 Are You the One?
Luke 7:18-35
Rev. Eric LandryHave you ever felt like you were at the end
of your rope and God was nowhere in sight? That feeling of
desperation, confusion, and doubt is common to nearly everyone
who is serious about their spirituality. One of the difficulties
of such an experience is that the church is often the last place
you feel comfortable exposing yourself: your sin, your
weaknesses, and your doubts. Yes, I said “your doubts.” All too
often, both Christians as well as those who do not yet follow
Jesus think that doubt is somehow foreign to the Christian frame
of mind. Unfortunately, Christians tend to foster that sort of
thinking when we come off as having all of the right answers to
every difficult question that confronts us.
If you’re here tonight and you’re interested in Jesus, but not
too sure about his followers, I want to let you in on a little
secret. We’re not nearly as certain as we let on. In fact, the
more certain we sound is generally a good measure of the
intensity of our doubt. Beneath our pat answers is raw fear. Do
we have all the answers about parenting? We probably lay awake
at night worrying that we’re turning into our parents. Do our
marriages seem indestructible? We can't remember the last time
we had a meaningful conversation with our spouse. Do we have all
the answers about the evils of our culture? We’re probably
terrified that someone somewhere knows about our own sin. Do we
sound like we have this God thing all wrapped up? Deep down we
are plagued by a fear that this is a hoax and we have been the
butt of a cosmic joke.
But you would never know it, would you, from our false
sincerity, our too-easy smile, and our over-eager efforts to
assure you that everything is just fine. Doubt is taboo among
most Christians because to doubt is to reveal your own
insecurities about the God you worship. To reveal insecurities
is weak. It puts us in a position of powerlessness and if you
haven’t noticed, many Christians are fond of power,
unfortunately.
Frankly we’re scared to reveal our doubts: We can’t reveal them
to our friends, because it would be too embarrassing to admit
that we don’t always believe what we sing. Nor can we reveal our
doubts to those we come into contact with who do not yet believe
in Jesus. How can we convince you of Christianity, if we doubt?
How can we lead you into a relationship with God, if we admit
our fear?
The Scene
This sermon about doubt tells a story of two cousins: Jesus and
John. John was older by six months. He played a major role in
society, but not the sort one might expect. He wasn’t a
politician or a rich man. He didn’t party with kings. He was a
preacher, but he didn’t fit the “traditional religious leader”
mold. He castigated the religious authorities in his sermons. He
was a radical, a societal outcast. He spent most of his time in
the desert. Large crowds from Jerusalem followed him into the
desert to hear him preach, but the message he gave them wasn’t
the sort that drew large crowds. He told them that judgment was
coming; he said that now was the time to repent of sin; he told
them that they should be baptized as a sign of their repentance.
He was calling the crowds of the capital city of Israel to a
radical new way of living.
John, being a radical and a societal outcast, could also look
into society and point out very directly what was wrong. He did
this quite often, but one day he did it once too often and he
pointed out the sins of the king. Only very brave or foolhardy
men point out the sins of kings. But John was neither brave nor
foolhardy; he was being faithful to his role: a messenger of God
who would pave the way for the Messiah. The king was shacking up
with his brother’s wife. He didn’t even pretend to question the
meaning of “is.” But all the good citizens of Jerusalem didn’t
say a word. Only John spoke up and his speaking up, challenging
the king, and calling him to repentance cost him his freedom.
Just a few short months later, it would also cost him his head.
So, John—the radical, the revolutionary, the preacher, the
messenger of God, the forerunner of the Messiah—was in prison
and there he sat. And as he sat, the doubts began to creep in
and the questions began to form and the fear set in.
Some eighty miles away in the northern part of Israel, his
cousin, Jesus, was riding a wave of popularity. John had
baptized Jesus only a few months earlier. Now Jesus was
traveling the countryside, preaching, healing, even raising the
dead. But he was staying in El Cajon and Lakeside, even in Murrieta. He hadn’t yet made it to San Diego, to Jerusalem. He was
staying in the country and the crowds were finding him there.
Among the crowds were some of John’s followers. They were
watching what Jesus did and listening to what he said and
bringing regular reports about this man to John in prison. And
the reports did nothing to ease John’s doubt.
John probably remembered back to the days when the people
surrounded him and the voices from the crowd would shout out to
him, “Are you the Messiah? Are you the one sent by God to usher
in his kingdom? Will you save us from the tyranny of our
oppressors?” John knew that he wasn’t the Messiah; that wasn’t
his role. But he knew what he was expecting: he was expecting
someone who would bring a fiery baptism, a harvester who would
take the chaff of evil, wickedness, tyranny, and oppression and
burn it in the unquenchable fire of his judgment. John knew that
such a person was coming and that he was of a different class.
This Messiah who would come, this one sent from God to usher in
his kingdom of mercy and justice, was someone to whom John would
not compare himself. John told the crowds that he was unworthy
even to untie the Messiah’s shoes.
The Question
And that really was the problem. John was expecting the
Terminator and he got Gandhi instead. He was expecting the
Messiah who would usher in a new age of God’s rule over God’s
people, throwing off the shackles of Israel’s oppressors, and
renewing in the people a whole-hearted obedience to God’s law.
But instead he got a teacher, a miracle worker, and frankly,
what seemed like a country bumpkin. Jesus didn’t meet John’s
expectations. A good friend is fond of telling me that unmet
expectations are the root of most problems. Unmet expectations
lead to frustration. For John, that frustration manifested
itself in doubt.
John summoned two of his followers to his prison cell (the Bible
calls the followers of leaders like John and Jesus “disciples”)
and told them to ask Jesus a question. This had to have been the
most difficult question John had ever formulated. It called into
question his entire life’s work. It made everything he believed
in, hoped for, and longed for subject to failure and ridicule.
At the heart of his question was everything he believed about
God, himself, and his work. John was all-in: “are you the One
who was to come, or should we expect someone else?”
John had all sorts of reasons to expect that Jesus was the
Messiah: he had been a witness to the testimony of God at Jesus’
baptism just those few months earlier. But, now, he’s in a
situation where he needs to be reassured that Jesus is the
Messiah—the one that was to come and who was to bring that fiery
judgment and deliver his people. Jesus wasn’t measuring up to
John’s expectations and John is asking Jesus to prove himself.
Just like Satan asked Jesus to prove himself in the wilderness.
And just like the crowds who will demand a sign of him. And just
like Jesus’ very own disciples. Even like Pilate. Everyone wants
Jesus to measure up to what they expected the Messiah to be and
to do.
What was the attitude of John’s disciples, I wonder? How did
they approach Jesus? Were they bold, pushing their way to the
front of the crowd and demanding an answer? Or were they timid,
fearing an answer? Whatever their attitude, they caught Jesus in
the middle of a normal workday. The Bible tells us that at the
“very time” they came to ask the question Jesus was curing those
who were ill, casting out evil spirits, and giving sight to the
blind. You almost get the sense that there is a long line in
front of Jesus, people bringing their worst cases to him, until
finally these two men get to the front of the line. But they
don’t have a sick friend, they don’t have an evil spirit, they
aren’t blind. They just have a question.
“Are you the One who was to come, or should we expect someone
else?”
The Answer
Even the way the question is formed leads me to think that John
wasn’t quite sure what he would do with the answer! If Jesus was
the One, then why wasn’t he doing the things the Messiah should do?
If he wasn’t the One, if John should expect someone else…that
answer is almost too terrible to even contemplate.
John is looking for a straight answer. His question can be
answered with a simple yes or no. But of course Jesus doesn’t
answer John in the way he expected. It seems as if Jesus’ answer
is ambiguous, at best. “Go back and tell John what you have seen
and heard.” No, Jesus! We need a simple answer: are you or
aren’t you? To be or not to be? Play straight with us, Jesus. A
man’s life is on the line; the hopes of an entire nation are at
risk!
“Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: The
blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are
cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is
preached to the poor. Blessed is the man who does not fall away
on account of me.”
Jesus doesn’t answer John the way I would. See, I probably would
have answered with “Give me a break, John! Can’t you see what’s
going on here? I’ve got my hands full with misfits and outcasts
of every kind. There must be something wrong with you! Your
doubt is a sign of weakness. Straighten up, brother, and start
evangelizing the prison.” Worse, I might come up with three
steps for overcoming doubt and sent the messengers back with a
helpful guide for conquering doubt. The foolishness of such an
approach is only apparent to me now that I have wrestled with
some of my own doubts. I have come to appreciate John’s doubts
and Jesus’ answer because I know what it is to question.
The Response
Christian, do John’s doubts surprise you? If they do, I would
dare suggest that you have never really encountered Jesus
before. Oh sure, you’ve heard of Jesus; you might even believe
in Jesus. But it’s a Jesus of your own making. John’s doubts are
a stumbling block to you rather than a source of comfort. They
reveal weakness and insecurity; they might even shine a light on
your own doubts that you’ve been trying very hard to suppress in
order to be a “good” and “faithful” Christian.
Non-Christian, do John’s doubts surprise you? If you’re surprised
that one so close to Jesus could still doubt him, then the
people who are close to Jesus in your life aren’t telling you
the truth about their own fears and struggles.
Maybe like John, many of us here find ourselves in dire
straights this morning and we need Jesus to rescue us. Perhaps
you have been hurt and wounded by others and you need Jesus to
be a righteous judge on your behalf. Maybe you’re just
bewildered by the complexities of life: job, family, big
decisions and you need Jesus to give you wisdom. But the problem
is, Jesus hasn’t yet shown himself to be that kind of savior for
you. So here you sit, wondering if he is the One, all the while
knowing that to even ask the question is to reveal your deepest
insecurities.
What are you looking for this morning? What sort of Jesus do you
think you need? Are you willing to hear Jesus’ answer? For John,
that answer wasn’t quite what he was expecting. Jesus used words
first spoken 800 years before by the prophet Isaiah to reassure
John that indeed, he was the One. The passage from Isaiah 35
describes a paradise when God’s rule is fully manifested. It is
a description of the end of time, what the Bible calls the “eschaton”:
when God’s deliverance is a realized event, not something that
is just hoped for at some point in the future. The miracles that
Isaiah prophesies and that Luke records as history point out
that this special time has arrived, the people of Israel are
already beginning to enjoy the benefits of this eschaton, even
though it is not yet fully realized. Jesus tells John to remember
the picture: The healings in Isaiah pointed us to the messianic
age, the great figure of which is the Messiah. If the age is
present, so is the Messiah.
“Yes, John, I am the Messiah, I am the Coming One, and I am
doing the work that the Messiah must do. But your expectations
are wrong and you need to look at things differently, despite
your circumstances which understandably demand some action from
God.”
Isn’t that what our everyday experience of faith often is? We’re
faced with situations in which we expect God to act a certain
way, but he doesn’t. God has not failed; our expectations need
to be redefined. Jesus even points this out as he talks to the
crowd after John’s disciples leave. He says,
To what, then, can I compare the people of this generation? What
are they like? They are like children sitting in the marketplace
and calling out to each other:
We played the flute for you and you did not dance;
We sang a dirge, and you did not cry.
For John the Baptist came neither eating bread nor drinking
wine, and you say “He has a demon.” The Son of Man came eating
and drinking, and you say, “He is a glutton and a drunkard, a
friend of tax collectors and sinners.” But wisdom is proved
right by all her children.
(Luke 7:31-35)
The crowds that surrounded John and Jesus had expectations and
their expectations were never satisfied. They didn’t like the
fact that John was a radical. They didn’t like the fact that
Jesus was a friend to the outcasts. They didn’t like the fact
that John held to a strict religious diet. They didn’t like the
fact that Jesus enjoyed good food and wine.
But Jesus is in the business of redefining our expectations and
the most important thing that he does, he says, is preach good
news to the poor. Remember his answer to John: “The blind
receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured,
the deaf hear, the dead are raised…” Then, he gets to the last
task, the last description, the one that is given the most
prominent place in his sentence: “and the good news is preached
to the poor.” Jesus redefines John’s expectations by saying that
at the end of the day the most important thing is that those who
stand on the margins of respectable society are the unexpected
recipients of salvation.
Was the answer good enough for John’s doubts? Does it satisfy
your questions? It’s almost like Jesus anticipates that maybe it
won’t, so he offers one more thought: “Blessed is the man who
does not fall away on account of me.” At the heart of this
sentence is the cross. In the Greek in which Luke was written,
Jesus calls himself a scandal and blesses those who are not
scandalized by him. Other writers in the Bible have picked up on
this idea - especially Paul, by calling the message of the good
news, Christ crucified for our sins (even our doubts) a scandal
and foolishness. John was looking for a Messiah who would bring
judgment and deliverance, what he didn’t realize is that the
Messiah would bear the judgment himself. It is this scandal of
the cross—the foolishness of God—that is our strength this
morning.
We have good reason to doubt. How could we believe in a God so
weak that he dies, in a Savior so scandalous that he shares the
punishment of common criminals, in a salvation so foolish?
Because it is the wisdom and the power and the strength of God.
It addresses our deepest needs. It does not remove our doubt,
but it makes room for doubters to come to God. Friends you do
not need to overcome your doubts before you come to God. That’s
why we come every week to sing, to pray, and to hear someone
tell us about Jesus: we need him to take our doubts seriously
and to assure us. That’s why we come forward every week to eat a
little piece of bread and drink a too-small cup of wine: our
faith is weak and we need these earthly elements to confirm in
us our heavenly hope.
Bring your doubts to Jesus, just like John the Baptist. But come
prepared for him to redefine your expectations. If you come,
expecting to tell Jesus what he needs to do, you will be
scandalized by his mission and work. You will not find in him
your answers. You will be in danger of falling away. So come
with open hands and believing hearts. Our God is able to handle
your deepest fears.
Rev. Eric Landry
Pastor and Church Planter
Christ Presbyterian Church
Disclaimer:
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Mr. Christopher Sandoval, '05
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