A Stump in the River John 1:6-8, 19-28

When I was in Boy Scouts as a youth many years ago, the troop I belonged to had a regular practice of two-night camp outs each month. Friday night was for traveling and setting up camp; Saturday was for hiking and working on merit badges and other Scout activities; Sunday was for devotions, and then striking camp and going home. Pretty much what you would expect from a Boy Scout camp out. I don’t know if other troops did this, but Saturday night was when we had campfire, and every boy was expected to make a contribution to the evening’s entertainment. Usually there was the singing of camp songs. Often there were one or two boys who would do their rendition of the latest Bill Cosby or Don Adams comedy album. (If you remember Don Adams comedy albums, you know how long ago this really was!) But the entertainment we could always count on were skits done by the patrols. Boys, ages 11 through 17, are not always the most creative sorts when it comes to acting. This is particularly true when you can’t take advantage of props, set pieces, and scripts. So the skits had to be easy to memorize, easy to perform, and they had to keep the attention of the other boys. Not surprisingly, most skits got repeated many times over the years. In some respects, that was a good thing because it was an initiation into the culture of that troop, learning the stories they tell. But mainly, repetition became a challenge to finding new ways to keep the same old skit entertaining. One of the easier skits to modify, and therefore one of the most popular in our troop, was known as the Light Bulb Skit – at least, that’s what we called it. The patrol would come walking in, and the patrol leader, in the role of foreman, would announce that the others had been hired to work in the mine, looking for gold, or silver, or diamonds, or jellybeans – whatever suited the imagination of that patrol leader. The foreman would walk away, and the patrol members would swing their imaginary pick axes at an imaginary mine wall. This would go on for a short while, until one of the boys – usually the newest member of the patrol – would look around, and carefully lay down his imaginary pick axe. Convinced that the foreman was nowhere around, the boy would start jumping around and flailing his arms while shouting, “Amen, I’m a light bulb, I’m a light bulb. Amen, I’m a light bulb, I’m a light bulb.” The other patrol members would keep swinging their imaginary pick axes as if there was nothing unusual about this behavior. After a few moments of this flailing and shouting, the foreman would come back in and tell him to knock it off, and to get back to work. The boy would carefully pick up his imaginary pick axe, and he would start swinging it at the imaginary mine wall. Satisfied that this errant member was again working, the foreman would leave. But a moment or two later, this same scout would look around, lay down his imaginary pick axe, and again he would start jumping around and flailing his arms while shouting, “Amen, I’m a light bulb, I’m a light bulb.” This sequence would be repeated, and the third time the foreman would announce that this was not the place for that kind of foolishness, and the boy was fired. The light bulb scout would trudge off, dragging his imaginary pick axe behind him. Surprisingly, all the other scouts would shoulder their imaginary pick axes and follow after him. When the foreman stops them and asks them why they are leaving, one of them says, (and this is the punch line) “You don’t expect us to work without light, do you?” Looking back with an analytical mind, I think the skit worked on several different levels. It was comforting, because we knew it so well. It was always amusing to see just how animated the light bulb scout could become with his shouting and flailing, as well as how long the patrol leader would wait before stopping him. And because we understood that you can’t really become a light bulb, the skit was an affirmation that we all need the light, even if sometimes that means we will accept a shouting and flailing substitute for the real thing. That is a big part of our reading for today, to help us prepare for the coming of Christ. John the Baptizer proclaims that we need the light, and yet we are not the light. John shows that we can tell people about the light, even as we admit that we are not the light. John proclaims that the light of God is coming into the world, and it is our job to point it out to the world. If we believe that Jesus is the messiah, this message of John the Baptizer should be obvious to us. So why do we have so much trouble believing it? Why do we find shouting and flailing persons who proclaim that they are the light so easy to follow? Why are we so ready to accept a poor substitute for the real thing, when the real thing is readily available to us? To answer this, we have to look again at the Gospel according to John. John’s gospel begins with those wonderful theopoetic words that nudge us towards understanding that the mystery of God is something so much more than be measured and defined. Hear these words again: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. That passage is whole and complete, just like that – but that is not how the Gospel of John begins. Did you notice what is missing from that passage? What we are missing are the first few verses of our reading for today. Verses 6-8 disrupt the flow of these beautiful words like a stump in a stream. In this midst of this poetry about the coming of Jesus as the true light of God, we get John the Baptizer plunked down in the middle of its flow. And like a stump in a stream, the power of the stream rushing by is revealed. Not only that, but the John we get introduced to isn’t quite the same as the John we meet in the other gospels. We aren’t told about John the Baptizer wearing clothes made of camel hair. We are not told about eating locusts and wild honey in the wilderness. There is no mention of his being a cousin of Jesus. Even the baptizing is downplayed here. There is nothing about John that is noteworthy or special. So, why does John, the writer of this gospel, introduce the Baptizer like this? Verse 5 is talking about the light shining in the darkness and the darkness not overcoming it, and verse 9 goes on to talk about the light coming into the world. Why not wait to get Jesus all the way introduced, and then introduce John the Baptizer? Well, I think John clearly could have written it that way. There is an obvious skill in how John weaves together his gospel, so we know that he knew how to tell a story. The gospel writer clearly understood the importance of transitions and foreshadowing, the rhythm and flow of words to communicate a story so that it will hold our attention. John knows how to do this, but he doesn’t – not here, not in this passage – so there must be a reason why he did this. I think this may be one of the most honest and revealing parts of the gospel – at least, as it concerns what we know about the gospel writer. He interrupts this carefully crafted passage because he himself can’t wait to tell us his purpose in writing the gospel. He wrote his gospel to make it clear that we who follow Jesus are not the light, but that we have seen the light. We are not the ones who bring the light into the world, but we can point the world towards the light. We are not the ones who chase away the darkness, but we can testify that we have had our darkness chased away. Like John the Baptizer, and like John the gospel writer, we can testify that it is not us, but Christ in us, who comes into the darkness of the world of sin and death, to bring the light of God into the world. Both Johns want us to see and experience the force of this good news. And both Johns want us to know that when we testify, we reveal the power of Jesus Christ. We are the people who are called to testify on behalf of Jesus. We often find it hard to do, however. It is almost as if we are afraid that we will lose our faith if we share it with others. Too much of the time, we hold our faith closely, quietly, as if we were trying to protect and preserve it. To borrow a quip from another pastor, God never intended the Church to be a refrigerator in which to preserve perishable piety. In law, “to testify” is to make an assertion offering firsthand authentication of a fact. In faith, “to testify” is to make an assertion offering firsthand authentication of a truth – it is telling others what Jesus has done for you. While it is important to know the scriptures and stories of Jesus, our testimony is about being able to name the name of Jesus. It’s about being able to say “this is what Jesus has done for me.” It’s about saying “this is how my life is different because of Jesus.” And because it is your testimony about your relationship with Jesus, it doesn’t have to fit someone else’s story. Your story may have dramatic focus points like Paul’s, or it may be a series of smaller, personal moments when you knew that forgiveness and mercy were yours to claim because God loves you. An authentic testimony can’t always be said from the safety of the river bank. Sometimes, we have to be a sign to the world for those persons who are afraid to get into the cleansing, purifying, baptismal river of life. In those moments, we don’t have to be Elijah or a prophet, and we certainly are not the messiah – we just have to say, as did Martin Luther, “Here I stand.” Another way to say this is that to testify is to offer something that serves as evidence. And perhaps the best evidence we can offer is living in such a way that people will see that what we say about forgiveness and mercy, and what we say about love and acceptance through Jesus Christ, is true. Others will know that it is true because we don’t just say these nice words – we live our lives in such a faithful way that the people are forgiven, the hungry are fed, the lost are found, the blind can see, and the dead are raised to new life. We know that walking around in the darkness can lead to bruised shins and stubbed toes. The evidence is all around us that we live in a hurting world that continues to stumble in the darkness, which brings more pain to others. The world knows that walking around in the darkness of sin has consequences, but the world doesn’t know where to find the light. The world is waiting for someone – the world is waiting for us – to testify to the Light of Jesus Christ. And the testimony that the world will always believe is when we give them evidence of what Jesus Christ has done for us. Our next hymn is a hymn of testimony. We affirm that we are not the light that comes from heaven – all the flailing and shouting in the world won’t change that truth. But that doesn’t mean that our testimony must always be quiet and reserved. We, of all people, know that a hymn of praise can be sung “lustily and with good courage,” just as John Wesley encouraged us in his rules for singing. We know that a hymn can be an effective witness. Our hymn this morning points to the coming Light of Jesus Christ. It is a hymn that calls for all of us to participate as fully as possible in its singing, and which has a way for everyone to be able to do that. If you can’t sing all the words, then sing the chorus. If you can’t sing the chorus, then clap your hands. And if you can’t do all of it from the start, then jump in and do what you can when you can. We have a testimony to share to prepare the world– the King of Glory comes! FWS 2091 The King of Glory Comes