He is the One who comes after me. I am not good
enough to untie the strings of his sandals.

JOHN 1:27

John the Baptist would never get hired today. No church would touch him. He was a public relations disaster. He “wore clothes made from camel’s hair, had a leather belt around his waist, and ate locusts and wild honey” (Mark 1:6). Who would want to look at a guy like that every Sunday?

His message was as rough as his dress: a no-nonsense, barefisted challenge to repent because God was on his way.

Didn’t matter to John if you were a Jew, a priest, a Baptist, or all three. What mattered was that you get off your duff and get right with God because he’s coming and he don’t mean maybe.

No, John would never get hired today. His tactics lacked tact. His style wasn’t smooth. He made few friends and lots of enemies, but what do you know? He made hundreds of converts. “All the people from Judea and Jerusalem were going out to him. They confessed their sins and were baptized by him in the Jordan River” (Mark 1:5).

Look at that. “All the people of Judea and Jerusalem. . . .” How do we explain such a response? It certainly wasn’t his charisma or clothing. Nor was it his money or position, for he had neither. Then what did he have?

One word. Holiness.

John the Baptist set himself apart for one task, to be a voice of Christ. Everything about John centered on his purpose. His dress. His diet. His actions. His demands.

He reminded his hearers of Elijah. And he reminds us of this truth: “There is winsomeness in holiness.” You don’t have to be like the world to have an impact on the world. You don’t have to be like the crowd to change the crowd. You don’t have to lower yourself down to their level to lift them up to your level.

Nor do you have to be weird. You don’t need to wear camel’shair clothing or eat insects. Holiness doesn’t seek to be odd. Holiness seeks to be like God.

You want to make a difference in your world? Live a holy life:

Be faithful to your spouse.
Be the one at the office who refuses to cheat.
Be the neighbor who acts neighborly.
Be the employee who does the work and doesn’t complain.
Pay your bills.
Do your part and enjoy life.
Don’t speak one message and live another.

Note the last line of Paul’s words in 1 Thessalonians 4:11–12.

Do all you can to lead a peaceful life. Take care of your own business, and do your own work as we have already told you. If you do, then people who are not believers will respect you.

A peaceful life leads nonbelievers to respect believers. What if John’s life had not matched his words? What if he’d preached repentance and lived in immorality? What if he’d called for holiness and yet had a reputation for dishonesty? If John’s life had not matched his words, his message would have fallen on deaf ears.

So will ours.

People are watching the way we act more than they are listening to what we say.

Saint Francis of Assisi once invited a young monk to accompany him to town to preach. The novice was honored at the opportunity. The two set out for the city, then walked up and down the main street, then several side streets. They chatted with peddlers and greeted the citizens. After some time they returned by another route to the abbey.

The younger man reminded Francis of his original intent. “You have forgotten, Father, that we went to town to preach.”

“My son,” he replied, “we have preached. We have been seen by many. Our behavior was closely watched. Our attitudes were closely measured. Our words have been overheard. It was by thus that we preached our morning sermon.”¹

John was a voice for Christ with more than his voice. His life matched his words. When a person’s ways and words are the same, the fusion is explosive. But when a person says one thing and lives another, the result is destructive. People will know we are Christians, not because we bear the name, but because we live the life.

It’s the life that earns the name, not the name that creates the life. Here’s a story that illustrates this point.

A Jewish couple were arguing over the name to give their firstborn. They finally asked the rabbi to come and intercede.

“What is the problem?” the rabbi asked.

The wife spoke first. “He wants to name the boy after his father, and I want to name the boy after my father.”

“What is your father’s name?” he asked the man.

“Joseph.”

“And what is your father’s name?” he asked the woman.

“Joseph.”

The rabbi was stunned. “So, what is the problem?”

It was the wife who spoke again. “His father was a horse thief, and mine was a righteous man. How can I know my son is named after my father and not his?”

The rabbi thought and then replied, “Call the boy Joseph. Then see if he is a horse thief or a righteous man. You will know which father’s name he wears.”

To call yourself a child of God is one thing. To be called a child of God by those who watch your life is another thing altogether.