John, the Baptizer
Drama
I Met Jesus When He Was Born
DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES FOR ADVENT
"Prepare ye the way of the Lord."
Yesterday was the climax of my life! Something happened that I consider to be the fulfillment of everything that I have lived for. It is my desire now to go out and try to tell everybody about it. Yesterday I saw the Messiah! Actually! I saw the Messiah himself! I saw him face to face! I touched him! I talked with him!
Before I tell you more about what happened yesterday, let me tell you a little about myself. I am a Jew, one of God's chosen people. My name is John bar-Zacharias, but during these past few months, I have become known by another name - John, the Baptizer. My citizenship is in Heaven - there is no place here on this earth that I can really call home - but, I was born and brought up in a little village in the midst of the hill country of Judea, about four miles west of Jerusalem - the village of Fin Karem. My father was Zacharias, the priest; my mother's name was Elizabeth.
I myself am a miracle. I was an answer to prayer, and my birth was a supernatural event - for my mother and father were both well up in years when I was born. Physically, it should have been impossible for my mother to have had a child. Yet, elderly though they were, my mother and father continued to pray that a child would be born to them. Like Samuel and like Samson, I entered the world only through divine intervention. That's why I say that I myself am a miracle. Except for an act of God ... I would not ... have been.
Over and over, during the days of my boyhood, my parents would relate the story of the circumstances that preceded my birth. As I said, father was a priest and, on one particular day, he was appointed to go into the inner sanctuary of the Temple, there to place the incense upon the holy altar; this was such a privilege that it came to any priest only once in his lifetime. And there were so many priests that most of them never received this honor.
My father had eagerly anticipated this day. With a special prayer, not only for his people, but also for himself and for my mother, he entered the holy place. As he stepped up to the altar of incense, an angel appeared! He has told me the story so often that I can easily picture it for myself. The angel spoke to him and said, "Zacharias, your prayers have been answered. Elizabeth will give birth to a son. This son will have a very special mission in life. His name is to be John."
Father was startled and frightened, but he replied to the angel, asking how this was possible, how he could be sure, and added, "Shouldn't some sign be given?"
The angel, a bit annoyed, straightened himself up and said, "I am Gabriel, sent from the presence of God, the Almighty; there will be a sign: from this moment, until the day this announcement is fulfilled, you shall be dumb." The angel disappeared, and at that instant father became completely speechless, unable to utter a sound.
As he came from the sanctuary, out into the presence of the people in the court, the priest was required to lead a prayer of thanksgiving. Father was, of course, unable to offer this prayer. He stood there, pointing to his lips, trying to indicate that he wasn't able to speak, until the high priest found it necessary to step up and conclude the remainder of the service. It was an embarrassing - yet an exciting - experience, and you can well imagine the impression it left upon my father.
The months passed, and the day arrived when I was born. My parents dedicated me, from my birth, into the service of the Lord God. They taught me his righteousness and his truth. They not only taught me about the holiness of God; they demonstrated it. They not only talked about the love of God; they lived it.
From my early boyhood, they kept me constantly aware that I was different, that I had been sent for some unique purpose. To this day I'm grateful for the kind of parents that I had - godly, gracious, committed people of God. Would that all children might have such devoted parents.
While I was a boy, I spent much time in the nearby wilderness. I grew to love the desert, and day after day would go for long walks, until there was nobody in the area who knew that countryside any better than I.
My parents died while I was but a youth; after all, each was advanced in years when I was born. They died within a few weeks of each other. After they were gone, I felt led to go and live in the wilderness, the desert that I loved so much and knew so intimately.
It was a rough life. Skins of animals are the only clothing I've had for years. For nourishment - locusts, wild honey, and the other foods that anyone can find in the desert, if his senses are keen. Though it was desolate and scorching, though the ravines and hillsides were steep and sandy, still I loved the desert. It was just the right kind of a life for me. My parents had taught me the value of self-denial; I never knew the luxury and comforts, the self-indulgence, that many people find in their home life.
I made my home in the rocky caves that were near the Salt Sea. Thus, I was never very far from the fresh water and the green trees of the Jordan valley. Likewise, I was never very far from the friendly members of the Qumran community - the Essene people. Whenever I desired company, I sought out their quiet companionship. Whenever I desired the cool shade, I went down to the waters of the Jordan. This was the kind of life for me.
While this life seems severe to most people, it has many advantages. How tragic that so many persons cannot endure being alone. There is a great value in solitude - simply being by yourself - a value that nobody can appreciate until he has actually experienced it. Out in the desert, alone, there is time to see things in their proper perspective. Away from the hurry and the noise of the world and of its people, there is time to listen for the voice of God and to hear it more clearly. There is time to ponder, to pray, to read. How fortunate I was to be able to borrow scrolls from the library at Qumran. These godly people were so generous in permitting me to use their precious books. Long hours have I spent poring over the holy Scriptures. How I loved the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, one of the great men of God. Over and over I read that scroll; again and again I meditated upon it.
One day, following a long period of isolation in the wilderness, I had a dream that was a turning point in my life. I say it was a dream, but it was so vivid that it seemed real. There has been more than once in my life when the line between dreams and reality has become very thin.
This dream reminded me of the experience of Moses, on the mountainside with the burning bush ... or of Ezekiel, when he found himself in the valley of dry bones ... or of Elijah, in the rocky cave at Mt. Horeb, when he heard the still, small voice.
It seemed as if I were lifted completely out of myself and set down far out in the middle of nowhere, on a hillside in the midst of a sandy, barren plain. Suddenly, I heard a voide. I dropped to my knees, for it was the voice of God himself! He told me who he was, and why I had
been sent into the world.
The Messiah was to come! In fact, he told me, the Messiah was already near! I was actually going to see him! Indeed, I was to prepare the way, to alert the people to be ready and watching for his advent. All of this happened to me in that dream. You can understand why this is one experience that I'll never forget.
Now my problem was this: how was I - a solitary hermit, unfit and untrained - how was I to perform this great task? How could I prepare the way for the Deliverer, the Savior of our people? After all, the desert was all that I knew. My natural tendency was to withdraw from society. How could I possibly be the one to do this? I felt unworthy - like Moses, like Ezekiel, like Elijah - but, inwardly, there was a compulsion that I had to obey.
And so I began, trying to do it the best way I knew - the only way I knew - by simply telling people. I told my friends at the Qumran community. I knew small groups of shepherds in the wilderness, and I talked with them. As the nomads and the Bedouins wandered by, I met with their leaders and with their families. When caravans passed close by, I would walk beside the travelers and begin to speak.
I was amazed and surprised at the results. My reputation spread. Soon crowds began to gather - coming from the neighboring villages, even from the Holy City itself - to listen to me preach. Throngs of people would sit around, just waiting for me to begin to speak. Honestly, it had to be the power of God; it couldn't have been me. I had no eloquence; I simply said what was in my heart. It was the only thing I knew to do - I couldn't have been any different than I was. There had to be something more than what I was saying, because all I did was to repeat to these people what God had told me: that the kingdom of heaven was at hand ... that the Messiah was going to come ... that now was the time to repent and live like children of God's family ought to live.
It was quite natural, I suppose, since I was so familiar with them, that I often used the words of Isaiah in my preaching: "Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low; and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain. And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed."
The response to my message was so astonishing that I wasn't sure if it was all a dream ... or real. I wasn't sure that it was really happening. Again that thin line between dreams and reality began to fade.
It was remarkable to me that I was so popular, for it almost seemed that I was deliberately courting unpopularity. My preaching was stern and harsh, almost cruel. I pronounced judgment upon all the common sins of mankind, and accused my listeners of all kinds of wickedness. I called them vipers; I called them thieves; I called them liars; I called them hypocrites. I told them that they needed to drop to their knees in repentance and cry out for mercy. Yet, severe and relentless as I was, they listened - and returned for more!
I felt that there ought to be some means of openly indicating that a decision had been made within their hearts. So I called upon the people to come right down into the river Jordan with me and allow me to baptize them as a public sign of their confession of sin. This is where my name originated, for they started to call me John, the Baptizer.
They continued to come. The crowds became larger. I was urged to lead a rebellion, to establish a new government. I was even visited by a committee from the priests in Jerusalem, asking who I was - whether I was the Deliverer himself, or Elijah come back to life, or one of the prophets.
All I could tell them was, "No, no, I'm only a voice! I'm only a voice crying in the wilderness. Who I am doesn't make any difference; I'm not important. There's one coming after me; he's the one who matters! The Messiah is going to come; he's going to be here soon; and now is the time for us to prepare - prepare by making ourselves fit for the coming of the King. We need to be the right kind of people - holy people, righteous, godly people - to live in the kingdom of Heaven."
This was the only message that I had - that the one who was coming after me was so great and so wonderful, so majestic and so powerful, that I wasn't worthy even to stoop down and take off his sandals. "I baptize with water," I told them, "but he will baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire. And it is urgent to prepare yourselves for his coming."
Then yesterday, it happened. He came! He stepped out of the crowd, came up before me, and asked me to baptize him. Instinctively, I realized who he was - there was something about his eyes, something about his face, something about his whole manner. God spoke within my heart and said, "This is he."
I hesitated ... then turning aside, so the crowd could not hear, I whispered, "But you should be the one to baptize me."
He insisted, however; he insisted that he place this stamp of approval upon my ministry; he insisted that he identify himself with the common people. Together we went down into the water, and I baptized him - baptized the Messiah!
As the water settled, a dove appeared out of nowhere, flew down from the sky, and came to rest on his shoulder. There was the rumbling of thunder - although not a cloud was visible in the clear, blue sky - and I heard a voice from heaven distinctly say, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased."
Now my work has been completed; my purpose is fulfilled. The Messiah is here; God's son has come - the Savior of the world, the King of kings, the Lord of lords! He's going to bring a new outlook on everything; he's going to change attitudes, transform hearts, remake the entire world. The kingdom of God is at hand; the Messiah, the Deliverer is here; and we - all of us - need to repent of our sins and learn to live like children of a heavenly kingdom ought to live - in holiness and purity, in justice and righteousness.
Yes, my mission has been accomplished; the way has been prepared. He is now here. But I want always to serve him and obey him, to follow him and be faithful to his cause; I want to live for him as long as God keeps me upon this earth. He must increase; I must decrease. He must increase; we must decrease. My job, and yours - the task of everyone who comes to know the Messiah - is to point people toward this Christ and say, "Behold, the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world."
Yesterday was the climax of my life! Something happened that I consider to be the fulfillment of everything that I have lived for. It is my desire now to go out and try to tell everybody about it. Yesterday I saw the Messiah! Actually! I saw the Messiah himself! I saw him face to face! I touched him! I talked with him!
Before I tell you more about what happened yesterday, let me tell you a little about myself. I am a Jew, one of God's chosen people. My name is John bar-Zacharias, but during these past few months, I have become known by another name - John, the Baptizer. My citizenship is in Heaven - there is no place here on this earth that I can really call home - but, I was born and brought up in a little village in the midst of the hill country of Judea, about four miles west of Jerusalem - the village of Fin Karem. My father was Zacharias, the priest; my mother's name was Elizabeth.
I myself am a miracle. I was an answer to prayer, and my birth was a supernatural event - for my mother and father were both well up in years when I was born. Physically, it should have been impossible for my mother to have had a child. Yet, elderly though they were, my mother and father continued to pray that a child would be born to them. Like Samuel and like Samson, I entered the world only through divine intervention. That's why I say that I myself am a miracle. Except for an act of God ... I would not ... have been.
Over and over, during the days of my boyhood, my parents would relate the story of the circumstances that preceded my birth. As I said, father was a priest and, on one particular day, he was appointed to go into the inner sanctuary of the Temple, there to place the incense upon the holy altar; this was such a privilege that it came to any priest only once in his lifetime. And there were so many priests that most of them never received this honor.
My father had eagerly anticipated this day. With a special prayer, not only for his people, but also for himself and for my mother, he entered the holy place. As he stepped up to the altar of incense, an angel appeared! He has told me the story so often that I can easily picture it for myself. The angel spoke to him and said, "Zacharias, your prayers have been answered. Elizabeth will give birth to a son. This son will have a very special mission in life. His name is to be John."
Father was startled and frightened, but he replied to the angel, asking how this was possible, how he could be sure, and added, "Shouldn't some sign be given?"
The angel, a bit annoyed, straightened himself up and said, "I am Gabriel, sent from the presence of God, the Almighty; there will be a sign: from this moment, until the day this announcement is fulfilled, you shall be dumb." The angel disappeared, and at that instant father became completely speechless, unable to utter a sound.
As he came from the sanctuary, out into the presence of the people in the court, the priest was required to lead a prayer of thanksgiving. Father was, of course, unable to offer this prayer. He stood there, pointing to his lips, trying to indicate that he wasn't able to speak, until the high priest found it necessary to step up and conclude the remainder of the service. It was an embarrassing - yet an exciting - experience, and you can well imagine the impression it left upon my father.
The months passed, and the day arrived when I was born. My parents dedicated me, from my birth, into the service of the Lord God. They taught me his righteousness and his truth. They not only taught me about the holiness of God; they demonstrated it. They not only talked about the love of God; they lived it.
From my early boyhood, they kept me constantly aware that I was different, that I had been sent for some unique purpose. To this day I'm grateful for the kind of parents that I had - godly, gracious, committed people of God. Would that all children might have such devoted parents.
While I was a boy, I spent much time in the nearby wilderness. I grew to love the desert, and day after day would go for long walks, until there was nobody in the area who knew that countryside any better than I.
My parents died while I was but a youth; after all, each was advanced in years when I was born. They died within a few weeks of each other. After they were gone, I felt led to go and live in the wilderness, the desert that I loved so much and knew so intimately.
It was a rough life. Skins of animals are the only clothing I've had for years. For nourishment - locusts, wild honey, and the other foods that anyone can find in the desert, if his senses are keen. Though it was desolate and scorching, though the ravines and hillsides were steep and sandy, still I loved the desert. It was just the right kind of a life for me. My parents had taught me the value of self-denial; I never knew the luxury and comforts, the self-indulgence, that many people find in their home life.
I made my home in the rocky caves that were near the Salt Sea. Thus, I was never very far from the fresh water and the green trees of the Jordan valley. Likewise, I was never very far from the friendly members of the Qumran community - the Essene people. Whenever I desired company, I sought out their quiet companionship. Whenever I desired the cool shade, I went down to the waters of the Jordan. This was the kind of life for me.
While this life seems severe to most people, it has many advantages. How tragic that so many persons cannot endure being alone. There is a great value in solitude - simply being by yourself - a value that nobody can appreciate until he has actually experienced it. Out in the desert, alone, there is time to see things in their proper perspective. Away from the hurry and the noise of the world and of its people, there is time to listen for the voice of God and to hear it more clearly. There is time to ponder, to pray, to read. How fortunate I was to be able to borrow scrolls from the library at Qumran. These godly people were so generous in permitting me to use their precious books. Long hours have I spent poring over the holy Scriptures. How I loved the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, one of the great men of God. Over and over I read that scroll; again and again I meditated upon it.
One day, following a long period of isolation in the wilderness, I had a dream that was a turning point in my life. I say it was a dream, but it was so vivid that it seemed real. There has been more than once in my life when the line between dreams and reality has become very thin.
This dream reminded me of the experience of Moses, on the mountainside with the burning bush ... or of Ezekiel, when he found himself in the valley of dry bones ... or of Elijah, in the rocky cave at Mt. Horeb, when he heard the still, small voice.
It seemed as if I were lifted completely out of myself and set down far out in the middle of nowhere, on a hillside in the midst of a sandy, barren plain. Suddenly, I heard a voide. I dropped to my knees, for it was the voice of God himself! He told me who he was, and why I had
been sent into the world.
The Messiah was to come! In fact, he told me, the Messiah was already near! I was actually going to see him! Indeed, I was to prepare the way, to alert the people to be ready and watching for his advent. All of this happened to me in that dream. You can understand why this is one experience that I'll never forget.
Now my problem was this: how was I - a solitary hermit, unfit and untrained - how was I to perform this great task? How could I prepare the way for the Deliverer, the Savior of our people? After all, the desert was all that I knew. My natural tendency was to withdraw from society. How could I possibly be the one to do this? I felt unworthy - like Moses, like Ezekiel, like Elijah - but, inwardly, there was a compulsion that I had to obey.
And so I began, trying to do it the best way I knew - the only way I knew - by simply telling people. I told my friends at the Qumran community. I knew small groups of shepherds in the wilderness, and I talked with them. As the nomads and the Bedouins wandered by, I met with their leaders and with their families. When caravans passed close by, I would walk beside the travelers and begin to speak.
I was amazed and surprised at the results. My reputation spread. Soon crowds began to gather - coming from the neighboring villages, even from the Holy City itself - to listen to me preach. Throngs of people would sit around, just waiting for me to begin to speak. Honestly, it had to be the power of God; it couldn't have been me. I had no eloquence; I simply said what was in my heart. It was the only thing I knew to do - I couldn't have been any different than I was. There had to be something more than what I was saying, because all I did was to repeat to these people what God had told me: that the kingdom of heaven was at hand ... that the Messiah was going to come ... that now was the time to repent and live like children of God's family ought to live.
It was quite natural, I suppose, since I was so familiar with them, that I often used the words of Isaiah in my preaching: "Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low; and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain. And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed."
The response to my message was so astonishing that I wasn't sure if it was all a dream ... or real. I wasn't sure that it was really happening. Again that thin line between dreams and reality began to fade.
It was remarkable to me that I was so popular, for it almost seemed that I was deliberately courting unpopularity. My preaching was stern and harsh, almost cruel. I pronounced judgment upon all the common sins of mankind, and accused my listeners of all kinds of wickedness. I called them vipers; I called them thieves; I called them liars; I called them hypocrites. I told them that they needed to drop to their knees in repentance and cry out for mercy. Yet, severe and relentless as I was, they listened - and returned for more!
I felt that there ought to be some means of openly indicating that a decision had been made within their hearts. So I called upon the people to come right down into the river Jordan with me and allow me to baptize them as a public sign of their confession of sin. This is where my name originated, for they started to call me John, the Baptizer.
They continued to come. The crowds became larger. I was urged to lead a rebellion, to establish a new government. I was even visited by a committee from the priests in Jerusalem, asking who I was - whether I was the Deliverer himself, or Elijah come back to life, or one of the prophets.
All I could tell them was, "No, no, I'm only a voice! I'm only a voice crying in the wilderness. Who I am doesn't make any difference; I'm not important. There's one coming after me; he's the one who matters! The Messiah is going to come; he's going to be here soon; and now is the time for us to prepare - prepare by making ourselves fit for the coming of the King. We need to be the right kind of people - holy people, righteous, godly people - to live in the kingdom of Heaven."
This was the only message that I had - that the one who was coming after me was so great and so wonderful, so majestic and so powerful, that I wasn't worthy even to stoop down and take off his sandals. "I baptize with water," I told them, "but he will baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire. And it is urgent to prepare yourselves for his coming."
Then yesterday, it happened. He came! He stepped out of the crowd, came up before me, and asked me to baptize him. Instinctively, I realized who he was - there was something about his eyes, something about his face, something about his whole manner. God spoke within my heart and said, "This is he."
I hesitated ... then turning aside, so the crowd could not hear, I whispered, "But you should be the one to baptize me."
He insisted, however; he insisted that he place this stamp of approval upon my ministry; he insisted that he identify himself with the common people. Together we went down into the water, and I baptized him - baptized the Messiah!
As the water settled, a dove appeared out of nowhere, flew down from the sky, and came to rest on his shoulder. There was the rumbling of thunder - although not a cloud was visible in the clear, blue sky - and I heard a voice from heaven distinctly say, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased."
Now my work has been completed; my purpose is fulfilled. The Messiah is here; God's son has come - the Savior of the world, the King of kings, the Lord of lords! He's going to bring a new outlook on everything; he's going to change attitudes, transform hearts, remake the entire world. The kingdom of God is at hand; the Messiah, the Deliverer is here; and we - all of us - need to repent of our sins and learn to live like children of a heavenly kingdom ought to live - in holiness and purity, in justice and righteousness.
Yes, my mission has been accomplished; the way has been prepared. He is now here. But I want always to serve him and obey him, to follow him and be faithful to his cause; I want to live for him as long as God keeps me upon this earth. He must increase; I must decrease. He must increase; we must decrease. My job, and yours - the task of everyone who comes to know the Messiah - is to point people toward this Christ and say, "Behold, the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world."
