Many years ago, back before I was a pastor and prior to being married, I was able to participate in a study institute in Strasbourg, France which focused on Christian apologetics. I was a young man with a limited understanding of the world or history and was just beginning to get my feet wet in the realm of theology. So, I often look back on that trip as one in which I did not fully appreciate the things I was able to see and do. But still, there were moments of the trip that were dramatic for me, instances which impacted, in unusual ways, the direction of my life. For instance, after our first full week of study, we took a field trip to a little, picturesque French village. On the way, we stopped at a museum inside an old convent. At this time in my life, I did not know anything about the museum and, in fact, did not really care for museums in the first place. But in this gallery was a famous piece from the German Renaissance painter Mathias Gruenwald. It was a massive altarpiece that depicted the crucifixion of our Lord.

So, at all of 21 years old and mostly ignorant of paintings such as this, when I stood in front of it, I was completely captivated. His depiction of the crucifixion is unlike any I have ever seen. I stood there for longer than I have ever stood before anything in a museum, either before or since. Many of the details I can still see quite clearly, the bending of the crossbeam, the open sores, the hands stretched in agony. It was a lot to take in. One of the things that really stood out was the image of John the Baptist. Off to the right of Jesus, he is pictured with an outstretched arm and a long-pointed finger, as if when your eyes drifted toward him, he immediately pointed you back to the Christ. Behind him, in Latin, were the words, “He must increase, but I must decrease.” I later learned this is a common depiction of the Baptist. He is the one pointing his finger, directing our eyes to the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. John’s role is to reorient us away from anything which is not Jesus, so we can focus solely on our Lord.

John the Baptist is a featured character in all four Gospel narratives. He clearly has a significant role to play in the development of the account of our Lord’s advent. But you really must love how Saint Mark begins his story. The opening line is, “The beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Here it is. Right out of the gate you are told you are going to hear the good news about the Son of God who is immediately identified as Jesus Christ. Then, following the opening line, you are directed not to Jesus, but to John the Baptist. In fact, you are directed to the fulfillment of the Word of God. “Behold, I send My messenger before your face, who will prepare Your way, the voice of one crying in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make His paths straight,’” The Gospel begins by reaching back to the prophet Isaiah, and through Isaiah leads us to John who suddenly appears in the wilderness. And what do we find John doing? Proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.

Then we are told people are flooding out to see John. The text says, “All the country of Judea and all Jerusalem were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.” Of course, it may partially be hyperbole, but imagine what this was like, the massive movement of people going out to the Jordan to confess their sins. The scene amounts to an immense recognition of sin. From that comes a cry for hope, deliverance, and salvation. It seems remarkably similar to the crowds on Palm Sunday who shouted, “Hosanna!” Save us, O Lord. In this way these crowds are us. They are a people awakened to the sin which pulls them down and drowns them in rebellion to God. So, Mark’s gospel begins with the preaching of repentance and the promise of forgiveness.

But as soon as this strange character comes into focus, as we take in the unusual clothing, the camel’s hair, the leather belt tied around his waist, eating a strange diet of locus and wild honey, the moment we begin to wonder about John and his true identity, John reorients us toward the real purpose of his arrival. He is the one pointing toward another. He is the one who arrives to bear witness to the coming of the Son of God. He says, “After me comes He who is mightier than I, the strap of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. I have baptized you with water, but He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” This voice in the wilderness is the signpost which points out the mightier One, the One who will do far more than wash you with water. John turns us toward the advent of the Son of God.

In this way, perhaps, John the Baptist is the best example of what it is to preach the Good News. He is a living picture of the life of the Church itself. He reorientates broken and lost sinners. He turns them from their own destruction to the advent of Jesus. It has been said that the heart of man is an idol factory. In our rebellion against the Word of God, in our desire to be like God Himself, we have turned in toward ourselves, toward our own wisdom, strength, and self-ascribed meaning. In this way, we create an endless stream of gods. They are the things we turn toward for meaning, security, and identity in this life. They are all the things you fear, love, or trust more than God. But do not brush this aside. You are not beyond idolatry. Think through what defines you. What is the essence of who you are? What are the things you hold on to because you believe they will keep you safe and secure? Is it your money, your finances, your 401k? Is it your reputation, your job, your family?

Of course, our idols are not always objectively bad or terrible things. In fact, for you they may even be good things, points others would praise you for. Yes, perhaps that is the real rub, how you ultimately make a god out of your works of faith, your dedication to the Church, or your acts of service to your neighbor. What began as a wonderful deed on your part has slowly become a means for securing your own salvation, for climbing toward Heaven, for overcoming your own sin. But that is just it, you cannot overcome your sin. Try as you may, the sin is always greater than your good deeds. As Jesus will say later, it is “what proceeds from the heart that defiles a person.” So, we begin to learn that these gods of our own making fail us. They cannot deliver. They cannot save. And when our gods fail, our world is torn apart. Everything is uncertain. There is only confusion, darkness, and fear. I am sure you have been there, in that place where all you thought you knew no longer applied, where your strength and wisdom have reached their end, and you are forced to confess how there is no salvation in yourself.

When I stood in that museum all those years ago, I paused before an image of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Every time my focus shifted away, John’s long finger pointed me back toward my Savior. Now, I am not saying God spoke to me there or I had a divine revelation. But it was during this time that I began to first contemplate becoming a pastor. I was certainly unworthy of doing such a thing. I am a sinner through and through with a well-primed idol factory of my own. But I imagined that perhaps I could do the thing John was doing, point others to the source, to the fount from which life and light flows for sinners like me.

In fact, is this not what we all do as the people of God? Is this not the ongoing role of the Church in our world today? We are sinners, through and through. We are not going to be perfect or sinless. No doubt we will continue to find creative was to turn our best things into our newest gods. But we gather here to be reoriented, turned away from ourselves, from our own deeds to the Good News of the Son of God. We are turned to a gift purchased by the pure and holy blood of the Lamb, to a promise made sure in the death and resurrection of Christ our Lord. And directed toward Christ alone, we hear the incredible proclamation that you are not forsaken. You are not cut off. In fact, you are loved. You are welcome. You are forgiven for all your sins.