“A GREAT MAN CONDEMNS THE WORLD TO THE task of explaining him,” Hegel said. In the case of John the Baptist, such condemnation is neither unpleasant nor unprofitable. John’s brief and fiery ministry of judgment and repentance had come to a close. Because of his fearless denunciation of Herod and Herodias for their adulterous union, John had been cast into prison. There in the lonely dungeon of Machaerus, on the shore of the Dead Sea, John’s might}’ spirit may have began to doubt: “Art thou he that should come, or do we look for another?” That was the question John sent to Jesus from the dungeon. The answer of Christ was marked by that deep respect with which he always referred to his great forerunner: “Go and shew John again those things which ye do hear and see: the blind receive their sight, and the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, and the poor have the gospel preached to them. And blessed is he whosoever shall not be offended in me.” That was for John.
This world flatters a man to his face and disparages him when his back is turned. Not so with Christ. He did not tell John that he was the greatest man that ever lived; but when the messengers of John had gone their way, Jesus turned to the crowd who stood about, who had most likely overheard the conversation, perhaps now doubting that John was a prophet, and said to them; “What went ye out into the wilderness to see? A reed shaken with the wind?” A man answering every whim of popular opinion, bending before the vagrant wind? “A man clothed in soft raiment,” or looking for comfort? “But what went ye out for to see? A prophet? Yea, I say unto you, and more than a prophet…. Verily I say unto you, among them that are born of women there hath not arisen greater than John the Baptist.” If praise is to be measured by the lips which pronounce it, then never was man so praised as was John the Baptist. In speaking, then, about the greatness of John, we shall think first of the origin of his greatness, whence it came, and second, of the content of his greatness—what it was.
There has never been a great life or a great witness without a great conviction backing it. John was no agnostic, telling the world what he was not sure of, or what he could not believe; but with terrible earnestness he told the world what he did believe. It is the lack of conviction that threatens to kill preaching in the pulpit. What we need is not more knowledge, organization or paraphernalia, but more bedrock conviction as concerning a few great facts. John had tremendous convictions—that the Kingdom of God was at hand, that men must repent of their sins, that the Christ was at hand, and, when he saw him, that Jesus was the Christ. With these convictions he shook the world.
That deep conviction made John sincere and earnest in his preaching. He was a burning and a shining light. The light shone because it burned. Nothing can ever take the place of that sincerity which is born of conviction. We can respect sincere men however much we differ from them, but the most gifted of men forfeits our respect if he does not possess true convictions.
When John’s disciples, jealous of the growing fame of Jesus, went to him in alarm and said, “Rabbi,.. .the same baptizeth, and all men come to him,” instead of fanning their discontent, John gave them the answer: “The friend of the bridegroom, which standeth and heareth him, rejoiceth greatly because of the bridegroom’s voice;… He must increase, but I must decrease.” It is not pleasant to be told that someone can write or preach or administer better than we can. We would just as soon be told something else.