My grandmother was a great one for changing the past. “You didn’t really want that job,” she’d say, after you’d blown the interview. “You didn’t like that boy anyway,” she’d comment, when the relationship was over. She wasn’t trying to be difficult, she was trying to eliminate the disappointment because you can’t be disappointed if your expectations were low to begin with.
I thought of my grandmother today when I read the Gospel story (John 1:29-42) because in the Gospel story, John is doing something very much like my grandmother–he’s changing his expectations.
Let me explain. Last week we heard the story of Jesus’ baptism. That event doesn’t surprise us, but for John who did the baptizing, it was outrageous, even scandalous. John never expected to be baptizing the Messiah–that’s just not the way it’s supposed to be. The Messiah, John believed, would come to set things right. A big part of that setting right would have to do with judgment. That’s what John is preparing for. Repent, he tells everyone, repent before it is too late! Because the Messiah will come and separate everyone out. He’ll be embracing the righteous, bringing them right into his Kingdom, and everyone else is going to be left out in the cold. Repent, or else!
That was supposedly the plan, but then here comes Jesus. He’s not separating out the pure and holy–in fact, he’s not with them at all. Jesus is in line with all those repentant sinners getting ready to be baptized. In an act of solidarity, not judgment, Jesus offers a Kingdom that is something else indeed. God’s Messiah isn’t building a fortress where all the good guys can hide; his Kingdom is an invitation, welcoming all into God’s presence. God’s people are holy , not so much because they are pure and good but because they are on the journey, following their savior.
So now it’s the next day. Against all expectation, John baptized God’s Messiah in the line with all the sinners, and now he’s telling the story of what happened. John didn’t know what was happening–that’s what he claims. It was the Holy Spirit who identified Jesus, who told John that no matter what John expected, this is the Messiah God is sending. And John’s on board with that. No more talk of the Messiah who will separate out the wheat from the chaff and bring fire to burn whatever doesn’t measure up; John has a new phrase: Behold the Lamb of God. Whatever that means.
What does that mean? It’s actually not a entity anyone was looking for, but there’s enough scriptural imagery here to give us an idea of John’s meaning. The lamb has to do with the Passover, that great remembrance of God’s act of liberation and salvation. The lamb has to do with faithfulness, and, of course, it means sacrifice. Salvation has a new definition. The Messiah isn’t coming to rescue God’s righteous folks from their unrighteous situation. The plan is bigger than that. The Lamb will free the ones who are caught up in sin. The ones who might not even know they need rescuing, or might not even be hoping for freedom–all those the Lamb has come to save. And when the time comes and sin and evil have done their worst, the Lamb will expose them as the defeatable powers they are because God’s power will defeat them.
All that is to come, but for the moment, it seems John’s words are enough. He points out the Lamb to his disciples, and they’re good to go, following Jesus–Andrew even brings his brother along. But before we move on to that next chapter of the Gospel, let’s stay with John for just a moment. What’s going on? Is this change in expectation an act of resignation, or is there something of faith here?
To answer that, let me tell another story: Last week I read the story of an atheist, and how he came to his unbelief. He wasn’t always an unbeliever; he started out a Christian, and a devout one. He was serious and active in his faith, but he started to have doubts. Difficulties crept in–questions that couldn’t be answered, theology that didn’t completely make sense. So, the atheist-to-be made a plan. Enough of this living by faith–he wanted proof. He demanded that God prove himself. He writes that he figured he was justified in this demand because, after all, the Bible is full of the stories of people getting the proof they were looking for. So he demanded nothing less.
Well, you can figure out where this story went. God did not show up on command. The demands for proof went unanswered, and the believer became an unbeliever. Now, there’s something arrogant in this story, but there’s something true as well. How many are not here, and have given up because prayers were not answered and God did not act as expected? How many of us now are struggling with the question of God’s presence and purpose in our difficulties. A miracle would be nice.
Ironically, the Bible is not full of stories of people getting God to do what they want. In fact the opposite is true–the Bible is full of the stories of people like John whose expectations aren’t met, who are called to sing a new song of faith in an unexpected, even unwanted situation. Our story from the Old Testament is just such a tale
Isaiah was a prophet in a time of–let’s say, transition. God’s people Israel had been living with fairly conventional expectations and ambitions, being a small kingdom and country, expecting that God would keep them safe and secure to be that small country and kingdom. Things didn’t work out as expected for a variety of reasons, and now Isaiah must wrestle with the question–what next?
We don’t have the words or stories of those who gave up, who assumed that God had nothing to offer, that God’s people had no purpose or identity. We have Isaiah, and what he discovers blows all small expectations sky high. It isn’t enough, he learns to be a small country with a unique identity and a unique religion. It isn’t enough to know that your system of laws is superior to all others. Too small a thing! Time now to share the light of that knowledge, to demonstrate to nations far and wide the truth. God is much more than the God of Israel, and his plan is much more than keeping this small nation on track. God’s plan of life is for all, and Isaiah’s prophetic call is to share that message.
We have a word for what Isaiah and John are doing. Repentance.
Repentance isn’t just about not doing bad things. Repentance is recognizing yet again that we are not the center of the universe, and that God has not asked us to be his close advisors, and knowing that this is Good News. Repentance frees us from the expectation and burden of being in charge so that we can be who we are. Repentance is a surrender, to the truth, but it doesn’t mean giving up. Repentance calls us into life, past the barriers of our rules and expectations and into the real encounter with grace.
Repentance might be good advice, probably is, but how do we do it? Let me bring one last scripture passage into the picture:
Here we have the beginning of Paul’s letter to the Church in Corinth. This is a church with issues, and we’ll see them as continue to read the letter, but at this point, we have Paul’s thanksgivings. He’s giving thanks for particular things–the Corinthians’ knowledge, their devotion, their awareness of spiritual gifts–none of those topics are accidental. Paul is giving thanks for what will be the issues of his letter.
You see, the Corinthians lived their Christian faith as if it were a contest. WHo is the most spiritual? Who knows the most? What’s the hierarchy of holiness? They weren’t all wrong. They had some things right. They recognized, for example, that this Christian life is a deep reality–no superficial theology for them. They knew that they were called to do more, to be more, to act on their faith; they lacked just one thing. The Corinthians were missing the love that is at the foundation of this message, without which none of the rest works. Paul hopes to bring them into repentance, to draw them to see what they are missing. But here, at the beginning of his letter he is giving thanks for what they have. It’s a place to begin.
What if we do the same thing? What if we take an issue, our issue, and give thanks? If you’re bored–give thanks for what satisfies and has brought you to this plateau. If you’re anxious, give thanks for your high standards that keep you from being satisfied. If other people are the problem, give thanks for them. You get the idea. The point is to look at things differently, recognizing that your perspective, however right, isn’t the only one. Maybe if we can find the blessing, we can find the calling, to move from what we expect to what God is giving us. It’s the path John, Isaiah, and countless others have taken–to get out of our own way, in order that grace might find a way in.