John the Baptist

Too Good to be True

Matthew 11:2-11

When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”

Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”

As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John:

“What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal 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, ‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’

Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.


“Don’t get your hopes up; it sounds too good to be true.” T\p.hat’s what Katelyn said to me as I waved the gift card in the air. It was March of 2020 and we had just bought our first home. We were overjoyed and broke.

But then one day shortly after moving in, a very official looking piece of mail came from what sounded like a reputable company.

Curious I opened it up and to my delight there, in the letter, was a $150 gift card. “Congratulations on your new home. Here is a small gift from us.” It didn’t exactly cover our new mortgage but I was stressed about money and suddenly here was a small token of relief! The letter simply said to call this number to activate the card.

So I pull out my phone, call the number, and someone actually picks up; not a machine! This is good I think. Then I hear what are either other call center workers or a TV in the background…

That’s odd, but, ever the optimist, I say, “I got your letter and I’m calling to activate the card.” The person on the other end said “Great! I just needed your social security number and”... Before she could finish the sentence I hung up; irate, and embarrassed. Katelyn turned to me and said those four words you hate to hear, “I told you so..”

She was right. The gift card was indeed too good to be true.

Yet, isn’t that how scams, or just marketing in general, work? Preying on folk’s needs, desires, and insecurities by promising something that fixes their problems. You’ve been there or felt that way. Stressed about money when suddenly you get an email saying you’ve won the sweepstakes.

Struggling to do all that needs to get done in a day when you see an influencer taut a new device or appliance that promises to give you hours back.

Or you're lonely, feeling like you’ve got no one there for you when you see an online ad that promises your loneliness will go away with this new app.

We want to believe these things will work, that they’ll do what they say, and offer relief, if even temporarily.

I imagine John the Baptist was in search of some relief too as he sat in prison. He’s in there because he told Herod not to marry his own brother’s wife, that’s against Jewish law. Herod did it anyway and then threw John in jail.

We don’t know how long John had been in prison. But if it were me, it wouldn’t take long at all before I felt alone, afraid, and desperate to get out. So I can only assume John felt the same way.

But then comes the news of all that Jesus was doing. Over the last few chapters in Matthew, Jesus was on the move, doing all sorts of miraculous deeds:Healing the sick, calming storms, casting out demons, giving sight to the blind, voice to the voiceless, and even raising a young girl from the dead.

All of this spread through the towns, the countryside, even to the dark prison where John sat, growing more desperate with each passing day. I can’t help but think John heard these reports and remembered Isaiah’s promise — the blind seeing, the lame walking, the deaf hearing.

John knows the world is full of false hopes and empty promises. People have claimed to be the messiah before — but could this one be real? Could this be the One who brings a new kingdom, who sets the captives free, who fulfills everything I’ve prayed, preached, and prophesied? Hope rises, but doubt remains. … so he sent some of his disciples to ask the question… “are you the one? Or are we supposed to wait for another”.

Notice John says we, not I… meaning his concern isn’t only about himself. Even though he’s in a terrible situation, he worries about all the other people who are struggling too. It’s as if John asks, “Are you too good to be true Jesus, I need to know not only for me but for everyone in need of relief from the darkness they endure.”

Hopefully I’m not the only one who’s asked that question — or wondered, especially in Advent, if it’s all too good to be true.

That God would leave heaven and become human, be born to poor, unwed parents, live under occupation, suffer betrayal, and willingly die a terrible death, all so that he could forgive you and me and all the world, and we could live with the assurance of his grace, a grace that we could never earn but is freely given, with no strings attached? That certainly sounds too good to be true.

Jesus responds by saying: “Go tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive sight, the lame walk, the lepers cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead raised, and good news brought to the poor”. It’s not exactly a straight answer.

It would have been so much easier for John, his disciples, and even for us, if Jesus gave a direct answer and said “yes, I am the one you’ve been waiting for. I am the Messiah”. But he didn’t.

And to complicate things further, John’s disciples didn’t only see miracles. Pain and suffering, oppression and death were all around them — just as they are in our own time. Look at what’s happened in the last 24 hours…

We never know if John received this answer from Jesus or if he was satisfied with it. But what about you? Does it satisfy you?

We, like John, sit in our own prisons. They may not have bars, but they entrap us just the same:

a quiet house filled with loneliness,

a mind crowded with worry at 2 a.m.,

grief that quietly overwhelms,

a world that feels too heavy to bear.

From that darkness, we ask the same question, “Are you the one Jesus? Are you the one who’s come to set all this right? To set me right? How can we know? Well this may come as a shock, but we can’t know, at least not on our own.

Luther puts it this way, “I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ”

but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel, leads me to faith, and keeps me in faith.”

It is a gift, not something we come up with on our own, thanks be to God. And because of this gift, we can trust in the promises of Jesus.

When we doubt, when we struggle, when we feel overcome by suffering in the world, the Holy Spirit helps us trust that God is at work in places we wouldn’t expect! That’s what Jesus tells John and his disciples. Jesus says to them, “If you want to come to believe that I am the One, look at the places where there is suffering, in your own life and in the world around you. That’s where I am at work.”

Jesus is the one — not because everything feels fixed, but because he is already at work in the darkness.

Faith gives us not certainty, but trust in that promise.

I love what Bonhoeffer wrote to Maria, his fiance, while sitting in his prison cell during Advent in 1943. He wrote: “Just when everything is bearing down on us to such an extent that we can scarcely withstand it, the Christmas message comes to tell us that all our ideas are wrong, and that what we take to be evil and dark is really good and light because it comes from God. Our eyes are at fault, that is all. God is in the manger, wealth in poverty, succor in abandonment.”

Christmas, the promises of Jesus, grace… it all sounds too good to be true. But the truth is, it’s even better. Amen.


The Art of Empathy

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Luke 3:7-16

John said to the crowds that came out to be baptized by him, ‘You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not begin to say to yourselves, “We have Abraham as our ancestor”; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.’

And the crowds asked him, ‘What then should we do?’ In reply he said to them, ‘Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.’ Even tax-collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, ‘Teacher, what should we do?’ He said to them, ‘Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.’ Soldiers also asked him, ‘And we, what should we do?’ He said to them, ‘Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.’

As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, John answered all of them by saying, ‘I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.


This weekend, I introduced my son Clive, who is not yet two, to one of my favorite holiday classics: The Grinch - the Dr. Seuss version. Clive was unimpressed. He couldn’t care less about the green antihero but loved the singing from all the Whos down in Whoville. He lasted about twenty minutes before toddling off to find some mischief of his own. But even in those twenty minutes, I couldn’t help but think: John the baptist and the grinch sure do have a whole lot in common.

Hear me out: both live out in the wilderness, far from everyone else. Both have bizarre diets - one eats locust and honey, the other chows down on trash and glass. Both shout strange things at the townspeople. Both are hairy, at least the Jim Carey version. But most importantly, and oddly enough, both the Grinch and John the Baptist have something to teach us about empathy.

Much like the grinch, John the Baptist wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy. Crowds came out to him near the Jordan river for baptism. And just like walking into a family holiday gathering, John greets them with name calling and chastisement. Maybe you can relate.

You children of snakes, John says, you think my baptism or being children of Abraham will save you?” he asks. “No, live a life worthy of repentance.” In other words, the messiah is coming and your judgement is not based on who your ancestors are or where you come from, but on how you live your life.

And so the crowds ask him, “What then should we do?” John replies: “If you’ve got two coats, give one away. If you’ve got food, share it.” Then the tax collectors—despised, likely wealthy—ask, “What about us? What should we do?” John says, “Don’t take more than you’re supposed to. Be fair.” Finally, the soldiers ask the same thing, “And what about us, what should we do?” John answers, “Be content with what you have. Don’t threaten. Don’t bully.”

Share. Be fair. Don’t bully. In other words: Have a heart, you grinches! See the pain of your neighbors. And then try—try a little—to make it better. Or at least, don’t make it worse. Give, not just have, some empathy.

This Advent, as we wait for the messiah, we’ve been asking the same question the crowds asked John: What should we do? How should we live? John’s advice is as good now as it was then. Have some empathy. And if there’s one thing we desperately need, it’s that.

A couple of weeks ago at the Racial Justice reading circle, Franci Kissel mentioned an article first published in the Detroit free press entitled, Civility Failed, so let’s try empathy. Nancy Kaffer, the author, says, “I don't think anyone likes how America feels these days… we all know that times are hard, but we don’t agree on why, who’s to blame, or what’s to be done. We cast our fellow Americans in absurd extremes, assuming the worst possible motivations.” Civility would be nice, but if we are accusing each other of horrible things, does it matter whether we are doing it nicely? What we really need, if we are going to get along and see each other as fully human as ourselves, is empathy.

The good news, says both Kaffer and David Brooks, is that empathy can be learned. The bad news is that you have to want to learn it. Most of the time, we don’t. We build and rely on defenses instead. Some of us avoid connection altogether, retreating into work or shallow interactions to protect ourselves. Others feel unworthy of love, carrying scars from neglect that undermine relationships and self-esteem. Some overreact, seeing threats where there are none and escalate conflicts. Still others rely on passive aggression, avoiding direct communication and manipulating through guilt, which erodes trust. These defenses, while once protective, now block us from truly knowing and being known by others.

If we want connection, if we are going to see others as the child of God they are, we need empathy. But empathy isn’t just having a bigger heart like the grinch. It’s not a gush of feeling that washes over you while watching a tearjerker movie. By this definition, empathy feels simple, natural even: I feel for you. But that’s not quite right. Empathy is work. David Brooks describes it as three deliberate acts.

First is mirroring. This is recognizing and reflecting someone’s emotions. A person good at mirroring is quick to experience and express the emotion someone else is feeling. My friend Kyle is great at this: when I laugh, he laughs; when I’m tired, he yawns; I’m angry and suddenly his voice takes on an edge. Mirroring helps us understand what someone is feeling because we experience it in our body too, at least a little bit.

Next is mentalizing. Once you know what someone is feeling, you try to understand why they feel the way they do. We do this by reaching back into our own experiences and relate their feelings to a time when we felt similar. You remember what it was like starting a new job, losing a loved one, or getting devastating news. It won’t be exactly the same, but it gives you some insight into their struggles.

Finally, caring. Empathy isn’t just feeling someone’s pain; it’s stepping in to help. Con artists, Brooks points out, are very good at reading people’s emotions, but we don’t call them empathetic; they take advantage of the emotion rather than offer support. Children are good at reading emotions, but not good at knowing what to do. I stubbed my toe the other day and Clive went and did the same thing. While sweet now we were both crying.

Truly caring is not only knowing how someone feels, but understanding what they need; not what you would need. When I am anxious, Katelyn doesn’t care for me with what she wants, a hug; she gives me what I want, which is space. That’s caring.

Some folks are naturally good at this. But empathy is a skill that can be learned, improved upon, just like a sport or running. It takes practice. Small things, like reading more or acting classes, anything that gets us focused on others and not ourselves, helps. Sometimes it just takes enduring the hardships of life so that you can relate to others better.

Yet, we all have received empathy. Someone has mirrored your emotions, understood your struggles, and stepped in to help when you needed it most. That kind of love changes us.

And isn’t that exactly what God does for us in Jesus? The incarnation, the very act of Christmas, is the most radical act of empathy the world has ever seen and that we’ve ever received. God doesn't stay distant, shaking God’s head at our mess and pain. Instead, God steps into our skin, literally mirroring our humanity. God feels hunger, exhaustion, grief, and rejection. In Jesus, God knows what it is to long for connection only to be met with our defenses. But God doesn’t stop there. God doesn’t just feel what we feel; God acts.

Knowing exactly what we need, God bridges the gap with a grace so powerful that it takes away our sin, breaks through every defense we put up, and restores the connection we so desperately need. Jesus hung on the cross, removed our sin, and each new day pours out grace to draw us back into relationship. That is empathy in its truest, boldest form.

So, this Christmas, I hope your heart grows like the Grinch’s—three sizes bigger and ready to love. But don’t stop there. Empathy isn’t just about a bigger heart; it’s about action. It’s about seeing someone’s pain, understanding their story, and stepping in to help.

It’s what God has done for you in Jesus, and it’s exactly what your neighbor needs from you now more than ever. This Christmas, give the gift of empathy. It might be the best gift they receive.

Amen.