Doubts
Read Matthew 11:1-19.
I've been in prison, but only once. And that was only to visit. I was with Prison Fellowship on an expedition into the Michigan City (IN) prison to prepare for a big event they were having, and even though that's been years ago, I still remember the "clang" of the doors that locked us in. The series of doors that locked us in, actually. The next door could not open until the previous door had closed, and so slowly we were locked in, caught, trapped.
We got to see several areas of the prison and talk to those who worked there. It was a sobering experience, and watching the faces of the men there made me realize how easily hopelessness can settle into a soul. It helped me understand the mood of John the Baptist in Matthew 11.
A lot of times, we don't quite get why John, at this point, is doubting who Jesus is. Here's the setting: John is in prison, and we're not talking a comfortable prison with television and three square meals a day. We're talking a Roman prison, not too much more than a hole in the ground. The only way inmates in a Roman prison would eat or receive anything is if their friends brought it to them from the outside. So state support. No tax money going to prisoners. If you had no friends, you had no hope.
But John had friends—disciples, actually. Those who had followed him. It seems they visited him regularly, probably bringing him food and whatever else he needed. And during those visits, they would tell him what they were hearing about Jesus. John, you remember, baptized Jesus. At first, of course, he insisted that he should not do so, but Jesus specifically asked him to (Matthew 3). John had spent his life preparing people for the coming of the Messiah. So naturally, he's interested in what his cousin, Jesus, is doing.
So his disciples tell him about the healings. They tell him about the parables. They tell him about the sermon on the mount and the way Jesus is preaching. Maybe they tell him about Jesus' mixed bag of disciples. And as they tell him these things, doubt begins to settle into John's heart that is just as solid as the sound of the clanging doors that locked him in this place. Jesus doesn't seem to be doing what the Messiah is supposed to do, or at least what John (and many) thought he would do. So John sends them to ask: "Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?" (9:3). You're not what I expected, Jesus. Are you really the Messiah?
Doubts come easily in dark places. But hear me on this: doubt is not the opposite of faith. Unbelief is. Doubt is an essential part of faith, because in our doubts we ask the questions we most need to ask to be able to have faith. In our doubts, we find the soil in which to grow. John wasn't giving up his faith; he was asking an honest question. And while we don't know how he responded to the answer Jesus sent back, I have to believe it was enough and led him to deeper trust in the midst of his doubts.
Why do I believe that? Because I saw light come to darkness in the midst of that prison I visited. Our last stop of the day was the prison chapel, and there we found the church gathered. We heard testimonies of prisoners who had come to know Christ, prisoners who were living a vibrant faith "behind the walls." There was tremendous life in that prison chapel; the Spirit was alive and well because they now knew that, in spite of their circumstances, Jesus was with them, saving them, making them whole despite their imprisonment. I think that's what John was looking for, and I believe that's what he found.
You, too, can find that same presence even in the midst of your questions and doubts. He is the savior of all who are honest enough to hold on even when the circumstances feels like a prison. He is there, with you, now. Thanks be to God!
I've been in prison, but only once. And that was only to visit. I was with Prison Fellowship on an expedition into the Michigan City (IN) prison to prepare for a big event they were having, and even though that's been years ago, I still remember the "clang" of the doors that locked us in. The series of doors that locked us in, actually. The next door could not open until the previous door had closed, and so slowly we were locked in, caught, trapped.
We got to see several areas of the prison and talk to those who worked there. It was a sobering experience, and watching the faces of the men there made me realize how easily hopelessness can settle into a soul. It helped me understand the mood of John the Baptist in Matthew 11.
A lot of times, we don't quite get why John, at this point, is doubting who Jesus is. Here's the setting: John is in prison, and we're not talking a comfortable prison with television and three square meals a day. We're talking a Roman prison, not too much more than a hole in the ground. The only way inmates in a Roman prison would eat or receive anything is if their friends brought it to them from the outside. So state support. No tax money going to prisoners. If you had no friends, you had no hope.
But John had friends—disciples, actually. Those who had followed him. It seems they visited him regularly, probably bringing him food and whatever else he needed. And during those visits, they would tell him what they were hearing about Jesus. John, you remember, baptized Jesus. At first, of course, he insisted that he should not do so, but Jesus specifically asked him to (Matthew 3). John had spent his life preparing people for the coming of the Messiah. So naturally, he's interested in what his cousin, Jesus, is doing.
So his disciples tell him about the healings. They tell him about the parables. They tell him about the sermon on the mount and the way Jesus is preaching. Maybe they tell him about Jesus' mixed bag of disciples. And as they tell him these things, doubt begins to settle into John's heart that is just as solid as the sound of the clanging doors that locked him in this place. Jesus doesn't seem to be doing what the Messiah is supposed to do, or at least what John (and many) thought he would do. So John sends them to ask: "Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?" (9:3). You're not what I expected, Jesus. Are you really the Messiah?
Doubts come easily in dark places. But hear me on this: doubt is not the opposite of faith. Unbelief is. Doubt is an essential part of faith, because in our doubts we ask the questions we most need to ask to be able to have faith. In our doubts, we find the soil in which to grow. John wasn't giving up his faith; he was asking an honest question. And while we don't know how he responded to the answer Jesus sent back, I have to believe it was enough and led him to deeper trust in the midst of his doubts.
Why do I believe that? Because I saw light come to darkness in the midst of that prison I visited. Our last stop of the day was the prison chapel, and there we found the church gathered. We heard testimonies of prisoners who had come to know Christ, prisoners who were living a vibrant faith "behind the walls." There was tremendous life in that prison chapel; the Spirit was alive and well because they now knew that, in spite of their circumstances, Jesus was with them, saving them, making them whole despite their imprisonment. I think that's what John was looking for, and I believe that's what he found.
You, too, can find that same presence even in the midst of your questions and doubts. He is the savior of all who are honest enough to hold on even when the circumstances feels like a prison. He is there, with you, now. Thanks be to God!
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