
He had a rather strange diet. His meat was locusts. His sweet tooth was satisfied with wild honey. He wore a roughly woven robe made of camel hair with a leather belt bound around his waist. He was the voice of one calling in the wilderness, preparing the way for the Lord. He worshipped his Cousin, but not with an inappropriate hero worship. No, his exaltation went much deeper. He worshipped his Cousin as his Lord.
As I've been reading through the book of John, I have grown to respect John the Baptizer. He is quickly becoming one of my favorite biblical characters, though if I could have a conversation with him, he would undoubtedly shun any praise, deflecting all glory to Jesus Christ. This is precisely why I admire him.
I was eavesdropping on the discussion between John and his disciples in the latter half of John 3. John's baptizing like usual, but now someone else is sharing the waters near him. Everyone is leaving John in order to be baptized by this other man's disciples, and John's disciples are a little perplexed. "Hey John! Look whose disciples are baptizing! And look who everyone is choosing to go to instead of you!" He looks. It's his younger cousin. It's Jesus.
I think it's about to get tense and I should stop eavesdropping; it's quite rude really. But I can't help myself. I have to keep reading. What's John going to do? Will the green-eye of jealousy stare back at his disciples? Will his tone of voice change ever so slightly, vibrating with chords of envy and resentment?
John speaks such beautiful words, it leaves me speechless. He refuses to feel envy. He refuses to see himself as important in the light of the glory of God. He looks his disciples in the eye, but his irises are not green. He replies, "A person cannot receive even one thing unless it is given him from heaven" (Jn. 3:27). Then he reminds his disciples (and perhaps himself?) that they too bore witness that he said, "I am not the Christ, but I have been sent before him" (v. 28). I wonder if he glances over at Christ, whose disciples are baptizing the crowds that were once John's own, and because he has once more made the choice to deflect the glory off of himself and onto the only One who is worthy, God blesses him with true joy and contentment and peace and love for his Savior. John continues, "The one who has the bride is the bridegroom. The friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly at the bridegroom's voice. Therefore this joy of mine is now complete" (v. 29).
Scripture doesn't describe John's facial expressions, but I imagine that his face is glowing. His joy is complete! He understands that it is not about him; it's about God revealed in the person of Jesus Christ! He risked it all. He gave up fame and glory and mortified (as in killed) his pride. Then he utters some of the most challenging words in Scripture (or at least challenging to me personally and the sin issues with which I daily struggle). He proclaims, "He must increase, but I must decrease" (v. 30). This verse was chosen as our class verse my senior year of high school, and ever since then it has become my motto in life.
On my way to work yesterday, I prayed that God would show me throughout the day how I can make decisions that would reflect the truth in this verse. I asked, "How can I decrease more and more throughout the day?" "How can I point to God in everything that I do and make sure HE receives the glory?" I was humbled in my job. I couldn't get a volunteer team together last minute to do the "menial tasks" that I have been trained to pass off to others, so I spent my day re-stocking connection cards and pens in the back pockets of over 650 chairs at our West Campus facility. I was grumbling and complaining, and then God reminded me of the lesson he had taught me that morning. In this task, how could God be glorified and His greatness be manifested through me?
This morning, my alarm went off to the sound of the radio, which was playing, "To God Be the Glory!" Amen! And may Jesus Christ be exalted!
















"A tornado touched down in Dekalb, and it's headed your way. Don't leave work." That was the advice of the person on the other end of the phone line. I hung up my cell phone and did what most sensible people do: write off the person's warning as an exaggeration, grab my keys, and hop in the car. A few minutes later, I realized I had made a mistake.







