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Let’s get this thing right before it is too late
Better to be gone but not forgotten than forgotten but not gone.
—The JourneyMan
“What is to be done with this Yohannon?”
“Nothing. He is crazy. People will see that soon enough.”
“Crazy, maybe. But influential, as well. I hear the crowds that flock to him are growing daily.”
“Well, they do say he has a way with words and he is a fiery orator.”
“An orator without a regulator is a danger to society. He will incite people. He has already drawn the ire of the queen because of his verbal attacks on the immoral union of Antipas and her.”
“Well, it is disgusting. Leaving her husband, who is alive and well, to marry his brother because he is a man of consequence. Who can argue Yohannon is wrong?”
“You don’t see us mentioning it in our discourses.”
“We treasure our lives and fortunes too well.”
“I doubt it will end well for the wild man. Let’s wait and see. They always come back to the Synagogue. This distraction is temporary.”
[An imagined discourse between two leaders of the Jewish Sanhedrin regarding the one we know as John the Baptist. Yohannon is transliterated into Latin as “Johannes,” and rendered in English as John.]
Trouble down by the riverside
John was an eccentric but powerful preacher and a pivotal figure in the canon of scripture and the gospel story. He is hailed as “the last of the Old Testament prophets and the first of the New Testament preachers.”
Imagine a rugged wilderness man who looks more like a pioneer than a prophet. His hair and beard are unkempt. He wears a camel hair garment cinched with a leather belt. His diet consists of grasshoppers dipped in honey. (Remember, he isn’t running down to the local market for a jar of honey.) He is called “the voice in the wilderness.” Couple his edgy, unusual lifestyle with his gift for powerful, fiery preaching, and you have the makings of an awakening.
First, people come to the banks of the River Jordan out of curiosity. They return out of conviction. They find themselves confronted with conscience and called to repentance.
One of his topics was immorality, and one of his primary targets was Herod Antipas and his lascivious, gold-digger wife, Herodias. Antipas was annoyed by it. Herodias was furious, incensed. She wanted him to shut up. She wanted to shut him up. Ultimately, she did.
The apple not falling far from the tree, on Herod Antipas’ birthday, her attractive, seductive daughter lewdly danced for the king, who got deeply enough into the wine and was drawn into her seduction with such abandon he promised her whatever we she wanted, which, on behalf of momma, was John the Baptists’ head on a platter that day!
That would not be difficult to accomplish since Antipas had already imprisoned the wild wilderness preacher for disparaging remarks against the crown.
She got her wish, and that was that. The Voice was silenced.
What John said about Jesus
Scripture states that John was the predecessor of Christ, the one sent to get things ready for the One sent.
The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God;
As it is written in the prophets, Behold, I send my messenger before thy face, which shall prepare thy way before thee.
The voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.
John did baptize in the wilderness, and preach the baptism of repentance for the remission of sins. And there went out unto him all the land of Judaea, and they of Jerusalem, and were all baptized of him in the river of Jordan, confessing their sins. And John was clothed with camel’s hair, and with a girdle of a skin about his loins; and he did eat locusts and wild honey; And preached, saying, There cometh one mightier than I after me, the latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy to stoop down and unloose. I indeed have baptized you with water: but he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost.
Mark 1:1-8
Mark tells us, “This is how it began.”
He knew he was writing about a historical phenomenon that would spawn legendary tales of how the story of Jesus and the gospel began, so he set the record straight right off the bat.
I particularly love the powerful, straightforward way the gospel writer John (the brother of James, and disciple of Jesus), put it:
There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all men through him might believe. He was not that Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light.
John 1:67-8
Every time I read “there was a man sent from God whose name was John,” I get goosebumps. Every single time! I have spent my life in and around the Bible and have read this passage more times than I can remember, but all the times I do remember, I know I got the chills. I felt the power.
John was the first prophet/preacher to specifically point out Jesus as the Messiah.
John bare witness of him, and cried, saying, This was he of whom I spake, He that cometh after me is preferred before me: for he was before me.
John 1:15
Also…
And this is the record of John, when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, Who art thou? And he confessed, and denied not; but confessed, I am not the Christ. And they asked him, What then? Art thou Elias? And he saith, I am not. Art thou that prophet? And he answered, No. Then said they unto him, Who art thou? that we may give an answer to them that sent us. What sayest thou of thyself? He said, I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord, as said the prophet Esaias.
And they which were sent were of the Pharisees. And they asked him, and said unto him, Why baptizest thou then, if thou be not that Christ, nor Elias, neither that prophet? John answered them, saying, I baptize with water: but there standeth one among you, whom ye know not; He it is, who coming after me is preferred before me, whose shoe’s latchet I am not worthy to unloose. These things were done in Bethabara beyond Jordan, where John was baptizing.
The next day John seeth Jesus coming unto him, and saith, Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world. This is he of whom I said, After me cometh a man which is preferred before me: for he was before me. And I knew him not: but that he should be made manifest to Israel, therefore am I come baptizing with water. And John bare record, saying, I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it abode upon him. And I knew him not: but he that sent me to baptize with water, the same said unto me, Upon whom thou shalt see the Spirit descending, and remaining on him, the same is he which baptizeth with the Holy Ghost. And I saw, and bare record that this is the Son of God.
John 1:19-28
“I am not the one. Jesus is.”
That was John’s confession.
But he was the one people came to see and hear. He was the topic of discussion among the religious leaders and in the halls of government. If John ministered today, he would be the subject of documentaries and rushed-to-streaming movies, maybe starring Tommy Lee Jones or Gerard Butler. There would be action figures and TikTok recipes for grasshoppers and honey. Might even be a whole Keto subculture based on his diet. Clips of his speeches would show up on your Facebook timeline, and action photos of his rants on your Instagram feed. Trump would likely mention how John was making preaching great again.
John was the one.
Until he wasn’t.
One day, the crowds stopped coming. Word was out that he was a marked man. Soldiers came instead of seekers. He was incarcerated.
At first, this might have fueled all kinds of rumors and speculation.
Some would say, “Aha! I told you he was a flake, a fraud. He is finally getting his comeuppance.”
There might be some demonstrations and people hashtagging “freejohn”.
But menacing soldiers and troubling times would test their resolve. Soon, only a handful of those who genuinely loved him came by to see him anymore, to bring a care package of honey and wild locust, and to bring him up to speed on the news.
What Jesus said about John
He was alone in a cell, left to ponder his life and the cause to which he had given himself. There is evidence he fell into despondency; a psychiatrist might label him clinically depressed.
John is wasting away in a prison cell. Forgotten. Lonely. Discouraged. But word is coming to him that Jesus is on the preaching trail, and the crowds are beginning to gather. Now, he must decide if he did the right thing. The limelight is gone from him and is shining on the very one he introduced to the crowds.
John sent a runner to Jesus to ask Him a pointed question:
After Jesus had finished instructing His twelve disciples, He went on from there to teach and preach in their cities.
Meanwhile John heard in prison about the works of Christ, and he sent his disciples to ask Him, “Are You the One who was to come, or should we look for someone else?”
Matthew 11:2
The beauty is in Jesus’ answer:
Jesus replied, “Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor. Blessed is the one who does not fall away on account of Me.
Matthew 11:4-6
Jesus accommodated John’s doubt with an answer.
“Tell John everything is on track. He did the right thing. Everything he gave his life to is coming to fruition. You tell him thank you and don’t waver.”
(I can hear one of my favorite gospel preachers, the late B.R. Lakin, saying, “Never doubt in the dark what you have believed in the light!”)
Then, here comes the good part. You ready?
As John’s disciples were leaving, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed swaying in the wind? 8Otherwise, what did you go out to see? A man dressed in fine clothes? Look, those who wear fine clothing are found in kings’ palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written:
‘Behold, I will send My messenger ahead of You,
who will prepare Your way before You.’
Truly I tell you, among those born of women there has risen no one greater than John the Baptist.
Matthew 11:7-11
There go those goosebumps again!
I love how another late, great gospel preacher put it: “On the day John said the worst thing he ever said about Jesus, Jesus said the best thing he ever said about John.”
What does that say about old so-and-so?
I was in Mt. Pleasant, Texas, trying to resurrect dry bones and breathe life back into the ministry that had once thrived. I am not talking about the dwindling church I was trying to restore. I am talking about the dried-up bones of my own soul. Soon, there would be a turnaround, but at that moment, I was throwing the morning news into the yards of townsfolk and farmers and trying to find my way back from the brink. To say money was tight is an understatement.
Every morning, on a busy street corner in Mt. Pleasant, an old black man with snow-white hair and an impressive matching beard held a Bible in one hand and punched holes in the atmosphere with the index finger of his other. He was preaching to passersby. He did not ask for money or anything else. He simply rode his bicycle to that street corner from whatever he called home and spent a couple of hours preaching.
I was broke. I didn’t have much to give and less to lose, but I did have twenty bucks, so I pulled over and got out. I interrupted his sermon and asked if I could give a love offering. He gratefully accepted. He told me his name was Preacher John and he was a widower. He and his late wife had served various churches in the Piney Woods of East Texas for more than 40 years. This was his last pulpit.
I have often wondered about Preacher John and how that must have felt, to be left behind and alone, forgotten but not gone.
The evangelist I mentioned earlier, Vance Havner, I heard preach when he was 80, just four years before his death. His wife was already gone, and though his sermon was bedecked with jewels and rich in treasures, it carried a hint of sadness in it.
The sermon was titled, Home Before Dark. He shared his journey. He began preaching when he was just 12 years old, which made me sit up and feel less like a weirdo, since I was younger than that the first time I stood on a chair behind a pulpit and addressed a crowd of sinners. He talked about his home in the Appalachians and his father, who always encouraged him and was there at the train station to greet him whenever he came home from a long tour of preaching.
He said his dad would always ask him, “How’d you get along?”
He was looking forward to that greeting again soon from his long-deceased father.
The octogenarian said lately, his prayer had become, “Lord, when it is my time, let me not linger, a workless worker in a world of work.”
Some do linger. So many live out the last inglorious years of their lives wasting away in a nursing home, or staring out a window, hoping a family member or friend might stop by their lonely abode to spend a moment or two.
One of my earliest experiences as a preacher came when I was 12-13 years old. My uncle, four years my senior and also a preacher, and another friend, and I would go on Sunday afternoon to two nursing homes to hold services and take turns preaching to the residents.
We gathered them from their rooms, pushing some in wheelchairs, wheeling oxygen tanks for others, assembling them, and then singing hymns and preaching to them. One of the old men was always asking me to speak up, and when I did, a woman held her ears and complained it was too loud.
But I remember one lady especially because she thought I was her grandson, come from Mingus, Texas, to see her. I didn’t know anything to do but to let her think it and visit with her.
You see an old man or woman, frail, whose light has all but gone out. They have become a burden, and wouldn’t it just be better if they were gone?
What fools we have become in a society that celebrates youth and despises age. Rather than sit at the feet and glean from the wisdom of those who have been where we are headed, we say, “OK, Boomer.”
Fools.
They may have forgotten more than we will ever know. So, let’s take what they remember while we can. Let’s celebrate their lives. They are us. Don’t you see that? Don’t you get it? They are us!
You go tell old John the world may forget you, but I won’t. You tell him for me that I know what it cost him to be what he was and do what he did. I know I am standing on the platform he built. You tell John thank you, and don’t stop believing. It all mattered. It still does.
