present desolation. In the second case, we read words of strength and encouragement. And, in the third case, we find promises of liberated bodies and of health and ability that are fully restored.
In the end, Isaiah offers poetic before-and-after portraits: or, better, now-and-later portraits. The “now” features the grim realities of our present condition. But the Lord does not consign us to the present state of affairs; he has better things in store. And the prophet paints a glorious picture, not only of the good things to come, but by extension also of the heart of God.
James 5:7-10
James urges the Christians in his audience — the brothers and sisters — to be patient. There may be much that separates us from that original audience in terms of time and space, but still some things that never change. In every generation, people — including the people of God — need to be encouraged to be patient.
Impatience, of course, is not an altogether bad thing. Impatience comes from a good family, after all, for its parent is eagerness and its grandparent is hope. That’s a good and godly heritage. Where impatience goes wrong is that it approaches the future without faith. When faith is added to our hope and our eagerness, then we can be patient for God’s will and work to be done. When we lose faith, however, then impatience runs wild.
When we think about impatience, we might think first of children. Children are notorious for always asking how much longer: whether it’s a long drive to a fun destination or a hungry kid eager for supper or an excited child waiting for Christmas, we know about the impatient child who keeps asking how much longer it’s going to be. I confess that as a father, I have sometimes thought my children to be impatient in some of these matters, when the fact is that I am just as impatient in comparable areas — that is, in areas where I myself don’t know the answer and don’t have the control.
The tragedy of impatience comes when it prompts us to miss God’s will. The risk, you see, is that we become tired of waiting for God and his timing, and so we take matters into our own hands. This was the terrible error of Abraham and Sarah in their impatience for God’s promise of an heir, which led to their exploitation of Hagar, and which led to unhappiness all around. David, conversely, did not fall prey to such impatience when he had the opportunity to kill King Saul and thus hasten the fulfillment of God’s promise — indeed, his anointing — for David to become king of Israel.
So impatience is always an issue, and patience is always needed. In every generation, the subject is relevant. And so we can be sure that what James said to his firstcentury audience is meaningful to our 21st-century audiences.
As Paul does elsewhere, James encourages patience based on the analogy of the farmer. The image remains a helpful one, for we all recognize the combination of effort, delay, and certainty that accompany planting and harvest. A farmer would be foolish and counterproductive if, impatient with the absence of apparent growth one week after planting, he went through his fields and dug up all the seeds in order to see if they were making appropriate progress. Yet, as we noted above, our impatience can lead to equally counterproductive behavior. Instead, the farmer does his part, and then waits with confidence.
We don't know what the particular situation in James's congregation may have been that prompted the word about complaining against one another. It's interesting, though, that the apostle’s counsel does not focus on humility or forgiveness or love, any of which would have been an appropriate note to strike. Instead, he reminds them that the judge is near.
That's a good reminder for us in any of our interpersonal conflicts. When we are in the wrong, it is a reminder but there is one who knows all. It's easy for us to inflate our own case against another person, but we can't fool the judge. And when we are the ones who have been wronged, it is a crucial reassurance to remind ourselves that the Lord knows, and we can trust him to make things right.
Finally, it is perhaps those people who have been wronged that James has in mind when he refers to the experience and example of suffering. Suffering, of course, is the setting where we are perhaps most likely to feel impatient. It's not fair, it's not desirable, and so we want it to change as soon as possible. And in our impatience, we may do things that are counterproductive. Instead, however, our invitation is to just do our part, keep faith in the Lord who is the judge, and wait confidently.
Matthew 11:2-11
At several points in the gospels, John the Baptist is associated with Elijah. That connection is not made explicitly here, but still this episode reminds me of that great Old Testament prophet. Elijah, you remember, was famously bold in the face of Ahab, king of Israel. Yet in the wake of his monumental victory at Mt. Carmel, we see him fleeing into the wilderness, weak, discouraged, and ready to quit. We remember that James says that Elijah was a man with a nature just like ours (James 5:17).
Here, in this part of the New Testament’s portrait of John the Baptist, we observe a similar sort of mixed-bag quality as what is seen in Elijah in the Old Testament. This is not to say that either man was a mixed bag morally: nothing of the sort. But it is a recognition that we human beings — even the best of us — experience undulations of mood and energy, of understanding and capacity, of clarity and strength. And so, while John seems earlier in the gospel accounts to be a preeminently self-assured sort of character, in this moment he looks more like Elijah fleeing to the wilderness. He is in prison; perhaps he knows that he will never get out; and in his trauma, he expresses some doubt, some uncertainty, some questioning about Jesus. And so he sends these messengers to Jesus with a question.
Jesus’ answer to John’s messengers is instructive beyond just the specific case of John the Baptist. Jesus invites the messengers to observe what they see and hear. Watch what Jesus does and listen to what Jesus says, and then come to your conclusions. That is an apt word not just for John, but for any doubter, skeptic, or antagonist. And it is a good word to refresh, edify, and strengthen believers, as well.
Then the folks who had been sent by John return to him, and a remarkable scene unfolds. On the one hand, what happens next is an entirely common and predictable human phenomena: the people who remain after someone has left naturally talk about the someone who has left. Or, in this case, after the messengers from John the Baptist leave, the people who remain talk a bit more about John the Baptist. Specifically, Jesus challenges the people to think about John and what was special about him.
He begins with rhetorical questions that are meant to help guide the audience to finding the correct answer. They had flocked out into the wilderness because they had intuited that John was a prophet. And that, indeed, is worth going to see!
The word “prophet” does not enjoy much positive currency in our own day. But when we think about the role that the various prophets played in the Old Testament, along with the esteem with which they were held (at least in retrospect, if not always in the moment), the prospect that there was a genuine prophet in their midst was surely an irresistible attraction to the people of John’s day. And so, yes, Jesus confirms that they had gone out to see a prophet.
And yet Jesus does not end with that high assessment. No, He goes on to declare that John was even greater than a prophet. And that should prompt any student of the Bible to ask, “What human being is greater than a prophet?”
Again, turning to the Old Testament, we find little evidence of anyone outranking a prophet. Moses is a prophet, and he gives the people the law, establishing the covenant between God and the nation of Israel. Samuel was a prophet, and he proves to be the kingmaker in Israel. Nathan, Elijah, Isaiah, and Jeremiah were all prophets who, in their days, presumed to challenge and correct monarchs. Prophets like Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Malachi challenge and correct priests, as well.
Who, then, outranks a prophet? What does it mean to say that John was more than a prophet?
First, John is more than a prophet inasmuch as he is also the fulfillment of prophecy. Make a list of the people who qualify as the fulfillment of prophecy in the Bible, and you find a pretty short and select list. It is a matter of great significance for Jesus to say, “This is the one about whom it is written...”
And then Jesus raises the stakes still higher. “Among those born of women,” He says, “there has not arisen anyone greater than John the Baptist.” Or, in our vernacular, we might say that John was the greatest person ever born.
Interpreters have different opinions about Jesus’ use of “those born of women.” For myself, I see it as a prelude to his subsequent remark about those who are “in the kingdom.” Perhaps we might infer that those “born of women” contrasts with those “born of the Spirit” (John 3:5-8). It may be a juxtaposition of the physical with the spiritual.
In any case, tally up all the folks who had been born prior to the birth of John the Baptist. We see some of the great saints of scripture, of course, including Enoch, Abraham, Moses, and Daniel. We think of epic figures like Hammurabi, Nebuchadnezzar, Plato, Aristotle, Alexander, and Caesar. Yet wherever any of these folks may fall on the ranking of all-time greats, Jesus says that John is number one. He was a prophet; he was the fulfillment of prophecy; he was the one who inaugurated and announced the coming of God’s kingdom; and he was the forerunner who prepared the way of the Lord!
Application
Eleanor Farjeon’s Christmas carol says, “People, look east.”1 It’s a charming carol, but she gives too narrow an instruction. Rather, the assigned texts and our own experience tell us to look in every direction!
First, we look to the past. We hear Jesus’ response to the messengers from John the Baptist. He told them to report what they saw, and what they saw was the strong and compassionate ministry of Jesus. He was healing the sick, raising the dead, and preaching the gospel. These sights bore witness to who Jesus was, and they served to answer John’s question about whether Jesus was in fact the one they had been waiting for.
And that glimpse of Jesus’ earthly ministry combines with our Old Testament and epistle readings to prompt us to look forward, to catch sight of a certain future. Jesus’ earthly ministry, you see, is to the eschaton what his resurrection is to ours. In other words, just as Paul says that Jesus’ resurrection was the firstfruits — a promise of a fuller, ultimate, universal resurrection — so his ministry likewise anticipates the fullness and perfection of his someday reign. Rather than a smattering of healings and resurrections in the towns and villages of first-century Palestine, there will be healings and resurrections across the board.
This, then, is the sort of lovely portrait that is painted for us in the book of the prophet Isaiah. The prophet’s poem is a collage of beautiful images: images of restoration and redemption; images of the imperfect being made perfect. The beautiful images combine to offer a glimpse of the reign of Christ.
James, meanwhile, is not so poetic, but he also contributes to the overall scene. His promise of the judge being at hand is also, in its own way, an anticipation of the perfect future. The judge, you see, is the one who comes to eradicate wrongs and to make things right. In this regard, the image of the judge is just a variation on the same themes we see in the other passages. The wilderness blossoming, the weary being strengthened, the desolate becoming fertile, the crippled being healed, the dead being raised — these are all part of the same grand portrait of redemption and God’s ultimate victory.
We are accustomed to looking at snow and lights and decorations at this time of year, and they are all lovely. But this week’s texts prompt us to look around in a bigger and broader way. What the Lord did at Christmas was just the beginning. And the sights that surround his past and his future are lovelier still than even all the sights we cherish at this time of year.
Alternative Application(s)
James 5:7-10 — “Here Comes the Judge”
A generation ago, comedian Flip Wilson made famous the exclamation, “Here comes the judge!” It was, in his skits, a punchline. But for the Apostle James, it is an immensely serious and impactful message.
When James wrote to his congregation of first-century Christians, he challenged them in numerous ways to mend their behavior. He exhorted them in matters of preferential treatment, the dangers of the tongue, the risk of hearing but not heeding God’s word, the intoxicating hazards of riches, and the delusion of faith unaccompanied by works. And, as part of his encouragement to be on their best behavior, he urged them to be charitable with one another. And the reason he gave them for guarding their thoughts, words, and actions in that part of life might be rightly applied to every other area: “behold, the judge is standing right at the door.”
Now there is a certain verbal significance in what James wrote at that exact moment in his letter that should not be overlooked. His specific injunction was that the brothers and sisters within that congregation not complain against one another “so that you may not be judged.” And that reference to the prospect of being judged is followed immediately, then, by the announcement that the judge is standing at the door. Nevertheless, that prospect — the judge being at hand — should inform all behavior, not merely the matter of complaining against one another.
James’ sober word of warning resonates with so many other parts of life. How many children or teens have hastily adjusted their behavior when they have heard a parent arriving at the door? How many classrooms full of students have suddenly come to order when the teacher appeared at the door? How many employees have made quick changes in focus or effort when the boss comes around the corner? And how many drivers have coincidentally chosen to decrease their speed and increase their attentiveness when a police car has been spotted nearby?
The notion that people’s behavior would change at the prospect of the judge being right at the door rings true. We know that’s how people are. We know that’s how we are. The question is: do we know how true James’ words are?
We may be tempted to think that the judge is not so near because it has been so long. That is to say, for the first-century Christians to have expected Jesus to return any day was understandable. But now, two millennia later, that sense of expectation has decreased dramatically. So how seriously should we take James’ image?
Two things deserve to be said on that point.
First, let us remember that a decrease in expectation has nothing to do with the Lord’s proximity. In other words, inasmuch as no one knows the day or the hour, the human sense of expectation has no relation to reality. On the contrary, the New Testament frequently warns that Jesus’ return will come when people do not expect it.
Second, it should be noted that length of time is not the same thing as distance. We might be subconsciously confused on this point, as though the Lord’s return being some time away implies that he is some distance away. But that is not necessarily the case. For we don’t know all the factors in his timing, but it is entirely plausible and appropriate to say that the judge was right at the door in James’ day and that he is still right at the door today. In other words, in either instance, he is able to walk through the door at any moment.
And that image — that truth — should inform our behavior as much as it was meant to inform the behavior and relationship of James’ original audience. Let us conduct ourselves as people who know and understand that “here comes the judge!”
_________
1 Eleanor Farjeon, People, Look East, UMH #202
When our children were little, we took great pleasure in driving through various neighborhoods after dark during the month of December. Our kids loved looking at the Christmas lights that people had put up on their houses and in their yards. And it seemed that someone in the car was always calling for everyone else’s attention to look over here, to see over there.
That our Christmas celebrations today should feature striking and memorable sights, for that’s how the first Christmas was, as well. After all, the wise men from the east were motivated initially by what they saw — “we have seen his star in the east” (Matthew 2:2 KJV). And then, again, after those wise men left Jerusalem and resumed their journey, we read that “when they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy” (Matthew 2:10 KJV). And then, climactically, it was when they saw the child that they fell down and worshiped him. The wise men’s experience, you see, was all about sights.
The shepherds’ eyes, likewise, were filled — and awed — by the glory of the Lord that shone around them. Then it was when they had seen the baby that they began to report everything that had been told to them by the angel. And, a few days later, Simeon’s declaration over the child was, “mine eyes have seen thy salvation” (Luke 2:30 KJV).
For the wise men, for the shepherds, and for Simeon, their experience of Christmas was characterized by what they saw. And it is in that same spirit, then, that we turn to our assigned readings for this week. For our texts, likewise, encourage us to see certain sights. Interestingly, though, they are neither the stuff of snow, lights, and decorations, on the one hand, nor the stuff of babies and mangers, on the other hand. For what our Advent readings want us to see is not merely in the present or the past, but in the future.
Isaiah 35:1-10
Our Old Testament lection is a genre that our people may be unaccustomed to. Very familiar and most accessible, I suppose, is story material: narratives about what happened to Abraham or Jacob, to David or Elijah, to Peter or to Paul. An equally familiar genre is teaching: Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount, at the Last Supper, or some such. Then, slightly less familiar and accessible in many congregations are the passages of instruction found in the Old Testament law or the New Testament epistles. Then there is the poetry of Psalms and Proverbs. Then the preaching of the prophets. But it may be that the least familiar and accessible of all is the prophetic poetry, which is what Isaiah shares with us this week.
We might say that the spirit of the passage is indirectly messianic. I say “indirectly” because the text does not overtly center around some individual. But still it has a messianic quality inasmuch as the prophet is painting a perfect someday picture. And the elements of that someday picture are revelatory both about our present condition and about the perfect will of God.
First, with respect to our present condition, the poem begins with references to “wilderness” and “desert.” These evocative images speak to the state in which God finds us. They stand in stark contrast to the fertility and abundance that we observe in Eden, the place God originally created for His human creatures.
Then, later in the poem, references to “the exhausted,” “the feeble,” and “those with anxious heart” strike close to home. Unlike the “wilderness” and “desert,” these are not allusions to the condition of nature: no, these speak to the human condition. Exhausted, feeble, and anxious are diagnostic of the human need.
Then, still later in the poem, we read about those who are blind, those who are deaf, those who limp, and those who cannot speak. These are all images of limitations and frustrations — ways in which our experience is short of God’s perfect design and will. And, as such, they do not speak to us only of those specific physical constraints; they also invite us to think more broadly of other, perhaps less visible ways that what we are is less than what he intended and intends for us to be.
Over against all of these images of our present condition, the poem paints portraits of the good that God has in store. If the present condition represents the diagnosis, the expressions of God’s will speak to the cure. And we observe that the goodness of his will is comprehensive inasmuch as it speaks to each of the various realms of life — the natural world, the condition of our psyches and souls, and the needs of our bodies.
In the first case, there are promises of blossoming and rejoicing to replace the present desolation. In the second case, we read words of strength and encouragement. And, in the third case, we find promises of liberated bodies and of health and ability that are fully restored.
In the end, Isaiah offers poetic before-and-after portraits: or, better, now-and-later portraits. The “now” features the grim realities of our present condition. But the Lord does not consign us to the present state of affairs; he has better things in store. And the prophet paints a glorious picture, not only of the good things to come, but by extension also of the heart of God.
James 5:7-10
James urges the Christians in his audience — the brothers and sisters — to be patient. There may be much that separates us from that original audience in terms of time and space, but still some things that never change. In every generation, people — including the people of God — need to be encouraged to be patient.
Impatience, of course, is not an altogether bad thing. Impatience comes from a good family, after all, for its parent is eagerness and its grandparent is hope. That’s a good and godly heritage. Where impatience goes wrong is that it approaches the future without faith. When faith is added to our hope and our eagerness, then we can be patient for God’s will and work to be done. When we lose faith, however, then impatience runs wild.
When we think about impatience, we might think first of children. Children are notorious for always asking how much longer: whether it’s a long drive to a fun destination or a hungry kid eager for supper or an excited child waiting for Christmas, we know about the impatient child who keeps asking how much longer it’s going to be. I confess that as a father, I have sometimes thought my children to be impatient in some of these matters, when the fact is that I am just as impatient in comparable areas — that is, in areas where I myself don’t know the answer and don’t have the control.
The tragedy of impatience comes when it prompts us to miss God’s will. The risk, you see, is that we become tired of waiting for God and his timing, and so we take matters into our own hands. This was the terrible error of Abraham and Sarah in their impatience for God’s promise of an heir, which led to their exploitation of Hagar, and which led to unhappiness all around. David, conversely, did not fall prey to such impatience when he had the opportunity to kill King Saul and thus hasten the fulfillment of God’s promise — indeed, his anointing — for David to become king of Israel.
So impatience is always an issue, and patience is always needed. In every generation, the subject is relevant. And so we can be sure that what James said to his firstcentury audience is meaningful to our 21st-century audiences.
As Paul does elsewhere, James encourages patience based on the analogy of the farmer. The image remains a helpful one, for we all recognize the combination of effort, delay, and certainty that accompany planting and harvest. A farmer would be foolish and counterproductive if, impatient with the absence of apparent growth one week after planting, he went through his fields and dug up all the seeds in order to see if they were making appropriate progress. Yet, as we noted above, our impatience can lead to equally counterproductive behavior. Instead, the farmer does his part, and then waits with confidence.
We don't know what the particular situation in James's congregation may have been that prompted the word about complaining against one another. It's interesting, though, that the apostle’s counsel does not focus on humility or forgiveness or love, any of which would have been an appropriate note to strike. Instead, he reminds them that the judge is near.
That's a good reminder for us in any of our interpersonal conflicts. When we are in the wrong, it is a reminder but there is one who knows all. It's easy for us to inflate our own case against another person, but we can't fool the judge. And when we are the ones who have been wronged, it is a crucial reassurance to remind ourselves that the Lord knows, and we can trust him to make things right.
Finally, it is perhaps those people who have been wronged that James has in mind when he refers to the experience and example of suffering. Suffering, of course, is the setting where we are perhaps most likely to feel impatient. It's not fair, it's not desirable, and so we want it to change as soon as possible. And in our impatience, we may do things that are counterproductive. Instead, however, our invitation is to just do our part, keep faith in the Lord who is the judge, and wait confidently.
Matthew 11:2-11
At several points in the gospels, John the Baptist is associated with Elijah. That connection is not made explicitly here, but still this episode reminds me of that great Old Testament prophet. Elijah, you remember, was famously bold in the face of Ahab, king of Israel. Yet in the wake of his monumental victory at Mt. Carmel, we see him fleeing into the wilderness, weak, discouraged, and ready to quit. We remember that James says that Elijah was a man with a nature just like ours (James 5:17).
Here, in this part of the New Testament’s portrait of John the Baptist, we observe a similar sort of mixed-bag quality as what is seen in Elijah in the Old Testament. This is not to say that either man was a mixed bag morally: nothing of the sort. But it is a recognition that we human beings — even the best of us — experience undulations of mood and energy, of understanding and capacity, of clarity and strength. And so, while John seems earlier in the gospel accounts to be a preeminently self-assured sort of character, in this moment he looks more like Elijah fleeing to the wilderness. He is in prison; perhaps he knows that he will never get out; and in his trauma, he expresses some doubt, some uncertainty, some questioning about Jesus. And so he sends these messengers to Jesus with a question.
Jesus’ answer to John’s messengers is instructive beyond just the specific case of John the Baptist. Jesus invites the messengers to observe what they see and hear. Watch what Jesus does and listen to what Jesus says, and then come to your conclusions. That is an apt word not just for John, but for any doubter, skeptic, or antagonist. And it is a good word to refresh, edify, and strengthen believers, as well.
Then the folks who had been sent by John return to him, and a remarkable scene unfolds. On the one hand, what happens next is an entirely common and predictable human phenomena: the people who remain after someone has left naturally talk about the someone who has left. Or, in this case, after the messengers from John the Baptist leave, the people who remain talk a bit more about John the Baptist. Specifically, Jesus challenges the people to think about John and what was special about him.
He begins with rhetorical questions that are meant to help guide the audience to finding the correct answer. They had flocked out into the wilderness because they had intuited that John was a prophet. And that, indeed, is worth going to see!
The word “prophet” does not enjoy much positive currency in our own day. But when we think about the role that the various prophets played in the Old Testament, along with the esteem with which they were held (at least in retrospect, if not always in the moment), the prospect that there was a genuine prophet in their midst was surely an irresistible attraction to the people of John’s day. And so, yes, Jesus confirms that they had gone out to see a prophet.
And yet Jesus does not end with that high assessment. No, He goes on to declare that John was even greater than a prophet. And that should prompt any student of the Bible to ask, “What human being is greater than a prophet?”
Again, turning to the Old Testament, we find little evidence of anyone outranking a prophet. Moses is a prophet, and he gives the people the law, establishing the covenant between God and the nation of Israel. Samuel was a prophet, and he proves to be the kingmaker in Israel. Nathan, Elijah, Isaiah, and Jeremiah were all prophets who, in their days, presumed to challenge and correct monarchs. Prophets like Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Malachi challenge and correct priests, as well.
Who, then, outranks a prophet? What does it mean to say that John was more than a prophet?
First, John is more than a prophet inasmuch as he is also the fulfillment of prophecy. Make a list of the people who qualify as the fulfillment of prophecy in the Bible, and you find a pretty short and select list. It is a matter of great significance for Jesus to say, “This is the one about whom it is written...”
And then Jesus raises the stakes still higher. “Among those born of women,” He says, “there has not arisen anyone greater than John the Baptist.” Or, in our vernacular, we might say that John was the greatest person ever born.
Interpreters have different opinions about Jesus’ use of “those born of women.” For myself, I see it as a prelude to his subsequent remark about those who are “in the kingdom.” Perhaps we might infer that those “born of women” contrasts with those “born of the Spirit” (John 3:5-8). It may be a juxtaposition of the physical with the spiritual.
In any case, tally up all the folks who had been born prior to the birth of John the Baptist. We see some of the great saints of scripture, of course, including Enoch, Abraham, Moses, and Daniel. We think of epic figures like Hammurabi, Nebuchadnezzar, Plato, Aristotle, Alexander, and Caesar. Yet wherever any of these folks may fall on the ranking of all-time greats, Jesus says that John is number one. He was a prophet; he was the fulfillment of prophecy; he was the one who inaugurated and announced the coming of God’s kingdom; and he was the forerunner who prepared the way of the Lord!
Application
Eleanor Farjeon’s Christmas carol says, “People, look east.”1 It’s a charming carol, but she gives too narrow an instruction. Rather, the assigned texts and our own experience tell us to look in every direction!
First, we look to the past. We hear Jesus’ response to the messengers from John the Baptist. He told them to report what they saw, and what they saw was the strong and compassionate ministry of Jesus. He was healing the sick, raising the dead, and preaching the gospel. These sights bore witness to who Jesus was, and they served to answer John’s question about whether Jesus was in fact the one they had been waiting for.
And that glimpse of Jesus’ earthly ministry combines with our Old Testament and epistle readings to prompt us to look forward, to catch sight of a certain future. Jesus’ earthly ministry, you see, is to the eschaton what his resurrection is to ours. In other words, just as Paul says that Jesus’ resurrection was the firstfruits — a promise of a fuller, ultimate, universal resurrection — so his ministry likewise anticipates the fullness and perfection of his someday reign. Rather than a smattering of healings and resurrections in the towns and villages of first-century Palestine, there will be healings and resurrections across the board.
This, then, is the sort of lovely portrait that is painted for us in the book of the prophet Isaiah. The prophet’s poem is a collage of beautiful images: images of restoration and redemption; images of the imperfect being made perfect. The beautiful images combine to offer a glimpse of the reign of Christ.
James, meanwhile, is not so poetic, but he also contributes to the overall scene. His promise of the judge being at hand is also, in its own way, an anticipation of the perfect future. The judge, you see, is the one who comes to eradicate wrongs and to make things right. In this regard, the image of the judge is just a variation on the same themes we see in the other passages. The wilderness blossoming, the weary being strengthened, the desolate becoming fertile, the crippled being healed, the dead being raised — these are all part of the same grand portrait of redemption and God’s ultimate victory.
We are accustomed to looking at snow and lights and decorations at this time of year, and they are all lovely. But this week’s texts prompt us to look around in a bigger and broader way. What the Lord did at Christmas was just the beginning. And the sights that surround his past and his future are lovelier still than even all the sights we cherish at this time of year.
Alternative Application(s)
James 5:7-10 — “Here Comes the Judge”
A generation ago, comedian Flip Wilson made famous the exclamation, “Here comes the judge!” It was, in his skits, a punchline. But for the Apostle James, it is an immensely serious and impactful message.
When James wrote to his congregation of first-century Christians, he challenged them in numerous ways to mend their behavior. He exhorted them in matters of preferential treatment, the dangers of the tongue, the risk of hearing but not heeding God’s word, the intoxicating hazards of riches, and the delusion of faith unaccompanied by works. And, as part of his encouragement to be on their best behavior, he urged them to be charitable with one another. And the reason he gave them for guarding their thoughts, words, and actions in that part of life might be rightly applied to every other area: “behold, the judge is standing right at the door.”
Now there is a certain verbal significance in what James wrote at that exact moment in his letter that should not be overlooked. His specific injunction was that the brothers and sisters within that congregation not complain against one another “so that you may not be judged.” And that reference to the prospect of being judged is followed immediately, then, by the announcement that the judge is standing at the door. Nevertheless, that prospect — the judge being at hand — should inform all behavior, not merely the matter of complaining against one another.
James’ sober word of warning resonates with so many other parts of life. How many children or teens have hastily adjusted their behavior when they have heard a parent arriving at the door? How many classrooms full of students have suddenly come to order when the teacher appeared at the door? How many employees have made quick changes in focus or effort when the boss comes around the corner? And how many drivers have coincidentally chosen to decrease their speed and increase their attentiveness when a police car has been spotted nearby?
The notion that people’s behavior would change at the prospect of the judge being right at the door rings true. We know that’s how people are. We know that’s how we are. The question is: do we know how true James’ words are?
We may be tempted to think that the judge is not so near because it has been so long. That is to say, for the first-century Christians to have expected Jesus to return any day was understandable. But now, two millennia later, that sense of expectation has decreased dramatically. So how seriously should we take James’ image?
Two things deserve to be said on that point.
First, let us remember that a decrease in expectation has nothing to do with the Lord’s proximity. In other words, inasmuch as no one knows the day or the hour, the human sense of expectation has no relation to reality. On the contrary, the New Testament frequently warns that Jesus’ return will come when people do not expect it.
Second, it should be noted that length of time is not the same thing as distance. We might be subconsciously confused on this point, as though the Lord’s return being some time away implies that he is some distance away. But that is not necessarily the case. For we don’t know all the factors in his timing, but it is entirely plausible and appropriate to say that the judge was right at the door in James’ day and that he is still right at the door today. In other words, in either instance, he is able to walk through the door at any moment.
And that image — that truth — should inform our behavior as much as it was meant to inform the behavior and relationship of James’ original audience. Let us conduct ourselves as people who know and understand that “here comes the judge!”
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1 Eleanor Farjeon, People, Look East, UMH #202
