The Forerunner
Sermon
You'd have thought, if anybody knew Jesus was the promised Messiah, it would have been John the Baptist, the designated herald, the preparer of the way. Surely from the time he was a small boy, he must have known Jesus was the Promised One. Surely from early childhood, his mother Elizabeth would have regaled him over and over again with the tale of her cousin Mary. That famous time when Mary rushed over to tell Elizabeth she'd been visited by God's foremost messenger, the angel Gabriel himself. And when Elizabeth heard that, we're told her own unborn baby, John, leapt for joy in his mother's womb.
And remember when John was baptising Andrew and his friend in the river Jordan? John suddenly spotted Jesus in the distance and said: "There is the Lamb of God. The reason why I came, baptising in water, was that he might be revealed to Israel." (John 1:29,35)
And later, when Jesus himself came to John for baptism, John was reluctant to baptise Jesus. According to Matthew's account, John tried to dissuade Jesus. But as soon as he had baptised him, he saw God's spirit descend upon Jesus in the form of a dove, and heard a voice from heaven saying: "This is my beloved Son." (Matt. 3:13-17) There can't have been many religious experiences more powerful than that.
So it seems odd, that after so many spiritual experiences centred around the person of Jesus, in today's reading John seems very uncertain whether or not he should identify Jesus as the Messiah. John still isn't sure whether he's interpreted those powerful religious moments correctly. He sends some of his friends to Jesus to say: "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to expect some other?"
John was, of course, a trail-blazer. He preached religion in a new way. He proclaimed the expected Messiah was imminent, would appear at any time. John's task was to soften up the audience, to make them receptive to the Messiah when he appeared.
But life is tough for trail-blazers, for pioneers. In whatever field, those who have the courage to blaze a trail can expect a rough time. Galileo who proclaimed the sun, not the earth, as the centre of the solar system. William Wilberforce denouncing slavery. Elizabeth Fry reforming prisons. The Suffragettes claiming votes for women. In the early stages of new and radical thought all pioneers suffer for their beliefs. Those who prepare the way for others coming later, nearly always stand alone. And they're nearly always ridiculed, despised, dismissed, and sometimes, tortured and thrown into prison. Or even killed.
It's difficult to sustain belief in yourself, faith in your particular cause, when you're despised and hated for your beliefs. John was suffering. He was in prison where life must have been extremely harsh and his spirits were evidently at a very low ebb. So he sent his friends to the one person who could support him, to the one person who could allay his fears, to say: "Are you the one?"
But he didn't get a straight answer. Jesus refused to reassure him. Refused to say: "Yes, of course I'm the promised Messiah. You know I am." Instead he sent John's disciples back with what sounded remarkably like a rebuke. "Go and remind John what I'm doing," he says. "The blind recover their sight, the lame walk, the deaf hear." And so on. And then he adds: "Happy is the man who doesn't find me a stumbling block."
Poor old John. Not, I suspect, the message he wanted to hear. His own ministry had ended abruptly and terrifyingly. He'd stood up for what he believed in. He'd blazed the trail. And in so doing, he'd got a bit too political. He'd said very publicly what he thought of Herod's behaviour with his sister-in-law, Herodias. So not surprisingly, John had found himself arrested and thrown into prison, with no prospect even of a trial, let alone release.
And for why? He thought he'd been preparing the way. Making the path straight for the coming Messiah. Fulfilling the scriptures. Obeying God. But now, frightened and alone and in some dreadful pit of a jail, he wasn't so sure. Suddenly it had all gone wrong. It wasn't supposed to end like this, facing a horrible death at a very early age. Supposing he'd given up his entire life for a terrible mistake?
After all, John's style of ministry was very different from Jesus's style. John preached fiery judgement. "Repent! The kingdom of heaven is at hand." And when some of the Pharisees and Saducees came to him for baptism: "You viper's brood! Who warned you to escape from the wrath that is to come?" John was all for for a bit of righteous vengeance. And expected the satisfaction of seeing some just punishment meted out by the new Messiah to those who deserved it.
But Jesus wasn't militant. He didn't fulfil any of the classic expectations of how a messiah should be. He didn't storm in with fire and judgement. He came with peace and love and forgiveness. He wasn't a bit like John thought he should be. So could he be the Messiah, or should they expect another?
And so John, frustrated and frightened and lonely in his prison cell, begs for reassurance. But Jesus refuses to alleviate his misery. Refuses to reassure him. Refuses to pat him on the head and take away his pain. Instead of doing it for him, Jesus forces John to make his own decision, to face himself and his own doubts, even at this time of great suffering for John.
And it seems to me, this continues to happen. I've noticed, when things are bad for me, I'm sometimes unable to feel any sense at all of God's presence. I feel frightened and uncertain and frustrated and very much alone, and I say to God: "Please! Just give me some sign so I know you're there." And the response is may be nothing but a vast emptiness and a huge silence.
God refuses to be manipulated by me, just as Jesus refused to be manipulated by John. I'm forced to face my own doubts, to sort out my own problems. I'm forced either to take God on faith, to assume and to hope he's there, even when I have no sense of his presence. Or to acknowledge unbelief and to face all the consequences of that in my life. Just as John was forced either to hold onto his faith in Jesus as the Messiah, or to face the consequences of unbelief.
We may be children of God, but we're children who have come of age. God treats us as adults. He doesn't spoon-feed us. He doesn't do for us what we can do for ourselves, because that would create the wrong kind of dependency on him. It would create a childish dependency in which we'd be unable to grow.
But he is there to point the way. Jesus pointed the way for John. "Remind John," he said, "about the things he's seen and heard. Let him weigh up the facts. Let him remember and reflect and consider. And then he can reach a reasoned judgement. And he'll reach that judgement in his own way, and for himself."
Because, when we work things out for ourselves, through the pain and the difficulty and the distress, then we grow. When we manage to hang onto faith even at our lowest ebb, then we discover through his apparent absence, God was actually pointing the way.
And remember when John was baptising Andrew and his friend in the river Jordan? John suddenly spotted Jesus in the distance and said: "There is the Lamb of God. The reason why I came, baptising in water, was that he might be revealed to Israel." (John 1:29,35)
And later, when Jesus himself came to John for baptism, John was reluctant to baptise Jesus. According to Matthew's account, John tried to dissuade Jesus. But as soon as he had baptised him, he saw God's spirit descend upon Jesus in the form of a dove, and heard a voice from heaven saying: "This is my beloved Son." (Matt. 3:13-17) There can't have been many religious experiences more powerful than that.
So it seems odd, that after so many spiritual experiences centred around the person of Jesus, in today's reading John seems very uncertain whether or not he should identify Jesus as the Messiah. John still isn't sure whether he's interpreted those powerful religious moments correctly. He sends some of his friends to Jesus to say: "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to expect some other?"
John was, of course, a trail-blazer. He preached religion in a new way. He proclaimed the expected Messiah was imminent, would appear at any time. John's task was to soften up the audience, to make them receptive to the Messiah when he appeared.
But life is tough for trail-blazers, for pioneers. In whatever field, those who have the courage to blaze a trail can expect a rough time. Galileo who proclaimed the sun, not the earth, as the centre of the solar system. William Wilberforce denouncing slavery. Elizabeth Fry reforming prisons. The Suffragettes claiming votes for women. In the early stages of new and radical thought all pioneers suffer for their beliefs. Those who prepare the way for others coming later, nearly always stand alone. And they're nearly always ridiculed, despised, dismissed, and sometimes, tortured and thrown into prison. Or even killed.
It's difficult to sustain belief in yourself, faith in your particular cause, when you're despised and hated for your beliefs. John was suffering. He was in prison where life must have been extremely harsh and his spirits were evidently at a very low ebb. So he sent his friends to the one person who could support him, to the one person who could allay his fears, to say: "Are you the one?"
But he didn't get a straight answer. Jesus refused to reassure him. Refused to say: "Yes, of course I'm the promised Messiah. You know I am." Instead he sent John's disciples back with what sounded remarkably like a rebuke. "Go and remind John what I'm doing," he says. "The blind recover their sight, the lame walk, the deaf hear." And so on. And then he adds: "Happy is the man who doesn't find me a stumbling block."
Poor old John. Not, I suspect, the message he wanted to hear. His own ministry had ended abruptly and terrifyingly. He'd stood up for what he believed in. He'd blazed the trail. And in so doing, he'd got a bit too political. He'd said very publicly what he thought of Herod's behaviour with his sister-in-law, Herodias. So not surprisingly, John had found himself arrested and thrown into prison, with no prospect even of a trial, let alone release.
And for why? He thought he'd been preparing the way. Making the path straight for the coming Messiah. Fulfilling the scriptures. Obeying God. But now, frightened and alone and in some dreadful pit of a jail, he wasn't so sure. Suddenly it had all gone wrong. It wasn't supposed to end like this, facing a horrible death at a very early age. Supposing he'd given up his entire life for a terrible mistake?
After all, John's style of ministry was very different from Jesus's style. John preached fiery judgement. "Repent! The kingdom of heaven is at hand." And when some of the Pharisees and Saducees came to him for baptism: "You viper's brood! Who warned you to escape from the wrath that is to come?" John was all for for a bit of righteous vengeance. And expected the satisfaction of seeing some just punishment meted out by the new Messiah to those who deserved it.
But Jesus wasn't militant. He didn't fulfil any of the classic expectations of how a messiah should be. He didn't storm in with fire and judgement. He came with peace and love and forgiveness. He wasn't a bit like John thought he should be. So could he be the Messiah, or should they expect another?
And so John, frustrated and frightened and lonely in his prison cell, begs for reassurance. But Jesus refuses to alleviate his misery. Refuses to reassure him. Refuses to pat him on the head and take away his pain. Instead of doing it for him, Jesus forces John to make his own decision, to face himself and his own doubts, even at this time of great suffering for John.
And it seems to me, this continues to happen. I've noticed, when things are bad for me, I'm sometimes unable to feel any sense at all of God's presence. I feel frightened and uncertain and frustrated and very much alone, and I say to God: "Please! Just give me some sign so I know you're there." And the response is may be nothing but a vast emptiness and a huge silence.
God refuses to be manipulated by me, just as Jesus refused to be manipulated by John. I'm forced to face my own doubts, to sort out my own problems. I'm forced either to take God on faith, to assume and to hope he's there, even when I have no sense of his presence. Or to acknowledge unbelief and to face all the consequences of that in my life. Just as John was forced either to hold onto his faith in Jesus as the Messiah, or to face the consequences of unbelief.
We may be children of God, but we're children who have come of age. God treats us as adults. He doesn't spoon-feed us. He doesn't do for us what we can do for ourselves, because that would create the wrong kind of dependency on him. It would create a childish dependency in which we'd be unable to grow.
But he is there to point the way. Jesus pointed the way for John. "Remind John," he said, "about the things he's seen and heard. Let him weigh up the facts. Let him remember and reflect and consider. And then he can reach a reasoned judgement. And he'll reach that judgement in his own way, and for himself."
Because, when we work things out for ourselves, through the pain and the difficulty and the distress, then we grow. When we manage to hang onto faith even at our lowest ebb, then we discover through his apparent absence, God was actually pointing the way.
