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I want to tell you about a title I had in high school.

Picture a 5'6" and a half, scrawny, 110 pound kid with long curly hair down to his collar bone. Got it?

The nickname was Frodo.

Do you know what I did to earn that nickname? Nothing. The last Lord of the Rings movie had come out about two years before I started high school, and people thought I looked like Frodo. Once the first person said it, it stuck. Not everyone called me that, but several did, for four years straight.

And then years later, at a close friend's wedding where I was playing guitar, I was standing at the entrance to the sanctuary before the ceremony started. Back turned to the front door, talking to another friend. I heard a voice that sounded familiar: "FROOOODOOOO!!!"

I turned around. It was my economics teacher from five years before, who was now photographing weddings on the side. Had I seen him since high school? Not once. Hundreds of students later, and he still recognized me from behind by that name.

Nicknames can stick.

But when John the Baptist saw Jesus walking toward him at the Jordan River, the title he shouted wasn't a joke or a coincidence. "Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world." That wasn't something John invented. It was the thread running through all of Scripture, from Abraham on Mount Moriah to the Passover lamb in Exodus to the suffering servant of Isaiah 53, who was led like a lamb to the slaughter. God had been pointing toward this title for centuries. And when the moment came, John named what he saw.

Frodo was just someone's observation about my hair. This was God's designation for His Son. And the weight of those two things couldn't be further apart.

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