“Testifying to the Light”

John 1:6-8,19-28



Pastor Tom Johnson, December 14, 2014

“Who are you?” John the Baptist is asked.

“I am not the Messiah,” He candidly responds.

“Are you Elijah?”

“No.”

“The prophet?”

“Nope.”

“Please just tell us who you are plainly so we can go back and tell those who sent us.”

“I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord!’”

“Why baptize people if you aren’t the Messiah, Elijah, or the prophet?”

“Because,” John says, “My baptism with water is preparing me and others for Someone special, unique, holy, and of surpassing worth—so much so that I am not even worthy to serve his feet with the simple, menial task of taking off his sandal.”

This conversation illustrates how John the Baptist is a witness. A witness experiences something. A witness then testifies to his or her experience. A witness gives a first hand account of what they have seen, what they heard, smelled, tasted, and felt. A witness tells a story. You can tell by the look in his eyes. You can tell by the sound of his voice. You can tell by the smell of insects and honey on his breath. You can tell by the way he takes hold of you when he plunges you into the water. This guy is credible. He is the real deal. John the Baptist is a trustworthy, sincere witness. His voice crying out in the wilderness is pitched high for large crowds and wide spaces. There is a authentic tone of urgency in his voice. His zeal and passion have the attention of those who hear his testimony. John has experienced the Light. He is now directing others to that Light. He is preparing them for their own encounter of the Light. John is a lesser light pointing to the greater Light.

We have the same call—to prepare the way of the Lord by pointing to the Light. Jesus calls us to witness the light when he teaches us to pray, “Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” He calls us to testify to the light when he ascends into heaven and says “You shall be my witnesses…to the end of the earth.” John’s example ought to encourage us. We are invited to experience the Light. We get to tell others about the Light. We are his witnesses. We testify to how our lives have been enlightened—how our we have lived through darkness to brighter days.

Like many in college, I had strayed pretty far from the faith of my youth, growing up going to church every Sunday. I remember conversations with our church organist and my mom who sent me away from home and my home-church with their prayers. I know they prayed that I would not stray from the Light. But leaving home and going to college did become a dark period for me. I don’t remember doing anything too outrageous. I just remember that I was groping in the dark emotionally and spiritually. I worried a lot. I had a hard time sleeping. I felt bound in a gloomy world where God took no real interest in me. I lived in that dark void of the universe where Jesus was just someone’s invention—just a made-up story for people who need to cope with guilt and the reality of death. As I made friends, I started to notice a pattern. Some of my friends went to church. Some of them believed in Jesus. Some of them invited me to go to church with them. They started to testify to the Light. There was a real difference in the way that these bearers of Christ’s Light cared for others.

There was nothing spectacular about the place we were—our conversations were in dorm rooms, hallways, and along the sidewalks through campus. It could very well have been in the remote and barren wilderness near the Jordan River. There was nothing complicated about their testimony. They told me what they believed. They told me when they had no good answers for my questions. Like John, their authenticity was stronger than their concern for polished, oratory skills. My Christian friends ate the same diet as me—mostly cafeteria food, junk-food, and the occasional evening out at our favorite Chinese restaurant. But our conversation more nourishing than locusts and sweeter than honey. These witnesses wore—for the most part—blue jeans and sweatshirts. It was a step up from camel skin but they decked out with the Light of the Good News—and robed in the bright righteousness of Christ. One of those friends of mine would later become my wife. It was that experience of Light in my life that ignited an insatiable hunger for the Bible. It reinvigorated a desire that began in my childhood—something that I told my fourth grade teacher in the public school—I wanted to be a pastor.

What bathes my heart in the warmth of God’s Light this morning is the reminder of what it means to be a witness to the Light. You can be as rough around the edges as John. You can be as eccentric as John. You can be as unspectacular as John. You can be as simple and earthy as John. You have a story to tell. Maybe your story is unfolding now. Perhaps you feel overwhelmed by the darkness. Maybe your story is just beginning to unfold as you experience the Light. Perhaps you are waiting for something spectacular and are afraid it will never come. That is why we should listen to the voices crying out in the wilderness. That is why we should not fear to cry out ourselves. You have a story to tell. Tell it in all of its unspectacular glory. Don’t worry about dressing it up in your Sunday’s best. God’s power is in the Light of the Gospel—the good news we experience and the Light that we share. The Light has been born into our lives in the Christ Child. The Light comes to scatter the darkness of this world. And so we pray, even so, come Lord, Jesus.