Always Grace

Last night this caught my eye:

"When John, who was in prison, heard about the deeds of the Messiah, he sent his disciples to ask him, 'Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?'" (Matthew 11:2)

This is JOHN. As in, The Baptist. The kid who grew up hearing his parents talk about his miraculous birth, his in utero first meeting with his cousin, Jesus, and his heavenly assignment to prepare the way for that cousin, the long-awaited Messiah   Heard those stories ad nauseam. He knew Who Jesus was.

He knew who he was, too. This Calling was his whole life. He had never tasted wine (the standard drink of the day) because of it. He lived in the desert. He battled the hypocritical religious elite and baptized and discipled the spiritually open. This preparing the way for the Christ was John's purpose. It was his whole existence. There was never a time in his life when he wasn't aware of that.

How could John possibly doubt Jesus? According to the prophecy given to his father before his birth, he was filled with the Holy Spirit from birth (a rare thing before the HS was sent at Pentecost). John himself baptized Jesus and would have been one of those who witnessed the Father's testimony that Jesus was his Son. You know, just in case the family tales and the testimony of the Holy Spirit weren't quite convincing enough. Earlier in his ministry, John testified to his followers that Jesus was the Christ. John knew.

And yet.

"Are you Him?"

In general, the Jews were looking for an earthly king, not a heavenly one. Maybe John, sitting is his prison cell, was thinking that now's a great time for Jesus to flex his political muscle, and get his cousin out of prison before he's executed? That seems like a fair expectation. After all, we consider family loyalty a virtue.

It's funny what fear does to us. And the combination of fear, time to think, and unmet expectation? That's deadly stuff, right there. That's the perfect formula for doubt. For bitterness. Despair. It can cause us to question things we've known since we were kids. Things we've believed without hesitation our whole lives.

Suddenly, in the darkness of fear, things look different. Unfamiliar. Unsafe.

Jesus himself said of John (AFTER he got the message of John's questions), "Truly I tell you, among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist..." (Matthew 11:11)  

Do I think John lost his faith and recanted? Nope. I think in a moment of despair, he asked an honest question of his Savior.

"Lord? That's you, right? I know it is, but the light is playing tricks on my eyes. I just need some reassurance. I need to hear you say it."

And reassurance is exactly what Jesus sent back. Here's the message:

"Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me." (Matthew 11:4-6)

No shaming. No reprimand. No incredulity. Just grace.

And that, kids, is why this whole thing is encouraging to me. There is always grace. Even if you should know better. Even if your family tree is rife with those whose faith puts yours to shame.  

For the strongest and the weakest among us (because when you come right down to it, we are one and the same) there is always grace.

Grace to reassure us of things we used to know. But forgot in the dark.

Always grace.