Words by Dustin Murray | Image by Blakeney Clouse
Tucked away in the modern-day country of Jordan, the Fortress of Machaerus once towered above the Dead Sea. First-century historian Josephus, in Antiquities of the Jews (18.117-119), notes this as the site of John the Baptist’s imprisonment and execution under Herod Antipas. One can still ascend the ancient stronghold and walk the dusty steps of the courtyard where Salome danced, allured her stepfather Herod Antipas, and requested the head of John the Baptist upon a silver platter. Antipas, a prisoner to his promise offering Salome up to half his kingdom, relented and gave the orders, transforming the ancient stronghold into John the Baptist’s personal Golgotha.
The camel-coated, leather-belted, honey and locust-eating prophet (Matthew 3:4), of whom Jesus himself said, “I tell you, among those born of women there is no one greater than John (Luke 7:28),” was extinguished by the sword. The “voice of one crying out the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord and make his paths straight'” was silenced (Mark 1:3). The one who publicly confessed Jesus as the Son of God (John 1:34) and the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world (John 1:29) became the victim of a cruel tyrant.
In response to the news of John’s death, our Savior– love incarnate, pierced with sorrow– boarded a boat and withdrew to a desolate place by himself (Matthew 14:13). It is reasonable to conclude that Jesus’ final earthly exchange with John consumed his heart and mind at that moment. Their interaction was significant and worth our consideration.
Before his death, John entered a moment of doubt and despair from his prison cell. He sent messengers to Jesus inquiring if he was the one to come or whether they should look for another Messiah (Luke 7:19). Our Lord responded with astonishing depth and compassion. Jesus first turned and healed the crowds before gently replying with a quote from the book of Isaiah, “Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news preached to them. And blessed is the one who is not offended by me.” He wanted the messengers to see the reality of his response.
As Elijah (John’s Old Testament counterpart) once heard the still, small voice of the Lord in his darkest hour, Jesus provided John with the soul-consuming comfort of an eternal perspective. Our Lord could have continued the passage from Isaiah, which includes “to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon.” But he did not. From a cell surrounded by people who hated him and wished him dead, it was enough for John to know that the dead were raised.
Instead of heaping condemnation and shame upon John’s doubt, Jesus fueled his faith by shepherding his forerunner’s heart. Their lives had been intricately woven together– from the fluttering of joy in Elizabeth’s womb (Luke 1:41) to the watershed moment of His Baptism in the Jordan (Matthew 3:13-17). What could separate John from the love of Christ? Not even death itself. Jesus’ tenderness triumphed through the tension by calling John to remember what he already knew.
This is equally true for us today. Sometimes, we simply need to be reminded of what we know. For John, no sword in the Fortress of Machaerus, no dungeon, no verdict from earthly kings, and no seeming momentary victory of evil over good would have the final word over his life. Resurrection would.
As Paul states in Romans 8:18, “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” That glory is owing entirely to the grace and majesty of Christ– our Lord who vanquished death.
So, friends, when we face the dark, press into the Light of the World. When doubt and despair draw near, listen intently to the still, small voice of God’s inerrant Word. When death itself hovers like a black cloud above our path, stare it down with resurrection hope. Remember what you know.
… for your progress and joy in the faith. WL
