Watch for Heaven
Advent III
When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, those with a skin disease are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”
As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What, then, did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What, then, did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written, ‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’
“Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist, yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.”
Matthew 11:2-11
Last week, we got fiery John the Baptist telling everyone to repent. Today, John is in prison, and he is not so fiery. In fact, we catch John the baptist—the John, the baptist—in a moment of doubting himself. He does not ask for a sign, he does not see them, but in hearing rumors about them, he asks Jesus, “Are you the one we have been waiting for? Or was it just an elaborate prank?”
Given how close John had become to Jesus, we might understand his question as, “Jesus, you know how much I said you were He, but be honest with me—was I wrong? Am I crazy? Are you who you say you are?”
Some wonder why we might hear this story now in Advent. Remember that we are in watching season; watch and pray, watch and repent. And if you ever find yourself in your own prison like John, then you are right where Israel was and right where John was: watching for God to break into our world.
While this is the Sunday of lighting the candle of joy, sometimes called Laudate Sunday, or “Rejoicing Sunday,” it may not feel that way. Whenever we are in a season of doubt, our watching and praying are more real and urgent than any pious believer living an easily joyful life. If this is you today, you are in such a real place that only God can know it.
I imagine most of us have had some dark nights of the soul. After all, if you live in our rural area of Craftsbury, Greensboro, or Hardwick, chances are good that you lost your internet for about 30 hours last week. Truly, the horror; according to some friends with Craftsbury teenagers, this might have actually been the biggest dark night of the soul they’ve had yet. As one was reported saying, “What am I supposed to do, read?”
Kidding aside, I don’t want to dismiss that this internet outage actually was a challenging thing in our day and age; we depend on the internet (especially in a rural place) to stay connected, often using it to have any cell service. Missing a whole day without work, scrambling to find the business or a neighbor with satellite internet who suddenly became the most popular person in town, might have thrown you off your whole week. If you’re like me, it was almost cute the first night, annoying but refreshing, a chance to really put our Advent watchfulness into practice, to finally be an enlightened spiritual person. Well, if you’re like me, those plans went out the window before sunrise on Tuesday. Then, the second the internet came back, you went back to doomscrolling, wondering, “Why did I actually miss it in the first place?”
Still, in the grand scheme of things, this was pretty mild. If these are the biggest of our problems, you might be able to relate well to Medieval Advent, where they meditated each week on death, judgment, heaven, and hell.
On the other hand, if you are feeling more like John the Baptist in prison and in a dark season of life, maybe it makes complete sense why we would meditate on these things. This third week of Advent, the Medieval Church would have been meditating on heaven. This is not merely heaven as a final, far-off destination in the clouds, but the arrival of God’s reign here on earth to set things right. It may feel like nothing to watch for heaven when life is good and heaven seems all around you. But if you are going through hell, it’s everything to watch for heaven.
Maybe you are in Gaza or Ukraine or any number of places torn by violence at the hands of state powers beyond your control and beyond understanding. Maybe you are simply in a body that is failing, or in a crisis of meaning, or a crisis of usefulness when technological change makes our skills outdated, or a crisis of overwhelming forces transforming the place you love from what you can’t get back. Whatever kind of spiritual crisis you are in, they are the times when we might most be like John in jail, who has lost so much of his bravado, asking Jesus, “Are you really the guy? Or did you set me up to fail?”
Imagine seeing him in jail asking this question. Imagine proud, preaching John, brought low by doubt even as he’s hearing about signs, like he doesn’t want to let himself dare to really believe what he loudly proclaimed all that time. We don’t imagine our prophets this way, but our MLK’s and our Bonhoeffers had these moments. If they are too far-removed, imagine the most powerful, strong-willed person you know, the person who spits righteous fire and has something of the Spirit in them. You might be lucky to know someone like this as a friend, but maybe you just have a favorite thinker you consider to have a true prophetic voice. Now picture them in their quietest moments, unsure of themselves, needing a tender word and care. I am sure they have all had them.
If this is too far removed, remember yourself at your most passionate, fiery, and righteous moment, in those times where, by God, you know you’re right about something the rest of the world can’t fully see, and you really, really are right. In those moments where the fire burns bright, after the fire dies down and the world hasn’t caught your flame, it might feel like sitting in ashes as so many of Israel’s prophets did. I have a hunch that all of us, no matter how right and convicted we are, all have at least one moment where we ask our God, “Is it real? Or have I been crazy all along?”
Meanwhile, the rest of the world around us, like the rest of John’s world, didn’t want his fire. As Jesus says in the latter half of this reading (in different words), “What, did you go to see someone who told you what you wanted to hear? A wealthy, charismatic guru? Did you just want someone to make you feel good?” The world has always answered “yes.” But Jesus tells us that the Real Deal is actually here, and it is not of this world. John could only point to the signs, as John himself knew, and John was the best of the best in the old world, but there is a new world coming.
So Jesus invites his followers into a deeper vision. Jesus invited John and invites us to dare to believe, to really watch for his coming kingdom. To look for heaven especially when we are in hell, beginning with the same signs Isaiah and the prophets all saw coming.
But he also tells us that these are merely signs. A sign points to a truer Signal. That is, the signs we are looking for are not the Thing, but those things that point to the Real Thing.
Sometimes I have asked God, “Why did you make me like this? Why did you let me struggle with these sins? Why am I broken in this way?” In my darkest seasons of doubt, the question that follows these questions has sometimes been, “How will I know that you are who you say you are?” If you have asked God these questions in your own words, begin by looking for the miracles. For me, it’s a miracle that I’m here at all, the miracle that I’m married to my wonderful wife, the miracle of my sobriety, the miracle of whatever clarity I have in the midst of my greater ignorance, the miracle of so many things.
Do these miracles mean the Messiah in his fullness is fully here yet? Does it mean it’s fully time? No, and as Jesus told John and all who would listen, the fullness of His time had not yet come. Yet the signs are all around that convey the Signal. Like the Israelites in their desert, here in our winter wilderness of Vermont, we look for and follow the pillar of God’s light wherever there is darkness for us or especially for our neighbor.
You might still be in a season of darkness, at the end of your days or in the middle of something hard, where your best efforts have, like John, got you nothing but trouble. Maybe you are also asking Christ, “Was I crazy? Was it worth it?”
Jesus doesn’t say to John, or to us, I will get you out of this specific jail you are in at this specific time. After all, John dies in prison. But to our brother John and to all of us, Jesus says, “Hang on. For here are miracles happening because of me: the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are clean, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and even (and especially) the poor have the gospel. If you know what this means, you will understand how you can possibly find joy in your prison.”
Heaven is farther than we want, but nearer than we think. So keep your eyes open. Keep watch. Keep praying. And take heart, for the Lord says, “I have heard your cries, and I am with you.”
If you find yourself in prison, and the candle of joy is too dim, may you, beloved, find just enough left to lift up your heart, lift up your head, and lift up your voice. For the Lord is near. Amen.
