Questioning Jesus
When John, who was in prison, heard about the deeds of the Messiah, he sent his disciples to ask him, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?”
Jesus replied, “Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor.”
Matthew 11:2-5
Dear Friends,
There are different disruptive wilderness existences that can bring more pain than certainty, more doubt than clarity, more confusion than ease. It seems like John the Baptist knew what he was made to do with his life, confident in his wacky wilderness calling dressed in camel hair and yelling like a street preacher. His prophetic role showcased guerrilla theatre-like antics, subversively critiquing Roman and religious power, authority, and wealth of the day. John knew what he was supposed to do and confidently stepped into God’s calling in this wilderness existence.
Until he caught the attention of the offended and they threw him into prison. A different kind of wilderness existence.
Most often, I am confident in what I’m supposed to do with my life, calling, and purpose. But when I place more of my energy and focus on what the future result of my current behavior “should” look like—when I dream too far forward with a clear expectation of how everything “should” turn out—my behaviors get redirected to fulfill that future agenda. No longer am I living into what I am called to DO and instead I start trying to manifest some future result I’ve dreamed up.
When John lived into his daily calling of being present with people, pointing out the harmful and greedy ways people lived, and baptizing them into a new kind of existence, he stayed focused on what was, not on what wasn’t yet. This wilderness-of-doing helped him stay confident and present. But when he was thrown into prison, this new wilderness-of-being eroded his confidence and questioned his calling. He wondered if he had gotten everything wrong. He began tallying up his mistakes and oversights. He wondered if he had wasted his life—did it mean anything?
John’s expectation of the future—a Divine Rescuer who would kick-ass and take down Rome—wasn’t coming into existence. This Divine Rescuer, who John thought was Jesus, couldn’t possibly be Jesus because Jesus was eating and partying with “scummy” people, wasn’t wearing mourning clothes, wasn’t hollering in the streets about how rotten people were, and wasn’t starting a revolution.
What a disappointment.
“Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?”
“Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?”
“Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?”
The wilderness has the capacity to make me question my calling, my purpose, my faith, my beliefs, my convictions, my entire life. And in the questions, Jesus lovingly looks to me and says, “Look to the hills and see your help comes from the Lord who made it all.” Jesus pulls my face towards his and kindly says, “I see you in your struggle and I love you in your struggle. Now in your struggle, help others see and hear and walk and come to new life. Help others heal while you bring good news of God’s love to those who feel overwhelmed by their own loss and lack.”
“Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?”
Praise God.
With (love),
Bethany