Luke 7:36-39
How would you like that for an appellation? "Sinful Woman." Sounds exotic only for the depraved. Mostly it sounds degrading, like you diss yourself and then everyone else disses you more. Nothing but a pile of freshly laid fertilizer. I have a feeling that is exactly what she felt like.
That was her reputation in the town: "a woman who had lived a sinful life." Two thousand years ago the unspoken was the same as it would be today. Funny how we assume that the sinfulness doesn't mean gossip or jealousy or even pride. By looking at the Written Guide He's left us, it is evident God measures sin quite differently than we do, sin being anything that separates us from His love. For us humans there are sins and then there are SINS. And this woman had committed the ones in caps.
To be a sinner of the capital sort, you sins had to involve witchcraft (which didn't seem to be as prevalent in the Gospels), idol-worshipping (something rarely found by then among the Jews), swindling other people's money (tax collectors) or sexual immorality, especially selling your body for sex, apparently the worst sin of all. This woman was a hands-down bet to be in the last category. She'd earned her reputation fair and square. Somehow she'd been so degraded in life that her body meant little more than economic exchange even to her.
Pharisees were the opposite of sinners, at least of the capital sort. And so when one of the Pharisees in a particular town invited Jesus to dinner, Jesus was entering a holy house, a home where you would never find that kind of a woman, of all people.
When That Woman heard that Jesus was having dinner at this particular Pharisee's house, she did a very brazen thing. She bought an alabaster jar of perfume, slipped into the house and started anointing Jesus' feet with that perfume, her tears and her kisses. The custom of the day was to lay down (recline) while eating, which meant your feet were behind you, away from the eating area. So when she came to Jesus' feet, she was behind him -- where Jesus wouldn't necessarily see her approaching, but almost everyone else could.
Guaranteed the minute she entered the house, everyone knew it. An awkward hush would have settled over everyone and all would have looked at the master of the house to see what he would do. The master of the house, avoiding even glancing at such a woman once he recognized her, looked straight at Jesus as if to say, "What have you done, Jesus, allowing this woman to enter my house?"
Sounds strange to us today, having someone washing your feet while you're sitting at the dinner table. But such was the custom of the day. Servants washed the feet of a guest who entered the house, sandled and therefore dusty. So the fact that someone was washing his feet while he was reclining at the dinner table would have been scant attraction, to Jesus or anyone else for that matter. Servants weren't even acknowledged, let alone thanked for such a mundane task.
The Pharisee is not amazed that Jesus doesn't notice someone is washing his feet. The Pharisee is amazed that either a) Jesus doesn't discern who this person is or even worse b) doesn't care. No one properly obsessed with righteousness would have been found lacking 24/7 vigilance to make sure nothing or no one sinful would get anywhere near. Maybe Jesus being a prophet didn't have to keep on the lookout, his spiritual sensors doing the work for him. But those spiritual sensors, if he as a respectable prophet had them, were letting him down now.
The Pharisee didn't want to say so, but he feared the unthinkable, that Jesus didn't care. Did he care that his own righteousness could be so stained, that his own reputation could be so tainted? It was beyond appalling. And everyone except Jesus froze as this woman carried out her dastardly deed. Jesus, meanwhile, carried on as if nothing were out of the ordinary at all. I wonder, just wonder, if that is the same way Jesus acts any time I approach him, too.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
Self-Doubts - Part IV
Luke 7:31-35
Ever get into a discussion with someone in which it felt like no matter what you said, it was the wrong thing? Sounds like political talk radio where they play a game of "gotcha!" Jesus was facing a similarly tough crowd. These folks couldn't be pleased if God Himself came in the flesh.
John, Jesus' cousin, came refusing to eat about everything except flying bugs and they said he was demon-possessed, a lunatic. Jesus came indulging in lavish banquets and wedding feasts and imbibing in who-knows-what-all and hanging out with all kinds of rabble and they called him a glutton, a drunkard and, worst of all, a friend of tax collectors and the rankest of hell-bent losers.
Jesus compared these self-appointed judges with children at play, of something along the lines of "Simon Says" where a leader calls out a command to be followed and everyone else has to do just that or else fall back to the beginning. Or perhaps they are children who cannot agree on what game to play and so they end up taunting each other for lack of common interest.
Here is one group wanting you to dance by the light melody of a flute. Here is another group insisting you cry as they sing out a mournful funeral hymn. Sounds like contemporary wars over worship styles.
Diverse as their styles and even their messages are, both Jesus and John have come as God's messengers. The odd thing about this omnipotent, omnipresent and eternal God we serve is that all too often those who serve Him prefer to force God's followers into very narrow slots, expectations of conformity that supposedly define what a true worshipper of God must look and act like. Jesus deals with these false expectations of God-worshippers elsewhere and frequently. But here he is talking specifically about false expectations concerning God's messengers.
John's ministry has been greatly misunderstood by many of those listening to Jesus on this particular day. Even John himself is not sure of his own ministry. People, like bored kids at play, are so quick to judge and taunt. Jesus replies by challenging them that nothing will satisfy them -- precisely because they are not interested in what God has to say whether through human messengers or, as he says elsewhere, through the angelic kind. They really don't want to understand, so they only accuse.
In other words, John is not the problem. Like when your mother told you that if nothing satisfied you at dinner, it must not be the dinner that was the problem. At least that is what my mother would have said. The problem is the crowd itself for whom nothing can please.
So what IS the message from God? It isn't contained in any single sound-bite, but in the whole counsel of God that comes through true messengers such as John and Jesus. And that message is one of both repentance and celebration all rolled up into one.
"Wisdom," Jesus says, "is proved right by all her children." At first glance, I think maybe the saying means that wisdom is found in all God's children collectively. But then I begin to notice that, while that inclusiveness has been addressed earlier in the implication that messengers as diverse as John and Jesus do really speak for God, that is not the point of this concluding statement.
As the old expression says, "The proof is in the pudding." That which is wise will be proven by what comes as a result. You may not be satisfied with the messenger or the message, but wait and see what comes of it. Not sure about John? Then it is probably too early to say. Just wait and see. If what John said was true, it will prove to be so soon enough.
I don't know about you, but I take comfort in that. It is too easy to look at our own lives and wonder if we missed the mark somewhere, as is the case with John whose self-doubts have started this whole discussion. But the evidence of worthy labor is not short-seasoned like radishes. Rather, as with giant sequoias, confirmation of fruitfulness can be long in coming, especially by the standards of our nanoseconded age.
Ever get into a discussion with someone in which it felt like no matter what you said, it was the wrong thing? Sounds like political talk radio where they play a game of "gotcha!" Jesus was facing a similarly tough crowd. These folks couldn't be pleased if God Himself came in the flesh.
John, Jesus' cousin, came refusing to eat about everything except flying bugs and they said he was demon-possessed, a lunatic. Jesus came indulging in lavish banquets and wedding feasts and imbibing in who-knows-what-all and hanging out with all kinds of rabble and they called him a glutton, a drunkard and, worst of all, a friend of tax collectors and the rankest of hell-bent losers.
Jesus compared these self-appointed judges with children at play, of something along the lines of "Simon Says" where a leader calls out a command to be followed and everyone else has to do just that or else fall back to the beginning. Or perhaps they are children who cannot agree on what game to play and so they end up taunting each other for lack of common interest.
Here is one group wanting you to dance by the light melody of a flute. Here is another group insisting you cry as they sing out a mournful funeral hymn. Sounds like contemporary wars over worship styles.
Diverse as their styles and even their messages are, both Jesus and John have come as God's messengers. The odd thing about this omnipotent, omnipresent and eternal God we serve is that all too often those who serve Him prefer to force God's followers into very narrow slots, expectations of conformity that supposedly define what a true worshipper of God must look and act like. Jesus deals with these false expectations of God-worshippers elsewhere and frequently. But here he is talking specifically about false expectations concerning God's messengers.
John's ministry has been greatly misunderstood by many of those listening to Jesus on this particular day. Even John himself is not sure of his own ministry. People, like bored kids at play, are so quick to judge and taunt. Jesus replies by challenging them that nothing will satisfy them -- precisely because they are not interested in what God has to say whether through human messengers or, as he says elsewhere, through the angelic kind. They really don't want to understand, so they only accuse.
In other words, John is not the problem. Like when your mother told you that if nothing satisfied you at dinner, it must not be the dinner that was the problem. At least that is what my mother would have said. The problem is the crowd itself for whom nothing can please.
So what IS the message from God? It isn't contained in any single sound-bite, but in the whole counsel of God that comes through true messengers such as John and Jesus. And that message is one of both repentance and celebration all rolled up into one.
"Wisdom," Jesus says, "is proved right by all her children." At first glance, I think maybe the saying means that wisdom is found in all God's children collectively. But then I begin to notice that, while that inclusiveness has been addressed earlier in the implication that messengers as diverse as John and Jesus do really speak for God, that is not the point of this concluding statement.
As the old expression says, "The proof is in the pudding." That which is wise will be proven by what comes as a result. You may not be satisfied with the messenger or the message, but wait and see what comes of it. Not sure about John? Then it is probably too early to say. Just wait and see. If what John said was true, it will prove to be so soon enough.
I don't know about you, but I take comfort in that. It is too easy to look at our own lives and wonder if we missed the mark somewhere, as is the case with John whose self-doubts have started this whole discussion. But the evidence of worthy labor is not short-seasoned like radishes. Rather, as with giant sequoias, confirmation of fruitfulness can be long in coming, especially by the standards of our nanoseconded age.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Self-Doubts - Part III
Luke 7:24-30
I read this passage and the first thing that comes to mind is, Why didn't Jesus send THIS message to John the Baptizer? John, in prison and about to die, needs reassurance. He is reeling, wondering if his life is pointless. In answer to John's question, "Are you the One my life has been all about, Jesus?" the answer is to show him all the great things he, Jesus, is doing. What is really in John's mind is, Is he (John) really who he thinks he himself is - a prophet and the Forerunner to the Messiah?
What Jesus doesn't tell John, but instead tells everyone else who is observing the conversation between Jesus and John's friends, is that John is the real thing. You didn't go out in the desert, Jesus tells them, to see some wishy-washy, tell-them-what-they-want-to-hear kind of a guy. Jesus uses a simple metaphor his agrarian listeners understand: John is no weak reed that will bend in whatever wind is blowing. Moreover, John is not dressed up in fine, expensive clothes or indulging in other luxuries -- in other words, he isn't in this for himself.
Jesus affirms to all who will listen that John has indeed been a prophet, one willing to speak God's message plain and openly regardless the outcome. In fact, Jesus adds that John is more than just an ordinary prophet; he is the one that the prophet Malachi had said would come to prepare the way for the Lord. Malachi speaks specifically that this Forerunner-Prophet will prepare the way for the God of Justice, which is exactly what John has been hoping is the case and that Jesus avoids in his answer to John. For it is the message of Justice that John's ministry anticipates.
I wonder why this isn't the answer that Jesus gives John and I realize that John's self-identity has got to be anchored in the reality of Jesus, not in what people think of him (John) as a prophet. I recall years ago David Wilkerson, who had become well-known as an evangelist among New York's down-and-outers, started sounding more and more like a prophet, the result of which was that people began backing away from supporting him. Actually Wilkerson was also acting in the role of a prophet when he went to the down-and-outers others were avoiding, but helping "them" tends to make givers more charitable than saying things like "the end of your lives of comfort is near."
A mentor at that time shared with me an insight he had about evangelists and prophets. Evangelists, he said, are supported by the people who send them out, whereas prophets are taken care of by God himself. I see now that any prophet who depends on his support from people is either going to starve to death or be tempted to modify his message to generate better support.
To his audience, Jesus is quick to affirm that John was very much a prophet -- and no ordinary prophet at that. John is greater than all who have come before him, because he has opened the door onto a very different age, the Age of the Spirit, which Jesus is in the process of ushering in. And yet, in the strange dynamics of this new age, in this kingdom Jesus has come to establish, John -- as great as he is -- is less than the least of those in this new kingdom. Paradoxical and hard to understand until you realize that order and priority and importance in God's reign are all mixed up as far as we humans are concerned. What we think is important is not so to God, and vice versa. The first are last and the last are first, Jesus says elsewhere.
We see this mix-up in the response of the crowd. Luke writes parenthetically that the common people, odious tax collectors even, are affirming Jesus' words about John, because they themselves have been baptized by John -- they who have accepted John's message so they are equally eager to accept Jesus'. But the Pharisees and experts in the law, those who have rejected John, are now totally opposed to Jesus. In fact, Luke writes that these kinds of people, in rejecting the baptism of John and the message of Jesus, are actually rejecting God's purpose for themselves.
John lost his life for speaking truth -- and for the same reason Jesus would eventually lose his. God takes care of the prophets, perhaps, but he doesn't promise them a long and luxurious life -- at least not in the here and now.
I read this passage and the first thing that comes to mind is, Why didn't Jesus send THIS message to John the Baptizer? John, in prison and about to die, needs reassurance. He is reeling, wondering if his life is pointless. In answer to John's question, "Are you the One my life has been all about, Jesus?" the answer is to show him all the great things he, Jesus, is doing. What is really in John's mind is, Is he (John) really who he thinks he himself is - a prophet and the Forerunner to the Messiah?
What Jesus doesn't tell John, but instead tells everyone else who is observing the conversation between Jesus and John's friends, is that John is the real thing. You didn't go out in the desert, Jesus tells them, to see some wishy-washy, tell-them-what-they-want-to-hear kind of a guy. Jesus uses a simple metaphor his agrarian listeners understand: John is no weak reed that will bend in whatever wind is blowing. Moreover, John is not dressed up in fine, expensive clothes or indulging in other luxuries -- in other words, he isn't in this for himself.
Jesus affirms to all who will listen that John has indeed been a prophet, one willing to speak God's message plain and openly regardless the outcome. In fact, Jesus adds that John is more than just an ordinary prophet; he is the one that the prophet Malachi had said would come to prepare the way for the Lord. Malachi speaks specifically that this Forerunner-Prophet will prepare the way for the God of Justice, which is exactly what John has been hoping is the case and that Jesus avoids in his answer to John. For it is the message of Justice that John's ministry anticipates.
I wonder why this isn't the answer that Jesus gives John and I realize that John's self-identity has got to be anchored in the reality of Jesus, not in what people think of him (John) as a prophet. I recall years ago David Wilkerson, who had become well-known as an evangelist among New York's down-and-outers, started sounding more and more like a prophet, the result of which was that people began backing away from supporting him. Actually Wilkerson was also acting in the role of a prophet when he went to the down-and-outers others were avoiding, but helping "them" tends to make givers more charitable than saying things like "the end of your lives of comfort is near."
A mentor at that time shared with me an insight he had about evangelists and prophets. Evangelists, he said, are supported by the people who send them out, whereas prophets are taken care of by God himself. I see now that any prophet who depends on his support from people is either going to starve to death or be tempted to modify his message to generate better support.
To his audience, Jesus is quick to affirm that John was very much a prophet -- and no ordinary prophet at that. John is greater than all who have come before him, because he has opened the door onto a very different age, the Age of the Spirit, which Jesus is in the process of ushering in. And yet, in the strange dynamics of this new age, in this kingdom Jesus has come to establish, John -- as great as he is -- is less than the least of those in this new kingdom. Paradoxical and hard to understand until you realize that order and priority and importance in God's reign are all mixed up as far as we humans are concerned. What we think is important is not so to God, and vice versa. The first are last and the last are first, Jesus says elsewhere.
We see this mix-up in the response of the crowd. Luke writes parenthetically that the common people, odious tax collectors even, are affirming Jesus' words about John, because they themselves have been baptized by John -- they who have accepted John's message so they are equally eager to accept Jesus'. But the Pharisees and experts in the law, those who have rejected John, are now totally opposed to Jesus. In fact, Luke writes that these kinds of people, in rejecting the baptism of John and the message of Jesus, are actually rejecting God's purpose for themselves.
John lost his life for speaking truth -- and for the same reason Jesus would eventually lose his. God takes care of the prophets, perhaps, but he doesn't promise them a long and luxurious life -- at least not in the here and now.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Self-Doubts - Part II
Luke 7:21-23
These two guys come to the famous teacher with tough questions from their boss. They ask these questions and wait for an answer. No answer comes. The teacher goes on with his work, seeming to ignore the inquirers.
A movie scene comes to mind -- "Karate Kid". The boy is pestering his mentor who appears to ignore him, snapping instead with chopsticks at a noisome fly. At last, the mentor replies to the effect of "Shut up, Kid, you're messing up my concentration."
We could never say "shut up" in my home when I was a kid and I could have never imagined Jesus saying "shut up" to anyone, not even the devil. "Shut up" has more than four letters, but it was almost in the same category as course Anglo-Saxonese.
Yet, Jesus does seem to ignore these guys that John the Baptizer has sent over, or so the writer Luke seems to hint. These messengers have found Jesus in one of his healing sprees -- a time when all kinds of people are getting cured, demons are being exorcised, and miracles, like the blind being given sight, are happening. Heady stuff. In the midst of this, they tell Jesus the message John has given them. And instead of replying, Jesus just keeps on doing what he's been doing.
I don't know what was going on in the minds of these two messengers. Agitation that Jesus doesn't do something about John right away? After all, Jesus and John are cousins and didn't John help launch Jesus' ministry? Or maybe they waited with anticipation that in a moment Jesus would do something dramatic, like organize this bunch of well-healed masses to bust John out of evil Herod's dungeon. Most likely they just stood waiting, taking it all in, knowing that regardless of the supernatural events going on around them, they had a job to do and John was depending on them to come back with an answer.
Luke doesn't record how long they waited, but it was long enough to see plenty of miracles and healings and exorcisms. Then and only then does Jesus answer these messengers. "Go back and tell John what you have been seeing and hearing." It is quite a litany: the blind are seeing, the lame are walking, those with leprosy are being cured, the deaf are hearing, and the dead are living. Oh, and the poor are hearing lots of good news.
My inclination would have been to tell Jesus, that's all well and good. But what about John? He's still in prison, isn't he? What are you going to do about John?
Truth be told, nothing. Jesus does nothing about John. And in fact, shortly after this encounter, John is killed. Beheaded. His severed head used as a prop in a royal family drama. So much for John. A lot of good Jesus' miracles and teachings have done him.
Then Jesus adds a line to this "good news" he is sending back to John: "Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me."
That is the message John really needs to hear. John doesn't just need to know if Jesus is the Messiah. John needs to know if Jesus is his Messiah. There's that classic line from "Field of Dreams": "What's in it for me?"
Indeed what is in it for John? What Jesus is saying parallels Jesus' inaugural address recorded in Luke 4:18-19, which is a quote from Isaiah. What is missing now from the Isaiah text is "and the day of vengeance" (61:2). Instead, Herod and other tyrants have their day while the righteous languish in prison.
"John," Jesus seems to be saying, "you haven't seen it all yet. Hang in there and all that you originally expected of me will at last come to pass. Meanwhile, don't stumble on account of what is not happening. Trust your belief in me.
These two guys come to the famous teacher with tough questions from their boss. They ask these questions and wait for an answer. No answer comes. The teacher goes on with his work, seeming to ignore the inquirers.
A movie scene comes to mind -- "Karate Kid". The boy is pestering his mentor who appears to ignore him, snapping instead with chopsticks at a noisome fly. At last, the mentor replies to the effect of "Shut up, Kid, you're messing up my concentration."
We could never say "shut up" in my home when I was a kid and I could have never imagined Jesus saying "shut up" to anyone, not even the devil. "Shut up" has more than four letters, but it was almost in the same category as course Anglo-Saxonese.
Yet, Jesus does seem to ignore these guys that John the Baptizer has sent over, or so the writer Luke seems to hint. These messengers have found Jesus in one of his healing sprees -- a time when all kinds of people are getting cured, demons are being exorcised, and miracles, like the blind being given sight, are happening. Heady stuff. In the midst of this, they tell Jesus the message John has given them. And instead of replying, Jesus just keeps on doing what he's been doing.
I don't know what was going on in the minds of these two messengers. Agitation that Jesus doesn't do something about John right away? After all, Jesus and John are cousins and didn't John help launch Jesus' ministry? Or maybe they waited with anticipation that in a moment Jesus would do something dramatic, like organize this bunch of well-healed masses to bust John out of evil Herod's dungeon. Most likely they just stood waiting, taking it all in, knowing that regardless of the supernatural events going on around them, they had a job to do and John was depending on them to come back with an answer.
Luke doesn't record how long they waited, but it was long enough to see plenty of miracles and healings and exorcisms. Then and only then does Jesus answer these messengers. "Go back and tell John what you have been seeing and hearing." It is quite a litany: the blind are seeing, the lame are walking, those with leprosy are being cured, the deaf are hearing, and the dead are living. Oh, and the poor are hearing lots of good news.
My inclination would have been to tell Jesus, that's all well and good. But what about John? He's still in prison, isn't he? What are you going to do about John?
Truth be told, nothing. Jesus does nothing about John. And in fact, shortly after this encounter, John is killed. Beheaded. His severed head used as a prop in a royal family drama. So much for John. A lot of good Jesus' miracles and teachings have done him.
Then Jesus adds a line to this "good news" he is sending back to John: "Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me."
That is the message John really needs to hear. John doesn't just need to know if Jesus is the Messiah. John needs to know if Jesus is his Messiah. There's that classic line from "Field of Dreams": "What's in it for me?"
Indeed what is in it for John? What Jesus is saying parallels Jesus' inaugural address recorded in Luke 4:18-19, which is a quote from Isaiah. What is missing now from the Isaiah text is "and the day of vengeance" (61:2). Instead, Herod and other tyrants have their day while the righteous languish in prison.
"John," Jesus seems to be saying, "you haven't seen it all yet. Hang in there and all that you originally expected of me will at last come to pass. Meanwhile, don't stumble on account of what is not happening. Trust your belief in me.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Self-Doubts
Luke 7:18-20
You're going "like sixty" and good things are happening -- or at least things are happening, whether they are good or not. You have an ultimate aim in life and you are bound and determined to get there. Then all of a sudden, the world stops spinning and you find your universe falling apart, all the stable things in your life flying off in all directions. Your personal gravitational force has quit functioning. What before you assumed you could hang on to for stability no longer avails itself. You are free-floating, drifting off in a sea of useless flotsam.
That's how John, the one we know as the Baptizer, must have felt. He's doing exactly what he believes God has called him to do -- preach repentance to prince and pauper alike and baptize all willing to repent. Then one day he preaches repentance to the king, happens to be a semi-king named Herod. Tells Herod that he was wrong to take his brother's wife and wrong to do a whole bunch of other things. And for that he lands in prison.
Luke puts it in a classic way. "Herod added this to all the other evil things he had done: He locked John up in prison." (3:20)
So there John sits with nothing to do but think on his mess of a situation. As he sorts it all out, he realizes that his primary purpose in life was to be the forerunner, the announcer of the Messiah. That's what the angel said to his parents before he was born. That's why he lived in the desert all those years and put up with all that he encountered in life, including this wrongful prison sentence. Why, he was even a teetotaler, all because that's what the angel said he needed to do. He gave up a normal life as a young man to fulfill his God-given mission in life. And hadn't he passed the spotlight on to his cousin, Jesus, because he had discerned that Jesus was the Messiah, the one for whom he was to prepare the way? He, John, must step back so that Jesus could step forward into the limelight.
If that is indeed the case, that his role has been simply to prepare the way for the Lord, then all this -- even prison -- is worth it. But left with only his own thoughts to keep him company, John begins to wonder.
One day some of his own disciples manage to get in to see him and they share all that Jesus has been doing - the teachings, the crowds, the miracles. So John sends two of these friends of his to ask Jesus, "Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?"
John just wants to make sure. Of all his responsibilities, by far the most significant was to announce to the world that the Messiah had come. Whatever else happens -- whether he is freed, languishes in prison, or is killed -- as long as he has achieved this most important responsibility, then his life has been worth everything he has been through or is going to go through.
There is only one person who can give him the answer: Jesus himself. He trusts Jesus -- one, because deep down inside he still believes Jesus is the Messiah, and, two, because Jesus is, after all, his cousin. And if by some chance, Jesus is not the Messiah, as John had thought, his cousin will surely not let him down.
Self-doubts are very much a part of every life. And they are particularly to be expected when life turns sour, when the unexpected arises, when our dreams morph into nightmares. Left to our own devises with no external clarification, these internal wrestlings can turn into painful, deadening depression.
What dispels self-doubt is a sense that what we have been or are going through has some higher purpose, especially if that higher purpose is connected with some mission we have already had in life or something new to which we can aspire. John senses that the only person who can clarify these inner wranglings is Jesus himself. Even if the answer he gets is the worst-case scenario (as in, John was totally wrong about Jesus), an awful answer is better than no answer at all.
So John turns to the only one he knows who can answer his own doubts and the only one he knows who will be honest with him, no matter how hard the truth is: Jesus. Even in this darkest hour, John reaches deep inside and finds a whisper of faith to hang on to - and in that whisper, hope is born anew.
You're going "like sixty" and good things are happening -- or at least things are happening, whether they are good or not. You have an ultimate aim in life and you are bound and determined to get there. Then all of a sudden, the world stops spinning and you find your universe falling apart, all the stable things in your life flying off in all directions. Your personal gravitational force has quit functioning. What before you assumed you could hang on to for stability no longer avails itself. You are free-floating, drifting off in a sea of useless flotsam.
That's how John, the one we know as the Baptizer, must have felt. He's doing exactly what he believes God has called him to do -- preach repentance to prince and pauper alike and baptize all willing to repent. Then one day he preaches repentance to the king, happens to be a semi-king named Herod. Tells Herod that he was wrong to take his brother's wife and wrong to do a whole bunch of other things. And for that he lands in prison.
Luke puts it in a classic way. "Herod added this to all the other evil things he had done: He locked John up in prison." (3:20)
So there John sits with nothing to do but think on his mess of a situation. As he sorts it all out, he realizes that his primary purpose in life was to be the forerunner, the announcer of the Messiah. That's what the angel said to his parents before he was born. That's why he lived in the desert all those years and put up with all that he encountered in life, including this wrongful prison sentence. Why, he was even a teetotaler, all because that's what the angel said he needed to do. He gave up a normal life as a young man to fulfill his God-given mission in life. And hadn't he passed the spotlight on to his cousin, Jesus, because he had discerned that Jesus was the Messiah, the one for whom he was to prepare the way? He, John, must step back so that Jesus could step forward into the limelight.
If that is indeed the case, that his role has been simply to prepare the way for the Lord, then all this -- even prison -- is worth it. But left with only his own thoughts to keep him company, John begins to wonder.
One day some of his own disciples manage to get in to see him and they share all that Jesus has been doing - the teachings, the crowds, the miracles. So John sends two of these friends of his to ask Jesus, "Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?"
John just wants to make sure. Of all his responsibilities, by far the most significant was to announce to the world that the Messiah had come. Whatever else happens -- whether he is freed, languishes in prison, or is killed -- as long as he has achieved this most important responsibility, then his life has been worth everything he has been through or is going to go through.
There is only one person who can give him the answer: Jesus himself. He trusts Jesus -- one, because deep down inside he still believes Jesus is the Messiah, and, two, because Jesus is, after all, his cousin. And if by some chance, Jesus is not the Messiah, as John had thought, his cousin will surely not let him down.
Self-doubts are very much a part of every life. And they are particularly to be expected when life turns sour, when the unexpected arises, when our dreams morph into nightmares. Left to our own devises with no external clarification, these internal wrestlings can turn into painful, deadening depression.
What dispels self-doubt is a sense that what we have been or are going through has some higher purpose, especially if that higher purpose is connected with some mission we have already had in life or something new to which we can aspire. John senses that the only person who can clarify these inner wranglings is Jesus himself. Even if the answer he gets is the worst-case scenario (as in, John was totally wrong about Jesus), an awful answer is better than no answer at all.
So John turns to the only one he knows who can answer his own doubts and the only one he knows who will be honest with him, no matter how hard the truth is: Jesus. Even in this darkest hour, John reaches deep inside and finds a whisper of faith to hang on to - and in that whisper, hope is born anew.
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