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Are You The One?-Matthew 11:2-15

By Charlie Vensel | June 13, 2008

Our Gospel passage this morning has always puzzled me. The story is pretty simple; John the Baptist sends some of his followers to talk to Jesus, to ask him if he is really the Messiah they have been waiting for, or if they should keep looking. Rather than getting into a bunch of theological jargon, which God’s Son could do better than any preacher if he had chosen to, Jesus simply tells them to look around at what they see going on and decide for themselves. What they see is amazing; the blind are receiving sight, people who haven’t walked in years are playing Ring-Around-the-Rosie, untouchable lepers are hugging and kissing their children, deaf people are standing over there swapping stories, some caskets are lying open over next to a big rock and the contents are up walking around, and the poor are hearing a sermon that makes them smile. It is straight out of the book of Isaiah, our OT reading this morning. This Jesus most definitely is the Messiah!

The rest of the passage tells about some comments Jesus made about John, pointing out just how special a role he had played in the unfolding drama. That’s the story. So what is my problem? I have always wondered why John had to send his followers to ask Jesus who he was. Wasn’t it only a few months ago that the two of them met by the river and the Baptist got all excited and announced, “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29 NIV) Why is it that he has to send these guys now? Wasn’t he sure anymore, or what? I always had those questions until this week.

But, after the week I have had, I now see a possible explanation for John’s question. Maybe he forgot. Maybe he did recognize Jesus at his baptism, and now, a few months later, he just forgot in his distress. You have to wonder, however, what could make a man forget that Jesus was the Christ. That seems pretty unforgettable, yet it happens all the time if we think about it.

Perhaps a story will help…Shelly was a new Christian. She had just gone through a conversion experience that totally changed her life. As a part of her new life she wanted to become active in the church. She was running on high speed, and had high hopes. She was going to save the world, or at least the part of it she could reach. She watched her language. She pronounced “Jesus” with six syllables, and made sure to use the words “blessed” or “anointed” at least once in every sentence. She started attending Bible studies and promptly made everyone there uncomfortable, but she meant well. No one could blame her for her enthusiasm, because she had just recognized who Jesus was, and everyone could remember how that felt.

Then Shelly came to a church board meeting and she bowed her head during the opening prayer, and then studied the minutes of the previous meeting like they were the Holy Scriptures. She listened intently to the various committee reports, and nodded as though she understood it all.

Then came Phil. Everyone knew what happened when Phil opened his mouth, you just never knew what the topic would be. Everyone knew except Shelly. Tonight the topic was the new church budget. Phil started out on the money being wasted on those expensive children’s bulletins, “that don’t do anything anyway,” and ended up reminding everyone of how different it was back when Pastor Frank was there. Everyone grinned at each other. “There goes Phil again. He’ll get tired in a minute and wind down.” Everyone but Shelly that is; she was amazed. This was the “church?” The bubble had been burst, and the air fizzled out all over the room.

That was the night Shelly began to wonder who Jesus was again. This wasn’t what she expected from a Messiah, so maybe she had been mistaken. Maybe Jesus was a “good man,” and still worth believing in, but not really a Savior. But John the Baptist was no newcomer to the movement, and neither was Glen.

Glen had been a figurehead in the church and community for 65 years. There were few in town that had not, at some point in their lives, been touched and strengthened by Glen. He was a Christian’s Christian, and was admired and praised. His living room wall was covered with plaques and certificates from charitable service organizations, and even one from the governor. Glen seemed to know full well whom Jesus was, and sought to serve him, then he became ill.

Glen was nearly 90 years old and had not been sick more than a few hours of those 90 years. Then the doctor mentioned cancer. At first Glen nodded and said that after 90 good years he had no complaints, but as days passed he grew quiet, the smile left his face, and the love left his eyes. He worried constantly, and complained just a bit more than that. “I’ve tried to do good,” Glen said one morning, “but I just don’t see why God would do this to me. This isn’t what I expected at all. Maybe I’ve been wasting my time.” After traveling alongside Jesus for nearly 90 years, Glen was now having second thoughts about whom this Jesus really was.

He expected better treatment from a Messiah. Most of us do, don’t we? We get this comforting idea that if we follow the Messiah life will somehow be smoother, or at least all fit together in some “good” way. Then we run smack into the reality that the only guarantee Jesus made to us had to do with the activities that come after this life, in the life to come. In fact, Jesus very clearly expected that his followers would have a harder time getting through this life than those who walked away. But we still have these expectations of a “Savior” and when Jesus doesn’t meet them we begin to wonder if he is really who he says he is.

There are thousands of empty church pews that used to be full of people who believed in Jesus Christ. But then he didn’t live up to their expectations and they went home. Their families still fought, they still had some frightening decisions to make, their loved ones got sick and died, and they still couldn’t make ends meet on a budget. They began to wonder if they had made a mistake with Jesus.

I suspect that’s what happened to John. He said that he had come to baptize with water, and that the one following him would baptize with “fire from heaven” (Matt 3:11). So where was the fire? So far there wasn’t even smoke. So far, the Pharisees and Sadducees were still in charge of the Faith, and Rome was still in charge of the government. In fact, instead of bringing in the kingdom, Jesus had kept pretty quiet up north while John got himself arrested and thrown into one of Herod’s dungeons on a mountaintop down by the Dead Sea. That might make a person ask some questions. Is this any way for a Messiah to behave?

At least I hope that’s what happened with John. If John the Baptist, as high up as he ranked, still had some questions, maybe there is room for us. I dare say that this feeling is universal, be we new in the Faith, or if like Glen, we have walked 90 years. Pastors are not immune either.

The last two weeks have been the most challenging I have faced in quite some time. Scheduled days off have been filled with pastoral emergencies. I’ve been coordinating my admittance into Denver Seminary this spring. Frances and I were trying to finalize everything for her to make her permanent trip here to join us. Though packages are arriving at our house almost daily, all of our Christmas shopping remains undone. I’ve been working hard to finish the church budget proposal for 2008 and meeting with realtors regarding our relocation. I was preparing for the most important exam of my life thus far and in the most critical time leading up to it, I get called to do a vigil, funeral, and committal for a family that I have never met. I led that funeral service ever yesterday, my first one, and I am glad that I do not really know this family; the homily stunk, the service was awkward, and I was as nervous as I could be.

On the day I was to take my exam for the priesthood, Thursday, it arrived several hours late and I still have to finish on tomorrow. My wife had to drive through a snowstorm to get here. My children are being dropped off at this house and that house so that I could be all the different places I have needed to be. Our home in Florida has not sold. My wife has not yet found a job here and, I’m learning how to drive in the snow with a 2 wheel, rear drive car.

All of this is taking place in the middle of Advent, when I just wrote in the December newsletter, about how important it is to slow down during this time; how important it is to focus on the reason for the season. I’m struck by my own hypocrisy. I’m thinking to myself, “Lord, we have been obedient and come to the place you clearly called us and things are chaotic right now. What happened to your blessing obedience? Why all of this chaos? What about this burden being light thing? Why are my prayers for relief falling on deaf ears? Frankly, Lord, I expect more out of my Savior!”

Shelly said it. Glen said it. I said it, and thank God, John the Baptist said it, “Lord, are you the one who is going to make all of this right? Are you really all that you say you are, because I’m struggling to see it?” Do any of you feel like asking that?

If you do, then you are human. Is it right? No. But it is understandable and forgivable. The message addressed to John the Baptist ends with the words, “Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me.” (Matthew 11:6 NIV) In other words, blessed is the one who does not allow anything I say or do to lure him into sin, to cause him to lose faith.

Verse six is no doubt a rebuke to John, but it is a tender rebuke, one that did not in any respect overshadow his love for his temporarily confused disciple. In fact, this rebuke also contains a blessing, “Blessed is…” The Lord treats John as tenderly as he did the blind, the woman caught in adultery, Peter, and Doubting Thomas. It is the tenderness of Jesus that stands out here for one of his own. In the paragraph taken as a whole, the Master is saying that it is wrong to condemn a person on the basis of one deviation of doubt, especially in a time of great difficulty.

Let us not make the same mistake as some of the people in the crowd. They were thinking that John was fickle, perhaps even a hypocrite. Jesus turns to the crowd in verse 7 to straighten them out. In essence, he is telling them that in order to form a true opinion about this man, his entire life, past as well as present, must be taken into consideration. In the case of John, that past had been magnificent. John was more like a sturdy oak, than a trembling reed, and Jesus goes on to honor him through the rest of our passage.

What can we take from this, if on this day, we have temporarily become confused? It is very easy, when we are struggling, to hear only Jesus’ rebuke. If we are not careful, we can beat ourselves up, and really do a number on ourselves. We can listen to Jesus’ crowd rather than Jesus’ words. We can miss repentance and go straight into despair; the Devil would love that. We must recognize that our temporary confusion is just that, temporary.

If most of us stopped with our temporary self-pity long enough to look back over our lives, we would remember that we have weathered many ups and downs throughout our Christian walks, and for the most part, we, like John, have been strong in faith and deed. The times we have asked God the very hard questions like, “Are you really who you say you are,” have been few and far between.

When we have asked that question, we do need to repent. But we must remember when it comes to repentance, we always do far better if for every one look we take at our sin, to take ten looks at the mercy of our Savior. I’m sure John the Baptist repented when the message got back to him, but I can almost guarantee you that he was praising God, that he was dancing in his chains at who Jesus was. No, the Lord is not looking to snuff out his own, but to raise them up, to have them sing his praises. He prunes his trees; he does not aim to make them firewood for the furnaces of hell.

What does the Lord think of his own? Well, after pouring out praise on John the Baptist, Jesus says, “I tell you the truth: Among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist; yet he who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.” (Matthew 11:10-11 NIV) Brothers and sisters, that’s you and me. The King bestows that level of honor upon us, and “…neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:39 NIV) We may think all kinds horrible things about ourselves when we doubt, and repent we should, but the Lord still looks at us as his own, more than you and I can ever grasp. Let that be what we dwell on.

The psalmists were famous for asking the questions, “when, why, how, how much longer…”, and about the time they started to realize that they were on dangerous ground, they begin to recall that God’s greatness, that they are his children, and then these types of psalms almost always end praise. That is the model we are to follow, one look at our sin, ten looks at God’s greatness, and we cannot help but move on, and do so in praise.

So that is how we move beyond our having asked, “Lord, are you who you say you are”, but what is it that causes us to ask that question. You know, in most every one of my sermons, I have mentioned somewhere that we live in the time of “already, but not yet,” or I have spoken of “things not being the way they ought to be,” or of “the distance between what is, and what ought to be.” It is very fitting for Advent, but I’ve mentioned it so much that I’m now trying to figure out ways to avoid it in my sermons. But, here again I can’t. It seems as if it is one of those themes that we cannot ever hear enough. We wrestle with doubt precisely because things are not the way they are supposed to be. The kingdom of God has only started, not finished; it will not be finished until the Lord returns. That forever frustrates us this side of heaven. We are an impatient lot.

Most of us have witnessed a miracle at some point in our lives. Most of us have had prayers answered immediately. Most of us have seen God’s hand move rapidly to radically change events before our very eyes. These are all parts of fervent prayer and we are right to pray for such things. But most of us also know that this level of visible and tangible response from God is not the norm. Most of the time, the Lord responds to our prayers by letting us go through the less than desirable circumstances; he changes us through them, rather than the circumstances themselves.

That change is growth, and more often than not, it is a painful process born in the trenches of difficulty, but a necessary process. We are challenged and called to move out of our comfort zones. Here, several verses come to mind: When Paul prayed for the thorn in the flesh to be removed, the Lord responded, “My grace is sufficient.” And, when pondering life’s trials, Paul wrote in Romans, “We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:17-28 NIV) Joseph said to his brothers, “you meant it for evil, but the Lord used it for good.” Barnabas preached, “We must go through many hardships to enter the kingdom of God,” (Acts 14:22 NIV). Lastly, the psalmist writes,” Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy.” (Psalms 126:5 NIV)

Does anyone remember the movie, The Karate Kidd? Ralph Macchio plays a young hot shot who has convinced an elderly master to teach him the martial arts. Ralph shows up at Mr. Miaggi’s house to get his first lesson, but Mr. Miaggi puts him to work instead. Ralph paints Mr. Miaggi’s house, washes and waxes his collection of automobiles, and does a number of other very repetitive household chores. Ralph is very frustrated; he just wants to start learning the moves; he’s ready to learn all this expert knows. For weeks this hard labor continues and still no lesson. He has blisters, cuts, aches and pains, and Mr. Miaggi’s place is looking great, but Ralph hasn’t learned a thing, at least he thought. He finally confronts Mr. Miaggi, demanding his lesson, pleading his case. Mr. Miaggi responds with, show me “wax on-wax off”, show me “paint up-paint down”. What Ralph did not know, was that the whole time he was laboring, he was learning the essential forms and movements of the style of marital arts Mr. Miaggi was teaching him. He had become prepared without even knowing it, and he became prepared by going through the hard work.

It is very much the same way with us. God uses our sufferings to teach us what it is that we need to learn, and often we do not even know what we are learning until after the fact. There are no shortcuts to genuine holiness. Peter writes, “Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.” (1Peter 4:12-13 NIV) It seems that when we are tempted to ask if the Lord is who he says he is, we should be entering praise instead. Rather than complaining in our struggles, we should be thanking God that he is giving us an opportunity to grow. We should be thanking God that he is changing us into the image of his Son. Easier said than done, I know, but it is what the Scriptures would teach us.

What might the times of difficulty produce in us? Well, I cannot answer for you, but I’ll share some of my lessons. Perhaps these will give you some clues to the lessons you are to be learning. First, I’m a perfectionist. When things are not going perfectly, when I’m not handling things perfectly, when I’m struggling, I have before me an opportunity to learn a lesson I continue to be taught: I’m not in control, I cannot do this in my own strength, I’m seeking the approval of men rather than God, I’m getting my validation by being good at what I do, rather than as seeing myself as an adopted child of God. Basically, it is an idolatry problem. Are there any perfectionists out there failing to live up to your own expectations, failing to realize your own limitations, failing to see God as God and yourself as a creature? For perfectionists, God uses difficulty to humble us, drop us to our knees, to lay down our independence, and trust in him alone. It is always a very hard lesson.

I’m fairly independent. I like to do things on my own. I like to be in control. Such times of difficulty make me realize my humanity. They make me realize I cannot do everything and do everything well all the time. They make me realize that I need help. They force me to trust others, to count on others, to need others. That is part of the reason the church exists, is it not? We are the Body and we bear one another’s burdens (Gal 6:2). We are not meant to be islands unto ourselves, but part of the Body. Turning to others forces me into community; it forces me to be more of a part of the Church. It forces me to be dependent on others. It forces me to not just minister to others, but to be ministered to.

Times of difficulty force me to live in reality. The world is hurting. Sometimes I hurt. But suffering in these ways help me to keep things in perspective. Having false expectations is only frustrating. This kind of difficulty breeds compassion for our fellow human beings. It forces me to tell them of the hope in Christ now, and in the hope to come. It forces me to listen to their pain. Having walked through difficulty myself, I’m able to do a lot more than just tell people to “grow up and get over it,” though sometimes that is a fitting response. It forces me to listen. It forces me to care. It forces me to be a better minister.

Times of difficulty teach me patience. I’m the kind of guy who stands in front of the microwave while my popcorn is popping, shakes my fist, and shouts, “Come on! Hurry up!” Patience is one of the fruits of the Spirit, and indeed a virtue. Learning to wait and learning to walk through things produces more of a godly and grateful character. Why would I not want that?

Times of difficulty teach me that I’m not my most important person. Sometimes, my suffering has appeared to have no reason. God is free to add to my burden to make others’ light. I may never know it, but as his servant, God is free to do that to me. He is free to do that to you as well, as a Christian. We are a people who all too often think it is all about us, but we fail to recognize that it is not.

What is the Lord trying to teach you in your difficulty right now?

“Lord, are you who you say you are?” The answer is, “yes!” It always has been “yes” and always will be “yes”. Brothers and sisters, I have struggled with how to end this sermon and have come up with a loss. I will forgo any formal closing, but why don’t we end in prayer over these things? I’ll start us off, and if any of you want to add something out loud, please feel free.

Let us pray…Amen

Topics: Advent, Matthew |

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