John 1:6-8, 19-28
Today, John the Baptist testifies to the One coming after him. John prepares the way for the light. John points not to himself but to the One whose sandal he is unworthy to untie. John testifies to and prepares the way for and points to Jesus. John gathers followers, not because John wants people to follow him but rather because he, by divine insight, knows who Jesus is, what Jesus will do, what Jesus’ life and death and resurrection will mean. John is compelled to testify and prepare the way and point to Jesus because he knows the depth of the good news—and wants to share it. John is the first and chief witness of Jesus. He is the primordial godparent who brings their godchild to the baptismal font, the grandparent who takes their grandchild to church, the parent who teaches their child to pray, the neighbor who helps out in times of trouble, the church member who quietly goes about doing good.
As the first and chief witness of Jesus, we are indebted to John’s testimony. But there are many who have testified since then. Our question of the day is: Who pointed you to Jesus, either in word or deed? To find our community’s reflection, go to the live stream worship feed from Sunday, December 13.
In thinking about those who pointed me to Jesus, I think not of those who are particularly righteous or particularly religious. Instead, I think of those who know their lives are not just about them, who know the world does not revolve around them, who see that they are part of something larger than just themselves and their family. So, I give thanks to God for the ways my parents pointed me to Jesus, how we as a family prioritized first not our own pursuits but the pursuit of the common good. I think of my confirmation mentor, Pam, who, despite having four of her own children, a husband, and a full time job, spent time with me reading scripture, discussing life, and co-teaching Sunday school with me. I think of my high school principal, Mr. Moerke, also our National Honor Society mentor and a member of the local Roman Catholic parish, who fashioned our National Honor Society to be a community service organization, teenagers serving the larger community.
In the story of the first and chief witness of Jesus, notice that John the Baptist is asked to identify himself. Those sent by the religious leaders ask him: Are you the messiah? No. Are you Elijah? No. Are you the prophet? No. Who are you? What do you say about yourself? Nothing. Even after this hard-court press, John only identifies himself as the one meant to prepare the way of the Lord, one unworthy to untie the thong of Jesus’ sandals. John’s testimony is only about Jesus, not about him, not about his greatness, not about his insight, not about his work. Similarly, to witness to God and the work of God, for us, is not in any way about us.
Notice also that we receive no detailed account of John’s success, no report on his number of converts, no list of his devoted followers. There is no statistical analysis of the impact of John’s witness. The gospel does not tell stories of lives changed by John’s foray into the wilderness, save one, Jesus’. John just goes and does what he is called by God to do. Similarly, to witness to God and the work of God is not to convince anyone else of any particular belief about God. Rather, for us to witness to God and the work of God is to see what God is doing and join in. We serve others. We seek justice. We work for peace. We love each person God puts in our path. We listen. We help when and where we can. We live with joy and hope. We don’t follow Jesus perfectly, and we don’t flatter ourselves. We are not God. But by the grace of God, sometimes our hands and feet and voices do the work of God, and in the ways our hands and feet and voices do the work of God, we point to Jesus. It’s not about us, but we get to participate. And in participating, we witness.
As Lutherans, we don’t talk much about that word “witness.” In spiritual contexts, the word “witness” has often meant “talking about God,” and this is something we often don’t feel qualified to do. I have heard people say: What do I know? I’m not a pastor. I myself have said: What do I know? I am only a pastor. But consider how, in a courtroom, witnesses tell a story about the situation at hand. They remember what happened on a particular day, at a particular time. Witnesses share who was where and when and why. Because we value truth in a courtroom in a way unparalleled, witnesses are not only free to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. They are required to do so. In the ideal world of our justice system, the witness does not weave a story to convince or manipulate the jury. Instead, the witness simply tells the truth, and if it moves the jury, well and good.
This is what it is to witness to God. We tell the story of our lives, and as people of faith, that means we tell a story of God at work in our lives and the life of the world—in whatever words make the most sense to us. We look around this world, and where we see suffering and injustice, we also see love and generosity and people who care. And not only do we tell the story, we join the story. We join in what God is doing. We love and serve, work for justice and peace. We hold onto hope and faith. We tell the truth and live the truth we know in Christ.
If the story of John the Baptist’s testimony feels short on gospel and long on law, if we feel pressured to be witnesses, the sweetest news of this story lies in its center: that we witness only because there is truly good news to share!
I remember being 16 years old and standing in my pew at the front of the sanctuary with the green hymnal in my hand singing the opening hymn in my home congregation in Pelican Rapids, Minnesota. Surrounded my whole life by people who had pointed me to Jesus, I suddenly got it: what others had been saying and showing me all that time, all 16 years of my life. I saw God working in my life and the life of the world. I saw that my life wasn’t just about me but about something, someone larger than myself. And I couldn’t believe that the 400 Lutherans standing behind me singing from the green hymnal that morning could just stand there and sing, not passionately enough for my teenage taste given the enormity of God’s good news. What good news it is: the true light which enlightens everyone was coming into the world. Jesus is coming. Thanks be to God! Amen.