John the Baptizer
The welcome rain fell softly in the desert. Spattering on the dry ground, the drops fell faster and faster until they became a refreshing shower. John stood completely still in the downpour, eyes closed, face lifted to heaven. He slowly raised his sunbaked arms and gave thanks. He laughed out of pure pleasure and joy.
John the Baptizer was a priest’s son, and yet not a priest. Filled with the Holy Spirit from his mother’s womb, he had learned the Torah as a boy like all Jewish boys. He understood each analogy and word picture. He was steeped in prophecy. Much of the Torah was seared into his memory and held closely in his heart. That’s why, when he saw Jesus coming to the Jordan River, he proclaimed, “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” Because he knew.
He understood that animal sacrifices could not remove sin. Only cover it over until the One came. And now He was here. They were cousins, John and Jesus. Six months apart in age. But they were vastly different. John was a prophet – and Jesus was, well, God in the flesh.
John’s home was the wilderness, where his most intensive training took place. His love for God was total, his commitment to his mission was complete, and his obedience unwavering. His life was his ministry. He was the forerunner of the Messiah. “Make straight the way for the King.”
The prison was dank and cold and dark. He shivered in his cell and his empty stomach protested again.
He could still remember the moment when he saw Jesus walking toward him, asking to be baptized. Baptized? Jesus? But, yes, that’s what he wanted and John couldn’t refuse, even though he wasn’t worthy to loosen the straps of Jesus’ sandals.
All the long months and years of preparation for his mission. Living alone in the desert. Just God and John. Then he got his walking papers. It’s time – go out and preach repentance of sin and return to God. Get the people’s hearts ready to hear the Good News of salvation. Get them to a place where their hearts are open and ready to receive the words to be spoken by the Messiah.
So he did.
John drew his robe more closely around himself, trying to stave off the shivering. He could hear the rats skittering across the dirt floor, always looking for crumbs. He longed for the sun and the refreshing desert rain again.
Casting back in his mind, trying to bring back the comfort of his wilderness home, he could still see the bright blue sky that seemed to go on for forever. Its intensity hurt his eyes, but he loved to look at it anyway. And the feel of the sun on his skin and the smell of the heat on his arms.
The mountains changing their colors as the sun slid down the horizon. The cooling breeze that would rise, kissing away the sting of the noon-day heat.
The heat-lightning jumping from cloud to cloud. The swirling dust-devils made by the wind as it worked itself into a fury of movement and sound. And the brave blooming flowers, fading and dying so soon from the intense rays of the hot sun.
John remembered his desert. John remembered his mountains. He knew every stone, every scrub tree, every cave, every bird and lizard by heart. How he longed to see them one last time!
John could hear the guards whispering together nearby. He wondered what they were up to now.
John could still feel the slight sting of the kicked up sand against his legs as he walked through his desert. His leg muscles straining as he climbed, and his lungs, how they would burn from the exertion of scaling the sides of the rock faces he lived among.
And the River Jordan. Cool and beautiful and green. The people coming to be baptized. John’s joy so full.
And then Jesus showed up. And John baptized him, the Spirit descended, and God spoke from heaven. John’s life, at that very moment, was complete.
How long would they keep him here locked up in this place? He wanted to get back to his ministry.
Locked up for speaking the truth. Locked up for speaking the truth to a very powerful man who didn’t want to hear the truth. A powerful man who wanted to continue in his sin without worrying about any repercussions.
But John had to speak. Truth is truth, and no matter what the consequences he must shout it – from the housetops if need be. He had no regrets. Well, maybe one. He would have loved to die in his desert, surrounded by the sun and the sky with his beloved mountains keeping watch.
But even here, in this prison cell, he was not alone. He and God were close friends, and his conversations with his Heavenly Father transported him far beyond this filthy place, so that, even here, he was content to wait.
There isn’t a whole lot said about John the Baptizer in the scriptures. He came, he performed his duty, he died an ignominious death.
But Jesus said there was no man born of woman greater than John. So why did he die like he did? It seemed like such a needless death, done out of spite. Why didn’t Jesus do something about it?
John himself, if you recall, hinted at the reason – “He (Jesus) must increase, and I must decrease.” John’s work at paving the way was done. It was Jesus’ turn to take the stage.
Our human eyes can only see this world clearly. Our human hearts can only understand what we’ve experienced here. Our human time stops when our hearts stop. But God’s time is from eternity and He dwells in our world and His simultaneously. Our departure from here is like one of those refreshing drops of rain falling from the sky. This world, once our last duty is discharged for our King, has no meaning or hold on us anymore.
We have already become other-worldly. We have already arrived at our true home. We’re just waiting for that final heartbeat to still, so we can be fully there. What happens here – how our life ultimately ends – doesn’t diminish our joy and reception into His kingdom.
The release of our souls to return to our Creator is what’s important. Not the how.
Can you imagine the huge party thrown in John’s honor when he arrived in heaven? I’m absolutely certain these are the words he heard the Father speak:
“Well done, good and faithful servant!”
May we dispatch our duties with the same singleness of heart, purpose, and love as John the Baptizer.
