Pointing to Jesus

When the apostle Paul was dealing with the jealousy and division in the Corinthian church, he said something remarkably similar:

The purpose is that none of you will be arrogant, favoring one person over another. For who makes you so superior? What do you have that you didn’t receive? If, in fact, you did receive it, why do you boast as if you hadn’t received it? (1 Cor 4:6-7)

Everything good you’ve received, whether it’s financial prosperity, physical abilities, or ministry success, comes from heaven. It’s a gift from God. For John to grow frustrated, angry, or unhappy with God for taking people away from his ministry would be to act as if it was because of himself that people came. His perspective was that God is in control. God brought these people to him, and if God takes them elsewhere, that’s God’s decision.

The good hand of God is the reason for any success in ministry. Big buildings, growing budgets, and increased attendance don’t measure the success of a ministry. The results are not ours, they’re God’s, and he has the authority to do with us what he desires. Jesus said to his disciples, “I will build my church” (Matt 16:18). Ministry drift happens when we lose that perspective—when ministry becomes focused on our success, our accomplishments, our victories, and our crowds. But it’s not about us. It’s about God and what he’s doing. Ministry is about pointing people to Jesus, not gathering people to us.

John 3:28

John reminds his unhappy disciples he is not the Messiah. His role is to come “ahead of” the Messiah. He emphasizes Jesus. It’s not important who John is. The only thing that matters is that people know Jesus. The reason God so powerfully used John the Baptist was because John recognized his own, inherent nothingness compared to Jesus. Martin Luther, the sixteenth-century reformer, once said, “God created the world out of nothing. When I realize that I am nothing, perhaps God can create something out of me too!” (cited in Davey, Nehemiah, 1). God doesn’t need me to accomplish his plan. He can do it without my help, supervision, or permission. Only when I realize that can he use me.

John’s role was significant. He wasn’t a nobody. Jesus said about John the Baptist, “Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one greater than John the Baptist has appeared” (Matt 11:11). However, John knew his role was to point others to Jesus. He was not the story. He just needed to share the story. John’s consuming desire was to tell others about Jesus Christ. What an impact a group of believers could make in a community if each one was consumed with a passion to spread the message of Jesus Christ! If each said, like John, “It’s not about me. It’s about Jesus. I’m just here to point you to him.”

John 3:29

John compares Jesus to a bridegroom and himself to the groom’s friend—the best man. His role was to prepare the wedding festivities and to make sure the wedding went smoothly. The best man’s job was to make sure the bride was there and the wedding could begin. Once the groom showed up, his job was complete. He did what was asked of him. What best man after fulfilling his responsibility is going to get angry because the groom showed up and married the bride? John’s point to his disciples is that Jesus is the groom, and he has come to marry his bride. John doesn’t matter anymore. John doesn’t want people to ignore the groom and focus on him. His joy comes from watching the bride and groom come together.

I don’t think John’s choice of illustration was random. Throughout the New Testament we see this same imagery applied to Jesus and the church. Paul writes to a local church, “I have promised you in marriage to one husband—to present a pure virgin to Christ” (2 Cor 11:2). The church is the bride, and Jesus is the groom. The apostle John was given a glimpse of the wedding, which will take place at the end of time: “Let us be glad, rejoice, and give him glory, because the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his bride has prepared herself” (Rev 19:7). Each Sunday worship service is a preview of that wedding, and the bride of Christ—the church—comes before the groom to renew and recite the engagement covenant that has been made. He loves us in spite of our unfaithfulness, our spots, and our failures. We come to worship each week desperate to look upon the face of the groom, to see the one who loves us with an eternal love.

John’s pleasure did not come from popularity. It was not affected by influence. His pleasure was seeing the bridegroom appear. His joy was complete in the coming of Christ—not just because his mission was successful but because Jesus was there! In a real way John was both the bridegroom’s friend and part of the bride. John’s pleasure came not only because the “wedding” was successful—because he’d done his job—but because the one whom he needed as a Savior for his sins had come. The one he was longing for and hoping for, the promised Savior, was present. John’s sin would be paid for by Jesus.

John 3:30

John’s purpose was not to achieve fame or recognition. His purpose was to bring glory to Jesus Christ. He lived so the fame of Jesus might increase. Neither personal ambition nor a growing estimation in the eyes of other men motivated John. In fact, when John had the opportunity, he encouraged his disciples to follow Jesus. Not only in this passage but earlier in chapter 1, he sent Andrew and another disciple after Jesus.

Ministry drift happens when we stop thinking about Jesus and start worrying about ourselves. When we evaluate everything based on what we like and dislike, we’ve lost our purpose. Next time you’re tempted to complain, ask this question: Am I complaining because the glory of Jesus is decreasing, or is it about me? Jesus must increase, but it will only happen as we—our wants, desires, and likes—decrease.

I spent one summer in the mountains of Wyoming. The camp I was at was up on a mountain, a solid twenty-five minutes from the closest small town. When the sun went down, the moon and stars began to light up the sky. There were no city lights for them to compete with—no haze or smog—just cool, clear mountain air. As night deepened, the intensity of the stars and the moon grew. I was amazed at how bright they were. We would lie out under the stars and enjoy the wonders of the night sky. But every morning the sun would come up, and the stars and moon, as bright as they were, would start to fade. When the sun appeared, the stars were unnecessary. John the Baptist was a star, but when the Son came, the star faded. “It’s OK,” John declared in essence. “Follow Jesus; he’s here now.”