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.

Matthew 3:1-12

In those days, John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea proclaiming, “Repent for the kingdom of heaven has come near. This is the one about whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said, ‘The voice of one crying out in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord, and make his paths straight.’” Now, John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist and his food was locusts and wild honey.

Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all along the region of the Jordan, to be baptized by John in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.

But when John saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming to him for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee the wrath to come? Bear fruit worthy of repentance and do not pretend to say about yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor.’ For I tell you, from these stones, God could raise up children to Abraham. Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees and every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.

“I baptize with fire, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me. I’m not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hands to clear the threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

Well, last week Pastor Cogan gave us the Grinch who stole Christmas – and terrorized some small children by bursting into their homes and stealing Christmas gifts, right before their eyes and right out from under their Christmas trees. So, not to be outdone, I give you John the Baptist, with his camel’s hair and leather, his locusts and wild honey, those axes, threshing floors, winnowing forks, and unquenchable fire. Merry Christmas.

But seriously, if you heard Pastor Cogan last week and took advantage of his homework assignment – to make an Advent List of things you’d like for God to remove from your life in preparation for the coming of Christmas and beyond – then I hope the words of John the Baptist aren’t as scary as some have made them out to be over the years. I mean that it’s deeply faithful and profoundly meaningful to see John the Baptist as less of a Grinch and more of a harbinger of hope. It can be life-changing to see that the trees being chopped and the threshing floor being cleared and the chaff being burned don’t have to represent people, for crying out loud, which is what too many have believed for too long in this world.

We don’t have to fear the Lord who’s on the way, in those ways, any longer. Instead, we are invited to look forward to and prepare for God’s coming in Jesus by getting ready for this unquenchable fire of God’s grace as a good and holy thing, instead, that means to lovingly burn away the chaff of our lives – to rid us of the bad stuff like our pride… the sinful stuff like our selfishness… the faith-stealing stuff of our fear, the light-dimming stuff of vengeance and war and more.

John calls us to be rid of it all by way of a good bath, or a thorough pruning, or maybe by setting it out like so much trash at the curb on garbage day.

And while this is all good news – and not nearly as terrible or as scary as many have made John the Baptist’s words out to be – it may not always come easy; there’s some tough love in what John offers up today, too. And it has to do with this call to repentance.

And, my favorite story about repentance is one from my own childhood.

When I was a kid – about seven or eight years old – I was sledding in the winter with my neighbors and very best friends – on a hill not far from where we lived. Our sledding hill was great. It was in the yard of some members of our church, and complete with a creek of running water at the bottom. The creek was small, but deep enough apparently, that it didn’t always freeze in the winter.

Anyway, during an afternoon of sledding and snowmen and snow ball fights, I got into a real, actual fight with one of my best friends, who was and is more like a second big brother to me. (I told this story at his wedding, at which I presided, just a couple of weeks ago, which is why it came to mind again this week.) Anyway, there was yelling and screaming and pushing and pulling and, even though he was 3 years older than me – and bigger and stronger in every way – I somehow managed to push him into the icy water of that creek at the bottom of the hill.

As surprised as I was by whatever strength, good luck, and gravity had worked in my favor, I was just as instantly ashamed and scared and consumed with guilt over what I had done to my friend. I felt bad for whatever fluke had allowed me to win the fight. I felt terrible that my friend was cold and wet and embarrassed by it all. And I was worried, too, about what would happen to both of us once our parents found out. So, in all of my shame and guilt and fear and regret – and with all the wisdom of my seven or eight years – I shouted out my apologies as I did my own wintry version of the Nestea plunge right next to him in the icy water of that creek.

And, even if my repentance was cold and wet and unhelpful in so many ways, it was heartfelt. It was honest. And it came from a real and deep desire to make things right again between my friend and me. I would have undone my transgression altogether if I could have, but that wasn’t possible. So, all I could do was apologize and begin a long, soggy, very cold, frozen walk home.

And I think the tough love of John the Baptist was – and is – an invitation to this kind of repentance. Not that we have to jump into the cold, unforgiving waters of our sinfulness – or that that would accomplish anything more than my Nestea plunge was able to accomplish.

But that we would recognize the fullness of our sins in the light of God’s willingness to do that for us – and more: to jump into the world, I mean … to enter into the cold, frozen waters of our transgressions, I mean … to climb onto the cross and out of the tomb for our sake, I mean. And that once we recognize the fullness of that kind of sacrifice and love, we’ll resolve to do better and different in response to God’s grace.

So, what does that mean for you in these days leading up to Christmas? What does it mean for Christians, waiting on the birth of Jesus, to “bear fruit worthy of repentance?” After all, we’re just as flawed, broken, scared, insecure, imperfect, and hard-hearted as those Pharisees and Sadducees who showed up at the Jordan to be baptized by John. And while repentance is one of the most faithfully Christian things we can practice, it’s not something that comes easy for most of us.

I think to “bear fruit worthy of repentance” means we give ourselves over to grace; we let our guard down; we open our hearts up; we let the cracks of our brokenness show; and we let those cracks be filled with all God has to offer as a loving fix. Repentance is about letting ourselves be vulnerable to the love of God, so that we might be changed by the good news that comes in Jesus.

When we buy that… When we let that Truth into our heads and into our hearts… When we allow that reality to shape and influence our actions and our behavior… that’s when true, deep, faithful repentance will happen. Repentance will come because we will be changed and we will change the ways we live in this world.

Then, I believe, the chaff of our lives – our greed, our pride, our selfishness, and all the rest – will fall away and we’ll be happy and blessed to watch it burn in the unquenchable fire of God’s amazing grace and be drowned by the waters of God’s unrelenting love, until we’re able to share more of the same love, mercy, and forgiveness in Jesus’ name.

Amen

Too Good to be True

Sledding Repentance