The beginning of the good news about Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God, as it is written in Isaiah the prophet:

“I will send my messenger ahead of you,
    who will prepare your way”—
“a voice of one calling in the wilderness,
‘Prepare the way for the Lord,
    make straight paths for him.’”

And this was his message: “After me comes the one more powerful than I, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

The central character of the Advent season isn’t the baby in the manger; it’s John.

Somehow, though, he never shows up on the cover of the cards we send or in sanctuary decorations. He’s just not a good fit for the warm and cuddly spin we want to put on the season.

Even our common name for him, John the baptist or John the baptizer, latches on to the least disturbing part of the John narrative in the Bible.

For John is in every aspect a disturbing person. In modern terminology, he is a disruptor, demanding a radical reconsideration of everything the religious community of that day (or our day) considered normal.

When I try to picture what John looked like, I always think of the scariest street people I’ve ever come across: dirty, unkempt and angry. In other words, as far away from what polite people would consider acceptable as I can imagine. My own approach to faith has always been more or less intellectual; John’s is pure adrenaline, fueled by an exhausting urgency.

John’s whole identity is rebellious and countercultural. He lives an isolated life, abstaining from alcohol and worldly pleasures. He lives in the wilderness, feeding off of a scavenged diet of locusts and wild honey.

He seems to fear no one, loudly calling the high and mighty to repentence, calling them rude names and questioning the very basis of their pride, saying that God could make even the stones into children of Abraham if he so chose.

All of this makes it even more remarkable that, in the presence of Jesus, all of John’s confident rebelliousness evaporates into humble obedience: After me comes the one more powerful than I, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. 

We, too, are called to be fearless in the face of the world, no matter how powerful it seems. But when we face our savior, the only response is humility and obedience.