Gathered to the Lamb--January 19, 2026

Gathered to the Lamb--January 19, 2026

[John the Baptizer] saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! [John 1:29]

After all the talk of fire and wrath, the One John had been waiting for turns out to be best described as a Lamb. How about that?

We get reintroduced to John every year it seems in the weeks of Advent, and he's generally a pretty fiery figure. He's the one dressed like a wilderness survivalist and who talks like a prophet, who calls even his devoted listeners "brood of vipers." This is the guy who was utterly certain that when God's Messiah came, he would bring down judgment, burn the unworthy and unrepentant with fire, and cut down the wicked like a lumberjack with an ax.

And now here we get the passage that many of us heard this past Sunday in worship. And as the storytelling goes, John comes face to face with Jesus--who, mind you, apparently doesn't look impressive or noteworthy at all--and now somehow John knows... this is the one you were waiting for. And yet, the first thing John blurts out about Jesus is: "He's a Lamb."

No conquering king imagery. No mighty emperor who will overthrow the Romans. No burning words of judgment. Not a lion; not even an intimidating ram with fierce horns to charge at his enemies with. Jesus--the One John had been waiting for--turns out to be a Lamb... the kind that would bear the sins of the people in a sacrifice. A barnyard animal known for its docile fluffiness. Nothing threatening to go up against the imperial eagle of Rome or even the wicked "vipers" that John had labeled the Religious Leaders, but a petting-zoo staple who might eat out of your hand. It is without a doubt one of the great reversals of the Bible, and it reveals that when God truly chooses to be revealed most clearly, God chooses to be known in kindness and gentleness, rather than fire and fury.

And, to gauge it from John's response to finally getting it, John is apparently discovering the joy of being wrong. Rather than being bitter and upset that Jesus isn't what he wanted, rather than being angry or disappointed that the Messiah didn't turn out to be a warrior-king but a Suffering Servant, John just seems to take it all in with awe and humility. "Here he is, after all," John seems to say with a grin, "I should have known--he's the Lamb of God, while I had been looking for a general commanding angel armies. Well, how do you like that?" Maybe that's the difference between John's response to Jesus and the Respectable Religious Leaders' reaction to him. Both John the Baptizer and the so-and-sos among the Pharisees and Sadducees had been surprised by what Jesus turned to be, but John apparently learned how not to dig his heels in and double-down on his wrong-ness. John was willing to let God's unexpected gentleness in Jesus lead him to a new way of thinking, rather than ignoring what didn't fit with his assumptions. I wonder whether we could dare to be that brave, too, and to let ourselves be surprised by the kindness of Christ, rather than trying to force him into our boxes of vindictiveness and triumphalism.

These days, there are a lot of loud and angry wolf-like voices in the world, growling, threatening, and salivating to carve up the map for the sake of their own greedy appetites. But Jesus is not one of them, and it never will be--because the way of Jesus is never the way of Empire. The predators who want to conquer, devour, and intimidate never represent the Reign of God. They are in a very literal sense anti-Christ--that is, contrary to the way of Jesus, the Lamb of God.  John the Baptizer can recognize that, even if that meant rethinking a great deal of his previous expectations.  I wonder if we are brave enough to let this truth do its work on us and realign our priorities and approach in the world, too.

Maybe that's enough for us to chew on for this day--to ask ourselves how we will respond when we come face to face with the grace of God, and whether we will let God be bigger than our expectations, or whether we'll try and coerce Jesus into our own coercive preconceptions. Because Jesus is going to keep on being his Lamb-like self, even if we sometimes tell ourselves we want a Caesar (whose empire clung to a myth that their city was founded by twins raised by a literal wolf, tellingly). Jesus is going to keep on being the One who lays down his life for us rather than the one who destroys his enemies in rage. Will we be open to letting his kindness stretch our understanding of God? And will we be willing to let God's kindness shape the ways we love the neighbors around us as well?

Will we let ourselves be gathered to the Lamb?

Lord Jesus, surprise us as you will with your unexpected gentleness--and reshape us as you do.