by Gene Edwards
The caravans slowed and formed into a circle around the man. Every soul strained to hear what this man had to say.
And what these desert travelers heard resonated with their own deepest feelings. At the same moment, his words convicted each of them. Everything the man spoke was unnerving. What he predicted was impossible, but what he demanded was even more incredulous. John was not only demanding radical change from his hearers, but he was demanding it right there, right then.
No one, they were sure, would take this man seriously.
The caravans would move on, but others would come; and they, too, would stop and listen. And each caravan, when at last it exited the desert, carried with it the reports of a madman or prophet out in the desert, preaching to all who dared paused to hear.
“Why does he not come into the villages to proclaim his message? Does he not know all respectable prophets preach in the marketplaces where people can hear them? Does the fool think people are going to go out there in that infernal hell to hear him? What person in his right mind is going to that pathless wilderness and standing beneath the blistering sun to listen to a man make demands no one is going to respond to. He is mad, all right.”
Yet it happened. Some in the caravans, on their return voyage, would search out the desert prophet. Common folk in villages on the edge of the desert made their way out to hear him. Seeking hearts, empty souls, hungry spirits—desperately longing for something they knew they did not have—dared to take their empty lives into that uncharted wasteland to find The Prophet.
At first only a few heard him, but they came back to tell their friends of what they had experienced. Rumors about this wildman spread throughout all of Judea and Galilee.
Listeners came first in ones and twos, then by scores and hundreds, and then by thousands. They came on foot, across burning sands. Their numbers grew daily. Some enterprising men were soon scheduling whole caravans into the desert to hear this man.
They all listened. Some wept. Others fell earnestly to their knees. Many cried out in loud voices for undeserved forgiveness. Others cheered. No one jeered. Not a critical word came from any mouth, at least not among the common people.
Yet those who never heard him, who lived in the far-off city of Jerusalem . . . they judged him, tried him, and convicted him . . . without having seen nor heard him. The verdict was simple. And familiar. It is laid on every nonconformist of every age. “He has a demon.”
A few came and sat down right at his feet. Their purpose was clear: These men wished to be John’s disciples. And so it came to be.
This handful of disciples would take on John’s lifestyle and become his constant companions. Like him, they would become austere, grave, and humorless men. They would carry within their hearts, as he did in his, the burden of the sins of Israel. These men joined John in his titanic task of preparing the way for the coming of God’s own Messiah.
To hear John was to hear the unexpected, for each day was different. Each day John spoke, and each time he spoke he addressed something the crowd had never heard anyone else say. His daring, his fearlessness in broaching any topic, awed the multitude and his disciples.
On one particularly hot day, when the crowds seemed to stretch to the horizon, John cried out, “The day after the next Sabbath I will go to the Jordan River. There I will immerse beneath the Jordan waters all who have repented of their way of life. I will immerse all who make their lives ready for the coming of the Lord.”
It was on that day John received a new name, a name which was soon to be on the lips of all Israel, for on that day he became known as John the Immerser.
Chapter 6
People came to hear John because they were seeking something to fill a deep vacancy in their lives.
Merchants came to hear him and repented of their business practices and were then baptized in the fabled waters of the Jordan. Soldiers came, repented of their brutality, and were baptized. The camel drivers came, the farmers, the rustic fishermen, housewives, women of renown, women of the streets, all kinds and all classes came. And all who came, it seemed, came holding some secret sin, repented thereof, and disappeared beneath the Jordan waters.
Every Jew knew the ancient meaning of a soul’s being plunged beneath the water of that particular river. It meant the end of life, the cessation of everything. Everyone awaiting baptism stood on the eastern bank, which was a foreign land. There they stepped into the water and disappeared . . . there to die. But each came up out of the water and stepped onto the western bank, safe within the border of the Promised Land, there to begin a new life with God. This simple drama was unforgettable.
There was one particular day at the Jordan that stood out from all others. It began with the arrival of horse-drawn carriages. A delegation of dignitaries had arrived. What important personages had come out to this obscure place?
It was the nation’s religious leaders.
When John saw these costumed men, every muscle in his body became motionless. There was not one outer movement on his countenance to betray his inward feelings. As these religious dignitaries cut through the crowd, John watched as ordinary people dropped their heads or genuflected in a gesture of honor. This did not at all set well with the greatest nonconformist of all time.
John read every man as he stepped out of the carriages. Some had obviously come to sneer, to gather evidence against John, and to condemn. Others came with a great deal of uncertainty, hoping to discover for themselves whether or not John was a true prophet. There were even a few among them, the youngest, who came truly believing that John was a man of God. These young men hoped the older, more respected leaders might agree with their unspoken opinion. After all, if the older leaders gave their blessing to John, some of the young men knew they would be free to become his disciples.
But John saw more than this. He looked in the heart of every man now making his way through the midst of the crowd, and discerned the ultimate weakness of each one. There was not one among them brave enough, on his own, to break with accepted religious traditions.
The crowd continued giving way before these vaunted leaders. The delegation was on its way to the front of the crowd, to take their rightful place of honor. This was more than the desert prophet could ever hope to stomach. The religious system of his day, coming here? And daring to impose their abominable practices here? How dare they come! How dare they bring their arrogance, contempt, disdain, and pride to this place!
John had not come to this earth to compromise, nor to win over such men to the ways of God. After all, these men saw themselves as authorities in God’s ways. John would not attempt to do the impossible: He would not call the leaders of the religious system to come out of that system. Yet the presence of these men was perverting the freedom that the baptized ones had gained as they laid aside the systemization of this world.
John, therefore, declared war. Open, unbridled, unquartered war . . . on Israel’s most revered personages. He wanted every human being present to know how he felt about the chains that traditionalists had forged upon the hearts and souls of God’s people. And just how did he feel? He felt this whole religious culture must perish.
There was nothing John could do better than thunder, and on this occasion he roared like a lion. Thrusting out the forefinger of one hand, he shattered earth and heaven with his denunciation.
“Who . . . who, I ask . . . who told you to repent?
“You nest of snakes, what are you doing here?”
The crowd was stunned. No one had ever talked this way to these men. Many in the crowd instinctively rose to their feet; after a moment, wide grins began to appear on the faces of some. But every eye was now riveted on the religious leaders. What would be their reaction? And, was it possible . . . had John committed some kind of blasphemy? The people knew the rumors about John being possessed of a demon; this was not going to help. They loved him for his boldness, yet no one ever dreamed he would take on the religious leaders of their nation. No one did that!
Shock turned to disbelief as John continued.
“I ask you again, you nest of snakes, who told you to turn away from the wrath that is coming on you?”
The religious leaders stopped. No one could speak to them in this way. After a brief moment, one of the leaders pulled his cloak up about him, turned, and whispered something to those nearest him. They, in turn, signaled to the others to make a sudden retreat.
But John was not finished.
“Your tree! An axe has been laid to your tree. The wrath of God is upon you. The axe will cut down your tree and destroy its root. The day is not far when all that you are shall be destroyed under the wrath of God.”
With that the delegation, as one, gathered up their outer robes and hurried back toward their carriages, each devising in his heart some form of vengeance to take against John.
Someone in the crowd began to cheer. Someone else clapped. With that, the whole multitude stood and took up the applause. Everywhere men and women felt shackles falling from their souls. At last, someone had dared to challenge the religious system!
Spontaneously, the multitude moved toward John. It seemed that every soul present who had not been baptized wanted very much to do so now. They had all, as one, glimpsed something deeper of John’s message, something they had never understood before.
It was a glorious day. Yet no one seemed to have laid hold of the obvious. Conduct like this would get John killed.
And then there was that other very memorable day.
Chapter 7
The door from the other realm opened, like a window, just over the Jordan River. Out from the very center of the being of God the Father came forth His own sacred Spirit, the Holy Spirit, somewhat as a dove might, fluttering out through the open door and coming to rest on one of the spectators who was listening to John speak.
John’s eyes scanned the crowed, his fierce gaze catching every face. What was that? A light of unnatural origin, appearing out of nowhere, like a dove flying out of a window and coming to rest on someone out there in the crowd.
John realized he was seeing what no other eye could see. This was the sign of the Messiah. John fell silent. His only thought was, “Where landed the lighted dove? Who is out there?”
Murmuring whispers swept across the crowd. Many followed John’s searching gaze.
Spontaneously, John roared,
“Behold the Lamb of God!
“I am nothing. This man is everything. Look no more to me; look to him. As for me, I am not even worthy to stoop down and unlatch the sandals that are on the feet of this one.”
The Father seemed to agree. Standing in the door between the two realms, He called out.
“This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.”
And as God was pleased, so John was pleased. Nor did it bother John as he watched the multitudes forsake him and begin to follow Jesus. After all, John knew he had come into the world for this very reason.
What John did not know was that the easiest days of his work were now behind him. The harder were yet to come.
Chapter 8
“Tell me of my cousin,” asked John.
“Presently he is in Galilee. He, like you, has twelve disciples; there are also others, perhaps fifty or sixty more, who are always with him. He travels from town to town preaching.”
The voice was that of Nadab, a follower of John’s who had been in Galilee and witnessed Jesus’ ministry.
“On occasions he speaks to large multitudes of people, but most of the time he speaks in someone’s home.”
“What does he speak about?”
“He mostly tells stories. And many of them have a great deal of humor in them.”
Nadab paused. “Teacher, did you know he drinks? I mean, he drinks wine! And the twelve, his twelve, they are not like us. They laugh a lot.
“He receives many invitations to banquets. It seems he always accepts. Some say he eats too much and drinks too much or, at least, that his disciples do.”
John’s interest was intent, but his demeanor betrayed no evidence of his inward thoughts. Not one person present had the slightest idea what he thought of Nadab’s report. It was a trait of John’s that dated back to his childhood.
Nadab continued. “The people he keeps company with are mostly tax collectors, whores, and . . . well, people like that.”
One of John’s other disciples broke in with an observation. “Teacher, we have fasted almost to the point of starvation. We have prayed until our knees were sore. We follow your example in these things. You fast, you spend your life in prayer, you live a life of great restraint and discipline in all things. Your cousin tells stories, talks of lilies and birds, seeds and sheep, goes to banquets where he eats and drinks. He seems, in general, to be enjoying himself enormously. Some have even called him a drunkard and a glutton. Can you understand why some of us are a little confused?”
After a long pause, it became clear that John would not respond. Finally John took a deep breath and stood. “The people are waiting, and I have something important to say to them.”
John walked out into the midst of the gathered multitude and mounted a large stone. It was late afternoon. A cool breeze from the Sea of Galilee was blowing across the field. The sun was setting, and as it did, it bugled enormous golden rays across the sky.
John looked out across the people and called his heart to remember again his life’s task: to bring Israel to full repentance, to level mountains, fill in the valleys, and prepare the way for God’s final and greatest work upon the earth.
“Our king,” cried John, “has taken unto himself his brother’s wife. Herod has brought down the wrath of God upon himself. Nor will his wife Herodias be spared.”
It would be no later than the next morning when Herod the Tetrarch would hear of John’s denunciation. And when Herod heard, he went into a rage. But his rage was nothing compared to that of his new wife, for she vowed the darkest possible vengeance upon John the Baptizer. And in that craving for revenge, she screamed to her husband that John be arrested and thrown into a dungeon. Immediately! Nor did that mark the end of her wicked scheme.
Chapter 9
Protheus looked up to see the cause of the noise at the top of the stairs. He could make out the shadow of a prisoner standing between two Roman guards. Slowly, laboriously, the shackled prisoner made his way down the long, narrow stairwell.
Protheus could not help but think to himself, “I always imagined you to be a giant of a man; yet here, in this place, you seem in every way to be so ordinary. You appear . . . almost vulnerable.”
The prisoner now came into full view. Protheus searched John’s face, but like so many others, he could find not a single clue in this man’s demeanor as to what his thoughts were. Was he afraid? anxious? hostile? Protheus was accustomed to being able to read a prisoner’s emotions at this particular moment. But today this prisoner provided him nothing.
Protheus turned to one of the soldiers behind him.
“Cell three.”
The soldier opened the iron-gated door; just beyond the grating, the cell dropped off into a pit some twelve feet deep. One of the soldiers was about to tie a rope around one of the bars and let himself down into the pit. Protheus interrupted.
“One moment. I will chain the prisoner.” With that, Protheus turned to the two Roman guards and motioned for them to unshackle the prisoner. He then walked over to the cell door and let himself down into the rat-infested pit.
The place was dark, wet, and everything else that a dungeon was supposed to be. Protheus called up to the guards. “Step back from the prisoner.
“John, let yourself down here by that rope.” John slipped the rope between his hands and lowered himself into the infernal pit.
“These chains fastened to the wall—I must clamp them to your feet and hands. The chains are long enough to allow you some movement. They are ordered from Herod. I am sorry to do this. You will remain in this prison until he decides what to do with you.”
For several moments Protheus labored at the task of bolting the iron manacles around John’s wrists and ankles. When finished, he stepped back.
“Three of your disciples have asked to see you. They will be allowed to come next week. I understand they are bringing you some food.”
Protheus grabbed the rope and was about to pull himself up. He paused, turned, and looked at John full on. “I have heard you speak in the wilderness. I regret . . .”
“It is all right,” replied John. “The guilt is not yours.”
With that Protheus pulled himself up to the floor above, closed the cell door, and addressed all the soldiers on duty.
“Listen to me. Within whatever bounds that damnable cell affords, you make this man comfortable; supply him with food and water and whatever else he needs. Meet his needs to the limits of the restrictions Herod has placed upon him. One more thing. I have clearly posted John’s name on the wall beside his cell door. I want every man in this room to remember who it is in that pit.”
A voice called out from the first cell. “What did you say? Have they brought John the Baptist to this place?”
Protheus sighed. He and every other man in the room knew what was coming next.
Chapter 10
“Herod did it, didn’t he? That damnable monster.
“John, is that you? Do you remember me? I was with you when you were but a child. Oh, I was a man of greatness then. Look at me now!
“Herod took my home; he took my money. Without a trial, without even a hearing! Then he threw me in this hellhole. Now Herod is the one who is rich! Rich on my wealth, and I am but a wretch. I swear a curse upon you, Herod . . . you monster . . . wicked man.
“I served him twenty years. Faithfully. No man has ever lived who has been so unjustly treated as I. It is unfair what he did, I tell you. Now look what that heinous man has done; the ogre has gone out and brought a prophet of God to this cursed place.