On becoming a star--It's in your job description--Just ask John the Baptist

 

Advent 2023

 

“A man named John was sent from God.
He came for testimony, to testify to the light,
so that all might believe through him. 
He was not the light, but came to testify to the light.”
–John 1: 6-8

 

 

Sitting on my front porch, reading the Gospel of John, I was struck by this familiar verse. I heard something new this morning hat I had not heard before: a job description!  This is John the Baptist’s job description.  His job was to testify to the light.  To tell the world what he knew to be true, so that all might believe. Very simple, very straightforward; no complex language about quotas or expectations, no official title, no qualifications, no list of duties—and no terms of severance.  Just the simple and straightforward, open-ended call to testify to the light, with the goal that “all” might believe.

 

Basically John’s job was to be a Burma-Shave sign (a Buc-ees sign for you youngsters out there). He was called to be a road sign pointing the way to The Light. That’s it.  And it occurred to me that his job description doesn’t just apply to John the Baptist.  Doesn’t it actually apply to all of us? Isn’t that the job description of every Christian? We are all called to be a testimony to the Light—to the love of God, to the saving grace of Christ. How we do it isn’t described, isn’t spelled out. Some people may do it through words, others through fasting and prayers, and still others through lives of sacrifice and service.  But the plain truth is we are all called to testify to the light—to live as a sign for others, that they might believe.

 

For most of us, our testimony may go unseen by the vast majority of the world around us.  Our testimony is one of patience and kindness to a stranger: standing in line at the pharmacy, we smile and speak a gentle word to the young mother struggling with her fussing child, or we speak a word of encouragement and cheer to the UPS delivery guy putting packages at our door. Maybe your testimony is to get up at 3 in the morning and walk with a crying baby so that your spouse can sleep. Maybe your testimony is not just to give a $20 bill to the homeless person asking for money, but to also ask his or her name, and to give them your name. Maybe even shake hands and let them know that you will pray for them.  Let them know they are seen, they matter.  

 

For so many of us, our testimony will never make it into a book or even be remembered much beyond the moment, but it will be a testimony, and it will plant a seed, and it may be that when we are all gathered together into that Light, into the Kingdom we call Heaven—you will be greeted by someone you don’t remember, but they will remember you, and that one little act of kindness that lit a spark in their soul... that testimony of love.

 

There is one more thing this little passage reminds me of, especially at Christmas time. And that is a certain star. We see it on so many Christmas cards, but do we ever ponder what it means? It is shining there, above a stable, above a manger, showing us the way.  For the wise-men, that star was a kind of testimony, a road sign, guiding them on their journey.  But even with all its splendor and glory, it wasn’t the actual goal, it was just a sign—a flashing neon testimony to something far greater: a homeless, cold, and exhausted child sleeping in a manger. As we unwrap presents and prepare our holiday tables, let us remember that; the true gift of Christmas is God come to us in the form of a helpless child. Remembering that, pondering it, living it... it will give your life a radiance that will shine for others. It may not get you mentioned at the next Academy Awards or Music Awards, but it can definitely make you a star.  Just ask John the Baptist.

Toiling in vain --just like John the Baptist?

“Though I thought I had toiled in vain

and for nothing, senselessly, spent

my strength, yet my reward is with

the Lord, my recompense with my God.”

--Isaiah 49: 4

 

Listen to this message.  One of our greatest voices, one of the most important prophetic figures in scripture; and he feared his work, his life, had been in vain.  Is this not the proper response to anyone who feels their life has gone unnoticed?  Most of us, I imagine, looking back on our lives see missed opportunities, unfulfilled promise; years of unrecognized effort, uncelebrated worth.  Who hasn’t felt the fear and the pain and the neglect envisioned in the first half of this verse? We had promise, we had opportunities, and amounted to nothing.  We toiled in vain, spent our strength uselessly and our lives have gone without note or success; our dreams and our promise unrealized.  Or we feel unseen; no one seems to care (or notice) that we exist.

Today we celebrate the nativity of John the Baptist, a man who on most any earthly scale would be deemed a failure; someone who “toiled in vain.” He goes out to the wilderness and lives like a homeless man, becomes something of a public spectacle with his ranting against sin, then goes too far and is arrested and put to death due to a party game gone awry.  And if it wasn’t for this other guy (his cousin) whose earthly ministry also ends kind of badly, we probably wouldn’t even remember John.  He would have faded into history; just another forgotten misfit with dreams and promise who lived and died without notice by the Caesars of the world. At best, an annoying mosquito to be swatted away and forgotten.

I know people who never seem to receive their moment of glory.  I’ve worked in universities and schools almost all of my adult life and witnessed time and again how some people repeatedly are singled out for praise (often very deserved) while others (also very deserving) year after year go unnoticed. I’m thinking of a particularly dedicated teacher I know who shows up every day, works long hours, loves and nurtures her students, yet when it comes time to single out people for hard work or extra praise, she is never mentioned; never singled out; apparently never noticed, while the same English teachers or Science teachers or Math teachers are honored and praised time and again.  Is it because the one teacher constantly goes beyond, exceeds expectations and the other simply doesn’t have that extra skill or talent or charm?  Possibly.  But that doesn’t change the fact that a capable and dedicated teacher might feel exactly as Isaiah does in this passage.  That she/he has toiled in vain, uselessly spent her life’s energy doing work that goes unnoticed and unappreciated.  Yet, what Isaiah is also saying is: Don’t look to earthly honors and awards as the measure of your real worth. 

Today, as we remember the nativity of John the Baptist, we are called to remember that our reward, our true worth isn’t found in the praise of Caesar or by the number of “likes” we get or the number of times we are singled out for praise, but in the Lord; our recompense is with God; our true worth is measured not in man’s eyes, but in God’s glory.  We are His servant, and we must remember we are working for His glory. Not our own.

A couple of weeks back we had the Gospel in which Jesus said that a house divided against itself cannot stand (Mk 3:25).  I hear reverberations of that great truth here as well. Perhaps that is why this reading from Isaiah spoke to me so profoundly.  What I hear in Isaiah is a message about division of the heart.  I hear an echo of a division that rears its ugly head inside me most every day.  When I am writing a poem or working on my novel –if I am in the zone, so to speak-- I write single mindedly. The words, the story, the image, the work itself is all I care about. But, when I am distracted, or things aren’t coming easily I will begin to doubt myself and question myself –I will second guess.  And often when I hear of some young author who just published a first book to great acclaim, I will grow a little sour with envy as I recall my drawer full of rejection slips.  I begin to doubt my worth, to suspect my efforts have been in vain, my strength senselessly spent, because instead of doing my work the best I can, for the glory of God, I’m doing it for myself; for my glory, my rewards, my recompense, and in my selfishness, I am becoming a house divided against itself.  I’m seeking not what is my true reward but something like a shadow of it. In fact, by seeking an earthly reward I am serving Caesar; but as the prophet tells us, we were made for God and our true glory comes from serving Him. 

If fact, whether we are called on stage to be honored or we toil in humble anonymity isn’t really our concern.  We are not servants of the Academy or of the Nobel Prize Committee or even of the NY Times (or the Whitehouse), we are servants of God. Our work is done not to bring us glory, but God.  There are teachers I know who become legends (at least for a time) and others who retire and are quickly forgotten, but the key to being a successful servant of God isn’t found in earthly acclaim.  In fact, the important work we do for God may be found as much in our anonymity as in our efforts. As Mother Teresa said, “We are not called to be successful, we are called to be faithful.” Or as John the Baptist said:

“What do you suppose that I am? I am not he.

No, but behold, after me one is coming, the sandals

of whose feet I am not worthy to untie.” (Acts 13:25)

The work we do isn’t about us; it’s about Him.  And the reward, the recompense, isn’t found in certificates or trophies or acclaim, it’s found in being a faithful servant.  Don't be divided; be true, faithful, united in purpose with the One who created you. Grow where you are planted, bear fruit where and when you can, and leave the rest to God.  Do your best, not for praise or honor or glory (or a raise) but because you are serving God. We must remember that any work done for God’s glory is never in vain. 

Plus, if you want to contemplate the value of earthly success, consider when was the last time you heard anyone talk about the movie: Cavalcade (1933).  Academy award for best picture and a money maker for Fox Studios.  But… 

The Second Sunday of Advent: Hastening the day of God (2 Peter 3:12)

“In the desert prepare the way of the LORD!
Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God!
Every valley shall be filled in,
every mountain and hill shall be made low;
the rugged land shall be made a plain,
the rough country, a broad valley.
Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed…”

--Isaiah 40:1-5

            In last Sunday's reading from 2nd Peter, the apostle tells us that because we do not know the hour or day the Lord will come, we should be living “a life of holiness and devotion, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God.”  And writing some 600+ years earlier the prophet Isaiah gives us a sense of how we might do that.  He tells us to make a straight path, to clear the way and build a highway for our God.  And the evangelist Mark, even cites this passage from Isaiah as he introduces his life of Jesus by directing our attention to the humble voice of one crying in the wilderness, aka John the Baptist. 

            As a boy, when I would hear this reading, I would often think of how glorious it would be to go out into the wilderness and dress in camel’s hair and feed on locusts and honey.  And I always thought: if we are serious about our faith, this is how we really make straight the way of the Lord. This is how we build a super-highway for God in the wasteland!  Like John, we need to give up all earthly possession, wander out into the wilderness and begin crying out: Prepare the way of the Lord!  In my childhood reverie, the clouds would part and the music would swell and Julie Andrews would look down from the Alps and start running the other direction! But it would be glorious with glistening sand and shimmering rocks and a picturesque body of water always nearby.  I even imagined a kind of vast cinemascope scene; half George Stevens and half a Hal B. Wallis remake of Godspell!  I also often wondered what would happen if thousands (maybe tens of thousands) of people suddenly gave up their daily lives and professions and obligations and wandered off in search of God! Sometimes I would sigh --What a day that would be! And other times I would gasp and ponder: what a day that would be… Half Cecil B. DeMille and half George Romero, perhaps…

            And yet, as I meditate upon these readings now I am struck (in old age) by a couple of smaller things.  First, the call of John isn’t to disappear into the wilderness. He isn’t calling the people of Jerusalem to abandon their lives and become hermits with him in the desert. He is calling them to repent.  To acknowledge their sins, and repent!  That seems to be the path he proposes for them, the highway he helps them construct.  And it makes me wonder about that highway.  I had always heard this as a highway we were building so we could travel it –so we could get to God.  But that doesn’t seem to be what Isaiah is saying.  Isaiah seems to be saying that we are making a “highway for our God,” not for us. That God will travel this highway to get to us.  And that leads me to the second thing I keep going back to: those valleys that we are to fill in and those mountains that we are to make low.  What does that mean to me?  In my youth of course it was a grand earth moving project from the WPA. Lots of explosions and collapsing piles of rocks and steam shovels and bulldozers and Mike Mulligan –all that.

            But now I hear these words and immediately think of idols and emptiness. The mountains make me think of the mountains I make out of my sin. I make false idols from my sin and they become so important to me, that I build “holy mountains” for them to sit on.  And for me sometimes it seems like there are so many of these holy mountains: one for my pride, one for my righteous indignation, one for my gossiping tongue, one for my sensuality, one for my laziness and an especially high one made entirely out of potato chips with a large bowl of onion dip and a six-pack of root-beer on the top! There are times when I look out across the wasteland and see so many of these mountains I feel lost.  And beside each mountain is a vast valley of emptiness and longing out of which I have shoveled and dug the dirt and the rock and the delusions and denials for the mountains I’m building –even still.  The valleys are the emptiness inside me. The longing for success, and for happiness and for peace.  And they just grow vaster and vaster as I shovel more out of them to make new mountains to what the ancient Hebrews would have called my “personal gods.”

            But the prophet says: fill in those valleys, make low those mountains.  The Lord is coming. Get rid of those mountains you have made. Let go of the pride you have taken in their construction. Tear them down and fill in those valleys that make you feel so empty.  That is how you will build your highway for our God.  Tear down your mountains, and fill your valleys and that is when God’s highway will appear.  And what is one of the best ways to tear down our mountain? Repentance. Confession. Don’t cling to your sins, confess them. Those mountains will begin to crumble. And then, make time for prayer, for scripture, for adoration or meditation, and you will feel those valleys begin to fill.  Remember, this highway isn’t for God. God doesn’t need it. No, it’s for us. We need a highway for our God, because we need to make it easier for us to receive Him. The wasteland is within us. It is in our misguided, broken and anxious hearts.  Isn’t that where we find these valleys of loneliness and emptiness? Isn’t that where we really build these mountains for our sins?  So, open your heart. Tear down the mountains and fill the valleys. God is coming. Prepare the way –Hasten His coming! Not for His sake. No, my dear friend, not for His sake, but for your own. The highway is for us. It makes it easier for us to receive the grace that God is trying to give us every day, every moment of every day.  Open your heart. Let it become an 18-lane superhighway (if you can). Receive the triumphal convoy of 18 wheelers filled with grace! And Mercy and Forgiveness and Love. God is coming. Repent. Change your ways. Straighten out your path, because you don’t want to wander off and miss this.