John testified concerning him.  He cried out, saying, “This is the one I spoke about when I said, ‘He who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me.’”

With all the high-stakes drama of testimony and testifying that have been playing out on the news these past few years, we could be excused if we hear this word testimony in the Bible and think about public hearings, indictments, mugshots, trials, and prison.  To our ears, testimony is a legal word, for courtrooms and lawyers.  That’s not part of daily life for most of us.  We’d really rather not get dragged into court, for any reason; even a jury summons can leave us less than thrilled.

I’m coming to think that Christianity is always on trial, out there, and maybe always has been.  We’re here tonight to remember little baby Jesus, exhausted Mary, full of wonder, attentive, staggered Joseph right there by her side . . . the shepherds, too.  Images, feelings—what really need no words of mine, just old, beloved carols.  And we all need God’s Word.  That could just be what Christmas is really about: that glorious, lovely reminder that we each stand in constant need of the blessing of God’s Word.  Then he shows up.

Each account of the Jesus story includes John’s testimony.  Now, testimony, at heart, is sharing the story of what you’ve seen, of what has happened in your presence, in your hearing.  Something you’ve heard about one person through some other person isn’t exactly testimony.  Testimony is what you know, what’s happened to you.

People were coming to John, from all over.  There hadn’t been anyone like John for a long time, about four centuries—that’d be like since 1623!  Pilgrim times, the Mayflower; a new beginning.  Everyone knew John had been sent by God.  John even dressed sort of like that famous old-time hero, the prophet Elijah.  What John was telling people sounded like things the prophets of old had said.  God was speaking to people again, His people, after what felt like a long, long silence.  It had been an awful silence.

The message of the prophets always had three parts: the prophet reminded God’s people that they were still God’s people—God still took an interest in them; God still wanted them to live together one way rather than another.  That was the first part.  The second part was that God’s people had strayed, wandered off, had stopped making God a priority, had gotten sidetracked.  Oh, the sidetrack may have seemed amusing, fun, at first, mostly harmless— everyone was doing it!—but the straying habit was not good.  The habit of going any way but God’s way only led to trouble, sorrow and trouble.  Yes, I believe you and I can testify to that, too.  The prophets were sent because God’s people had gotten themselves into trouble.  Some loved the trouble more than God.  Some loved God and the trouble.  Some loved God and didn’t know what to do about the trouble they were in: they hated the trouble, and kept getting in trouble.

So, God sent the prophets, just like John, to let God’s people know there was hope, a way back to God, to life.  That was the third part of the prophetic message.  The way to life was also the way of living, here on earth.  God was offering His very own people a way through the wilderness: map, compass, matches, provisions, and water.  Think you could get there, with those supplies?

God was offering a way.  That’s what John was telling anyone and everyone who would listen, who would hear John’s testimony and maybe begin to take it to heart, think on it, even pray about it.  We’re told that John “cried out”: he wasn’t whispering or mumbling—you know, like when you’re sort of embarrassed or don’t want to be a bother.  He cried out: the message was tearing him up, inside, because the hurt of the people was so real, and the way of help was so clear, so near.  If only people would listen!  Why don’t they?

Out there in the wilderness, John insists he’s been telling people all along about the one about to arrive.  John has one clear, consistent message.  If you’d like to splurge on yourself this Christmas, give yourself the gift of reading the Bible over the coming year, all of it, all the way through.  The New Living Translation is good.  Super giant print helps, too.  Yes, the going will be slow at times, but remind yourself of what John is saying, because it’s what the Bible is saying: the Bible has been telling us all about Jesus all along: one clear, consistent message.  One way to life in a world where we’re constantly being told any which way is okay.

He is on his way.  Oh, we can box up Christmas real pretty: pretty as a sweet little baby, asleep on the hay.  In the long history of the Church, though, Christmas and the Sundays leading up to Christmas are reminders that, just as Christ came among us once, he will come again.  He came to save, the first time; when he comes again, it will be to sit upon his throne and judge.  Without Jesus, no one will pass that judgment, no matter how nice you think you are or how kind others tell you you are.  Jesus won’t have much time for those who have made no time for him.

So Christmas is a reminder, always a celebration, and a renewed call to preparation.  John was telling anyone and everyone who would listen: I’ve told you; I’ve told you he is on his way. I’ve told you there is still time.  I’ve told you you can still prepare yourselves, get your lives in order, rearrange your priorities: you don’t have to give up everything you enjoy, except sin; you just need to start making knowing, loving, and serving God more important in your life.  Keep pushing that to the top of your list, and God will help you.  He doesn’t leave us to do the work by ourselves!  He sends help, help that really helps.

Sometimes, human help isn’t all that helpful, but the help God sends is always helpful, completely, perfectly helpful—if we’ll receive it.  John says as much when he tells people that the help God is sending is greater than John.  It seems like the first is usually the greatest, and the greatest, most often, was long ago.  Greatest president?  George Washington.  Greatest generation?  Those World War Two veterans.  Greatest quarterback?  Well, no one playing right now.  Greatest biblical king?  David.  There were many after him; none measured up to him.  Greatest biblical prophet?  Elijah.  John was great but no Elijah, and people might easily have believed that, whoever might be coming after John would necessarily be less than John—I mean, still great and all, but no John.

But John says no.  The one he’s talking about will be greater than any, greatest of all, because he existed long before John entered this life.  As one translation has it, the one who is on his way “has always had the first word.”  The one who gets the last word is the one who always had the first word to begin with.  God spoke the Word, and creation came into being.  Jesus will speak the word, and we shall each receive either the reward of a life lived for faith or the consequence of casual living with an occasional noncommittal nod towards God.

No one listening to John would be able to say, afterwards, that he or she had no idea, hadn’t known, hadn’t been told; no one could say that it was all news to them.  John’s testimony asked for a response; the Word awaits response.  God is offering you a gift from His tree: open it, take a look, try it on.