A number of years ago a couple traveled to the offices of an Adoption
Society in England to receive a baby. They had been on the waiting list a
long time. They had been interviewed and carefully scrutinized. Now at last
their dreams were to be fulfilled. But their day of happiness was another's
pain.
Arriving at the offices of the Society they were led up a flight of stairs
to a waiting room. After a few minutes they heard someone else climbing the
stairs. It was the young student mother whose baby was to be adopted. She
was met by the lady responsible for the adoption arrangements and taken into
another room. Our friends heard a muffled conversation and a few minutes
later footsteps on the stairs as the young mother left. They heard her
convulsive sobbing until the front door of the office was closed. Then,
there was silence.
The lady in charge then conducted them next door. In a little crib was a six
week old baby boy. On a chair beside it was a brown paper bag containing a
change of clothes and two letters. One of these, addressed to the new
parents, thanked them for providing a home for her baby and acknowledged
that under the terms of the adoption each would never know the other's
identity. Then the young mother added one request. Would they allow her
little son to read the other letter on his eighteenth birthday? She assured
them that she had not included any information about her identity. The
couple entrusted that letter to a lawyer and one day the young man will read
the message which his mother wrote on the day when with breaking heart, she
parted with him.
I wonder what she wrote? If I had to condense all I feel about life and love
into a few precious words what would I say? I would have no time for trivia.
I would not be concerned about economics, politics, the weather, the size of
house or the type of car. At such a time I would want to dwell on the
profundities, on what life was all about and what things were absolutely
essential.
John in the desert was in the great tradition of the Hebrew prophets. He was
aware that time was running out. In his burning message he had no time for
peripheral matters. He was not playing Trivial Pursuit nor was he prepared
to splash about in the shallows. Soon the sword of Herod's guard would flash
and his tongue would lie silent in the grave. Superficial people came out
from Jerusalem to see him. They were intrigued by this strange phenomenon of
a wild man preaching repentance. They were fascinated by frivolous things
such as his dress, his diet and his fierce declamatory oratory. They wanted
to interview him and then tell all their friends about their remarkable
experience. "Who are you?" they asked. His answer was curt: "I am not the
Christ." "Are you Elijah?" "No!" "Then who are you?" they persisted. They
had their doubts about who he was but his message to their ears was clear:
Repent.
There comes a moment when the preacher longs for his hearers to lose sight
of everything except his message. "Don't listen to my accent. Don't look at
my clothes. Don't comment on my style. Don't search my biographical details
for my University pedigree. Just listen to what I am saying. Repent!
I would like to suggest this morning that Repent was the first component of
his message. There are two others. Let's take a look at them:
1. First, John's message called people to Repentance.
2. Second, John told people to Share.
3. The third thrust of John's message was Serve.
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