The gospels describe the imposing figure of a man called John.  No matter how we think of him, John certainly made his mark on the people of his day.  Scripture scholars tell us that he was a “Nazir,” one who had been dedicated to God from birth.  Since a Nazir never cut his hair, John must have looked wild and scruffy by the time he came on the public scene.  We are told that he dressed simply.  Considering he lived in the wilderness on a diet of locusts and honey, he was likely on the thin side.  Finally, we can say that John spoke his mind.  Regardless of whether his opinions happened to be “politically sensitive” or not, he literally shouted his message over the noise of the crowds.  If you met John, you remembered him.

Has there ever been a John in your life?  Years ago, a young physician in training asked me, as the hospital social worker, to see an elderly patient and answer his questions about Medicare.  That day I met briefly with the gentleman, answered his questions and moved on to several other cases.  On the following Friday afternoon I received another order from the same physician about the same patient with the same concerns about Medicare.  As this was the end of the week, I felt tired and more than a little put out by this second request.  With my negative attitude, I rushed into the patient’s room for a quick visit.  At first I didn’t see him in the darkened room.  As I turned to leave, I spotted him sitting alone in the corner.

“I don’t have much longer to live,” he said softly.  His words caught me off guard and left me speechless.  For the next half hour or so he talked about his life and things that made a difference.  All weekend I couldn’t get him out of my mind.  He had already gone home by the time I returned to work on Monday.  A few weeks later I saw his obituary in the paper.

Today, we still make our way through personal deserts of loneliness, illness and exhaustion.  We regret things we have done or left undone.  For me, that patient sitting alone in his room was John the Baptist.  He didn’t look especially odd and he never even raised his voice.  Yet, he disturbed what had become my hurried way of life.  John still lives in people who come into our lives unexpectedly and who, by their words and actions, bring us back on the road to the kingdom.  Thank God, John still waits for us on the roads through our deserts.