Our reading today begins with the words, “the next day.” It follows directly on from last week’s reading in which John the Baptist is questioned by the Pharisees as to his identity.
“Who are you?” They ask
“I am not the Messiah.” He says.
And so they asked him, “What then? Are you Elijah?”
“I am not.” He said,
“Are you the prophet?” They ask trying again,
“No.” John says emphatically.
As we reflected on last week John the Baptist—the first great witness to Jesus—goes to extraordinary lengths to make sure people understand first and foremost who he is not.
He begins his ministry from a place of deep humility. He claims no identity that isn’t his. He makes no promises of comfort or ease. He simply points — again and again — to the one who is greater than himself.
This matters both for us as individuals and for us as the church. We must be ever discerning what is God’s work, and what is our work —and resist the temptation to confuse the two. We must not expect God to do what we are called to do, nor attempt to take on what only God can do.
From that place of clarifying who John is not, today’s reading—set on “the next day”—begins to show us more clearly who John is.
As we read, John sees Jesus coming toward him and says, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! He then tells the story of the Spirit appearing like a dove, on Jesus. And at the moment hearing the words, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’
I love this image of the Spirit appearing like a dove.
This week -as I have been thinking and praying for Daniel and his Baptism today – at Anthwerrke/Emily Gap, a special place to many in this community especially the Arrenrte people – I’ve been reflecting on how God continues to speak through creation. As many of you know I try to begin each day walking my dog in the trails around Eastside. I love those paths so much and I am going to miss them (thankfully Salisbury does have some as well). It’s there, walking in creation, that I often feel most attentive to God’s presence—most open to guidance and clarity.
God speaks through Scripture, through community, through the sacraments—and also through the world God has made.
Anyway, you may have noticed in this version of events John says nothing about actually baptising Jesus. It actually says nothing about Jesus and John interacting at all, although no doubt they did. I cannot imagine these cousins just ignored each other.
Some commentaries make a big deal about this, asking whether, in John’s Gospel, Jesus was really baptised by John at all.
I would say yes, it’s just that this Gospel focuses not on the event itself, but on John’s testimony about it. And in his testimony, John does what he always does: he shifts the focus away from himself and onto Jesus.
That is what John does. He testifies to Jesus, as he put it in today’s reading, “I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed.”
As I said last week Baptism is not about the human one who baptises. It is not even primarily about the person being baptised. It is about Jesus — about what he has done, what he is doing, and what he will do. Baptism does not give us salvation; it reveals the salvation that has always been ours, and the one who gives it. Baptism is God’s work. It is what he is doing in us, not what we are doing for him.
And so our work—and Daniel, I hope you’re listening especially carefully here, though this is for all of us—is the same as John the Baptist’s: to testify to that baptism. To live in a way that points to what God has done and is doing in our lives.
Now, I’m not saying we all need to start door-knocking. But there is a lot of conversation right now about a quiet revival, a surprising reawakening of spiritual hunger—particularly among younger generations. There is talk of an anxious and lonely generation longing for connection, purpose, meaning, and safety in a world that often feels overwhelming. Many are disillusioned with materialism and with the promises of new atheism, which in many ways have failed to deliver. They are looking for something I have often called older, deeper, and wiser than themselves.
And many are finding that in Christianity – that is indeed good news.
But I’m also cautious. Because some are finding that sense of belonging and meaning in a Christianity that has been coopted by certain political or cultural movements. Movements that are angry, inward-looking, and more focused on power and exclusion than on sharing the expansive and generous love of God. Movements that point more to leaders than to Jesus.
In this context, the church—and the people in it, which is us—need more than ever to be clear witnesses to the actual way of Jesus. Witnesses in our words, and in our lives. In how we treat one another. In how we love the world. Witnesses to the story of Jesus—his life, death, and resurrection—for us.
The reading continues, again with the words, “the next day.” John is standing with two of his disciples. Jesus walks by, and John says again, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!”
And John’s two disciples leave him and follow Jesus. Notice that John does not try to hold onto his disciples. He does not compete for loyalty or influence. He is not interested in building his own Kingdom. He is interested in Jesus’.
And when Jesus sees them, he turns around and asks, “What are you looking for?”
It is a question for every generation. When we come to Jesus, what are we actually seeking? Are we looking for him—or for something else?
The disciples dodge the question, perhaps because they don’t quite know how to answer. Instead, they ask their own: “Where are you staying?” It’s more than a question about accommodation. They are asking what life with Jesus might look like.
And Jesus responds, “come and see.”
And so they go and they see. We’re not told what they see, but whatever it is, it’s enough. Within hours, Andrew goes to find his brother Simon and declares, “We have found the Messiah.”
Like John, Andrew becomes a witness.
This was the work of Jesus’ first followers—and it remains our work today.
As we said last week: our work is not to be the light. Our work is to see the light. To trust that it shines in the darkness—and that the darkness has not, and will not, overcome it. And finally, our work is to witness to that light. To carry it gently into dark places—not by replacing Christ, but by pointing faithfully toward him.
We are going to listen to a song now, this is a song Daniel requested. It’s a different style to what we usually sing, but that’s a gift: learning to love and understand one another through what matters to us.
I have listened to it a couple of times now. Daniel probably wouldn’t believe it but I was quite into rap & R&B music in the nineties, which I still think is the high point of the genre. Anyway, there’s a line in this song that stayed with me this week, as I think it captures much of what we’ve reflected on today:
“Give me unlimited vision to see through the counterfeit, I want the realest
Where He come from. . . I can’t fight it, let Your light come shine on me.”
