My son and his wife live in a five-level townhouse in Reston, Virginia. You enter into a kind of combination corridor and stairwell at the second level. Typically I turn right when I arrive and go into the kitchen area. But when I leave that level to go to another one, I walk out of that kitchen and into that corridor and get a jolt. I get a shock. Every single time.
And why? Because just across from the kitchen door but a little offset from it they have placed a floor-to-ceiling mirror. The intent is to bring more light into that area so that the stairs can be seen more easily. The intent is to increase the light that already comes from other sources. That’s the intent.
But what happens is that I walk out of that kitchen door, angle toward that mirror, somehow thinking that there is more space there, and I get a jolt and a shock because what confronts me is me! My image, life-size, coming right at me where somehow my eyes and my brains have told me there is more space than there really is. Every time I go there the same thing happens; and if you tell me that the definition of stupidity is trying the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result, well, then, I plead guilty to stupidity. I cannot get it into my thick skull, when I leave my son’s kitchen, that that space across from me is not space and that that fellow coming at me is only me, my image. Somehow I cannot remember that it was all done simply to bring in more light.
There are some important lessons to be learned from my son’s hallway mirror. There are some lessons about who we are, who we are not, and what it means to point to the light.
“There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.”
The old artists used to paint John the Baptist with an extra-long forefinger, just right for pointing. Just before Jesus began His public ministry, John began directing others to Him who would be the light of the world. John did not pretend to be that light, he did not pose as the truth that others needed to know. He pointed to the light, nothing more and nothing less. John did not confuse his own image with the real thing, and yet he also did not hold back from doing what he was meant to do, to point to the light.
Our culture is very success-oriented. We prize those who make it big, even when they are the ones telling us they are larger than life. We think highly of those who achieve prominence and then hire public relations people to puff that prominence. Among preachers, we even have a mock Scripture reference to justify self-promotion; have you ever heard of Hezekiah 1:1, which reads, “Whosoever tooteth not his own horn, the same shall not be tooted?”
We seem to value giant egos. But we are like me, bumping into my own image across the corridor, frightened out of my wits for a split second, because I have been exposed as phony by that which points to the light. We need to learn from John, who is not the light but who is pointing to the light. We need to learn who we are and who we are not; but we can still point to the light.
I
You see, the first mistake my mind makes when I head for that glossy glass is to assume there is some space there that is not really there. The mirror creates the illusion of depth, and I am suckered in and walk straight at it, when I should be following a much narrower path. Stupid as it sounds, I cannot keep it in my mind that the corridor is only about four feet wide and not some kind of superhighway. So I plunge across the hall toward what I think is a large space until, that is, it dawns on me that I cannot do that. I must go as the path dictates and as the light shines, and not as I suppose I want to go. Something is there that points to the light, and I need to follow that and not the illusion of a large space.
John the Baptist, from the days of his childhood, was meant to do this ministry of pointing. His birth is told in Luke’s Gospel with just as much of the mysterious and the miraculous about it as is the story of the birth of Jesus. John was no accident, and he knew it. But John also knew that he was not the Christ, he was not the one for whom the world had been waiting, he was not that light. John had learned just to do what God had intended him to do, to point to the light, and not try to be something else.
Some of us waste our energies trying to be what we are not. We work at building up our resumes and burnishing our images. Some of us have not learned that joy lies in living with integrity and in fulfilling faithfully the tasks that are truly ours. I know of people who are always angling for the next job, with a higher salary and a more titillating title at a more prestigious place. They will not do the work they are supposed to do now because they are forever scoping out some advancement. They think there is more space than there really is.
John the Baptist did not look for more space; he chose to be who he was, he elected to do what God intended him to do, and to do it well. Happy are those who do what they are called to do and who do not pretend to be something else.
When I was pastor at Takoma Park, I took great pride in seeing folks join our church. I was glad to have you come no matter who you were, even if you were a ditch-digger; but I was really glad to have you if you were somebody as the world defines somebodies. One Saturday night I went to visit a couple who had attended our worship and had expressed interest – and you know if I am visiting you on Saturday night, you are really somebody, because that is normally sermon time on which none dare encroach. Just a quick hint: if you are going to die, do not die on Saturday night! I’m busy! But this was a young cardiologist and his wife – charming people, capable people, and making professions of faith. I started to fantasize about the baptism, “I now baptize you, DOCTOR …” And when the couple came forward the next morning, I gleefully announced them as new members and said something about his being a cardiologist. Well, the next Sunday they didn’t show up. And when a deacon was assigned to visit them, she said, “I think you need to talk with these folks again.” I called; his wife said, “He was really upset that you identified what he does. It’s not only that he doesn’t want people asking for free medical advice. It’s also that he just doesn’t want to be put on a pedestal.” The end of the story is that this couple ended up joining another church, where they still give significant leadership, and so it was not a loss to the Kingdom. But did I ever learn something at the expense of my church! I learned from someone who was just beginning his Christian walk that my job was not to point to me or to my supposed achievements or to my church. My job is just to point to the light and let it shine.
The first mistake the mind makes when one heads for the mirror in the corridor is to imagine that there is more space than there really is. The first mistake the human heart makes is to imagine that we have accomplished more than we really have, that our achievements measure our worth, when all along we should be watching the light, pointing to the light.
John the Baptist, you had it right; you are not the light, you are not the Christ, you are not the promised one. And neither are we. Whatever degrees we have, whatever accomplishments, whatever credentials, they came from God, and are intended for us to use to point to the light.
II
But the second mistake the mind makes is a more subtle one. The second mistake the mind makes when one looks in the mirror is to be startled at who you see there, and deeper than that – to be unhappy with who you see there.
It happens every time. I walk out of that kitchen into that dimly lighted corridor. I know that it is dimly lighted. I know that there is a full-length mirror there to catch the light and project it. I know all of that and still, wham! I find myself face-to-face with an image of some aging overweight guy with straggly hair and cockeyed spectacles, and for an instant I want to put up my dukes and defend myself. Look at that guy! What a mess he is! I don’t like your looks, mister!
And then I recognize that it’s me. Just grizzly old me, as I really am. And I do not entirely like what I see. After I have realized that the mirror has fooled me once more, I square my shoulders, I suck in my gut, I smooth my hair and adjust my glasses, hoping that I can improve on the image. Sorry, not much change. Sorry, you had better accept it that that is just who you are.
And guess what: it’s all right. Whoever you are, you can point to the light. You may not think you are equipped or attractive or ready, but I tell you, there is somebody who can hear the witness you offer, there is somebody who can see the light if you point to it. You are the agent of light for someone, somewhere.
They asked John, “’Are you Elijah?’ He said, ‘I am not.’ ‘Are you the prophet?’ He answered, ‘No.’ Then they said to him, ‘Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?’ He said, ‘I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, “Make straight the way of the Lord.”’”
John knew who he was not and also knew who he was. Nothing stopped him from doing what he needed to do. John knew who he was not and who he was, and answered the call of God. I am not the Christ, I am not Elijah, I am not the prophet you expect; I am just John, out here in rags and tags, and I don’t look so good or smell so great. But I have something to say, and it is from God.
You see, my mind makes a subtle mistake when I head for that mirror. At first I don’t recognize my own image, but when I do, I don’t like what I see, and I try to hide the reality. Squared shoulders, sucked-in gut, smoothed hair, straightened spectacles, all to no avail. I still am not happy with what I see. But that’s not the issue. That’s really irrelevant. The question is not what I look like but whether I can now see my way. The issue is not my appearance or my self-image but that light has come and I can point the way.
When I talk with people about sharing their faith – about pointing to the light we know in Jesus – I hear them say that they are not ready to do that. I hear us saying, “I’m not comfortable sharing my faith. This is a world where people will tear you apart if you do that.” That’s true. And it was that kind of world for John the Baptist too. The little delegation from Jerusalem made it pretty hot for John, but he screwed his courage to the sticking place and spoke his mind. You and I may look in the mirror and see timid souls who do not have much courage. But just be faithful and trust God for the consequences. Point to the light and the courage will come.
I hear us saying, “I don’t know enough. I am not well versed in the Bible and I cannot answer all the questions.” Well, right; most of us have trouble with that. But the scholars tell us that John the Baptist probably spent time with the Essene community, in the company of others who did know their faith, and John learned. You and I may look in the mirror and see that we do not know a whole lot of Scripture or have any theological sophistication, but we do have learning opportunities – we have Sunday School and Adult Journey and small group Bible studies. We can become equipped for witness, and we can share what we know now, even while we are learning more. Point to the light and the pointing itself will teach you.
And most of all I hear people saying, “I just don’t have an attractive personality. I’m too quiet, too shy, I don’t draw people to myself. So I don’t really even have any opportunities to witness.” I understand. I have told you that I know first-hand what it is to be painfully introverted, something I see every time I look in that mirror. But our friend John the Baptist knew how to point beyond himself, “Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.”
You cannot feel much more lowly about yourself than that – unworthy to untie shoestrings. But John, even with that lowly self-image, knowing who he was but also whose he was, just got out there and pointed to the light anyway. It can be done. It must be done. And you and I, no matter what our self-image may be, can point others to Christ. We can and we must.
When you look in the mirror and what you see is not what you want, remember that if God used somebody like John the Baptist, clad in camel’s hair, and munching locusts and wild honey, thinking of himself as not even worthy to untie shoestrings – if God can use a mess like John, He can surely empower you and me. Point to the light. Do it. Just suck in the gut and do it.
III
And one more thing I have learned, there in my son’s hallway, in front of his big old truth-telling illusion. Not only have I learned that there is not as much space as I thought there was – that is, that I need to follow God’s path and not a life path I have fantasized. And not only have I learned that the man in the mirror really is me, like it or not, and I’d better learn to use what I have and not fret over what I have not. But also I have learned that if I linger too long in front of the mirror I will keep somebody else from seeing the light. I have learned that if I stay there, absorbed in myself or accusing myself of some sort of stupidity – if I get stuck doing that, someone will shortly come up behind me and ask me to let them get through to the light.
My son’s wife comes from a very large family. She is one of nine children. And so when we are over there for family gatherings, there is no place you can go without bumping into a brother-in-law or kneeing a niece. Passing by the mirror has to be done quickly, because there is always somebody else wanting to get by. They need the space and the light in order to do it, and if I am standing there absorbed in my issues, I am in the way. I need to step aside and let the light shine.
John the Baptist knew how to step aside and point to the light. He got himself out of the way. He moved on, and he pointed to the light of the Christ who was to come. When the time was right, and John knew his calling, out to the wilderness he went with the message of repentance and salvation.
Brothers and sisters, you and I have friends out there in the wilderness. They do not know Christ and, whether we notice them or not, they are pushing to get past us to the light. They really are. They just do not realize who that light is. Some of them think they want a bailout from their financial failures and their miserable marriages; but what they really want is Christ. Some of them think they want to be more successful, more powerful, and more respected; but what they really want is meaning, and meaning comes from Christ. And some of them just want to be affirmed and befriended, to be loved without conditions; surely you know that that is what Christ offers. Men and women in every age, in every wilderness, want Christ; they just do not know that that is what they want. And we are all too often standing in the way, absorbed in our own issues, instead of pointing to the light.
Now if John the Baptist pointed to the light, with all the challenges of his day, just why does Joe the Baptist linger now? Might it be that Joe is too absorbed in himself, doing church work instead of the Lord’s work, teaching ideas instead of teaching people, trying to make committees commit and deacons deac? Lingering in front of the mirror instead of pointing to the light?
If John the Baptist could brave the wilderness and bring testimony in his day, why cannot Bill the Businessman or Harriett the Homemaker or Sam the Scientist point to the light? Are we lingering too long in front of the mirror, either preening ourselves for what we have done or accusing ourselves for what is wrong with us? Neither one is the issue; the issue is pointing to the light.
I have a challenge for you today. The challenge is simple and straightforward. It is a challenge I must hear and accept for myself as well as offer to you. Point one person to the light this month. In January, the month of beginnings, point one person to the light. Can you imagine what a point of light this church would be if each of us could encourage just one person who does not know Christ to come and grasp the Gospel?
No, there is no plan for a fancy church growth program or elaborate evangelism seminars. Most of us do not even use what we already know. The challenge is very simple: just point someone to the light. I will promise to bring messages that shed light in life’s dark corners. If we point someone to the light together, this church will experience revival, souls will be saved, and lives will be made new.
It just requires that we not linger in front of the mirror and wish for something to change that is not going to change. Just as God used John the Baptist, John who knew who he was not and who knew who he was, so God wants to use us to point to the light.
For the world is nudging us and asking to see the light. Let’s get ourselves out of the way, and point only to the light.
Will you accept the challenge? Will you point someone, one person, this month, to the light? I pray God you will. I know that we can. I know that we must. Just suck in the gut and do it. But watch out for the mirrors in the dimly lighted corridors of your heart.
