A GREAT MINISTRY WITHOUT MIRACLES

“And they said, John did no miracle. (Jn. 10:41).

There is a flair for the miraculous these days. Perhaps it has always been so. The scribes and Pharisees insisted that Jesus should do a miracle for them, as if it took that to authenticate his ministry. But the Lord responded: “It is an evil and unfaithful generation that asks for a sign (or miracle) The only sign it will give is the sign of the prophet Jonah” (Mt. 12:39). The point seems to be that when the people of Nineveh saw Jonah alive in their streets (after the report of his death at sea), they repented with vigor. He was a risen prophet, and that was enough for them. And so no generation needs anything more than the One who is greater than Jonah and his resurrection. Sign-seekers and miracle-hunters may be guilty of more than missing the point, for they may even fall under the Lord’s judgment of “evil and unfaithful.”

Some have been making too much of the question as to whether miracles have ceased, for miracles simply are not all that important to start with. I favor an attitude of taking them or leaving them, whatever God decides in any generation, and not of making a big deal of them. We have ample evidence in scripture that one’s ministry can be both full and great without miracles. Not only is there an economy of miracle on the part of those who did exercise such power, with both Jesus and his apostles using such gifts with some restriction, but some of the most beautiful ministries were completely void of miracle. John the Immerser is the most notable instance.

Some critics of the times of Jesus, like old Renan of two generations ago, have claimed that the emotional climate among the Jews was such that no prophet would have been listened to who was not a thaumaturgist. And so, Renan asserted, Jesus yielded to this temper and became a miracle-worker. But that conclusion is doubtful, for Jesus was not all that concerned for the miraculous. He did of course perform miracles, but this was not the heart of his mission, and it is evident that the miraculous was sparingly employed. Even his healings touched but a fraction of those who might have been healed, and sometimes in large gatherings (such as at the pool in John 5) his healing power touched but one. The heart of Jesus’ ministry was teaching about the kingdom of God. So, Renan not withstanding, it cannot be said that Jesus read the temper of the times and therefore entered the scene as a thaumaturgist.

Renan’s premise is also wrong, for John’s ministry proves that a prophet could not only be heard, but also have a tremendous impact, without being a miracle man. The Immerser stirred the whole country from center to circumference, drawing people into the wilderness to hear him, without any attending miracles. While he was not the first Jew to immerse, he was the first to do so in the name of the emerging Messiah, thus introducing the approaching kingdom. He prepared a people for Jesus by persuading them to turn from their sins and accept the principles of the new order. He had marked success. “They flocked to him from Jerusalem, from all Judea, and the whole Jordan valley, and were baptized by him in the River Jordan, confessing their sins” (Mt. 3:6). Even though Elijah did perform miracles, Jesus attributes to John the old prophet’s likeness: “Ever since the coming of John the Baptist the kingdom of Heaven has been subjected to violence and violent men are seizing it. For all the prophets and the Law foretold things to come until John appeared, and John is the destined Elijah, if you will but accept it” (Mt. 11:13). In the same context Jesus calls John great, none greater in fact. If one can be another Elijah and the greatest of the great without the support of miracles, then they may not be as important as some of us have supposed.

And John’s ministry lived on, far beyond his own martyrdom. It would have cheered his heart to have known that those his own hands had immersed became the charter members of the Church of Christ on the day of Pentecost. Indeed, the interpretation cannot be allowed that says John’s disciples were again immersed at Pentecost, for this would undo the work that John did. He immersed believers for the remission of their sins in the name of the coming One, and it is amiss to suppose they had to be baptized again. True, some of John’s disciples were reimmersed in Acts 19, but this was after Jesus’ baptism had displaced John’s, whose was valid up to Pentecost. After all, Acts 2 does not say that 3,000 were immersed that day, but that many were added to the Body. “As many as received the word” were baptized, and these, added to the number that John had prepared, totaled about 3,000. And John carved the first Church of God out of a mountain of sinful men without a single miracle. He stuck with the basics by preaching repentance.

The beloved prophet appeared in the rough with his clothes made of camel’s hair and with a diet of locusts and wild honey. He did not come to dazzle men’s eyes by a display of superhuman power, which is the fetish of small minds. He was not clever, nor is he remembered for his brilliant gifts. But he stands out in history as true. He was no phony. His ministry rested on character. Reared in the wilderness, perhaps by the Essenes, his mind was disciplined as much as his body was toughened, and he thought in terms of history. God would soon be using him, and one day the call came loud and clear. His mission may have been profound but it was not complex. Reform was his cry, which broke the long silence of prophecy, for the reign of God is near.

No froth or foam. No veneer or stucco. No hay or stubble. He was for real and his message. snapped through Judean desert like a whip. He did not heal the sick and call down fire from heaven, but his message burned into the hearts of people as if it were coals of fire.

We need what John had. Sincerity and determination, and of course truth. And we need his sense of sin, his heroic spirit, his generous and modest temper, and his self-effacing disposition. The greatest of the prophets could say, “He must increase but I must decrease.” He was a man of conviction and he spoke his mind, indifferent either to wealth or position. It cost him his life, but his influence lives on and on. And all this without miracle.

I have no quarrel with the brother who seeks after signs and wants the more elegant gifts of healing. Nor am I saying that there can be no such things in the church today. But I am left uneasy by all the preoccupation for the subjective. Our young men (and a few older ones) want to dream dreams, and our young women want to see visions. More than a few are on the verge of reading handwriting on the wall as well as in the sacred text. In one assembly where I sat the speaker paused to say, “The Spirit is telling me that there is someone in this audience with a serious problem,” as he proceeded to pull things out of thin air as well as from the Book. One brother called another one long distance to tell that he had a prophecy for him. And holding hands in the dark reaches the place in some circles that as much comes from the ether waves as from the scriptures.

If a brother does have a gift of healing or whatever, I will rejoice in his ministry, and I certainly will not discourage him. But let him pursue it quietly as unto the Lord and to the glory of God; and let him not leave the impression that it takes the miraculous to make for an effective ministry. He must also guard against leaving the impression that if one is grievously ill then God will heal. In such cases God may choose to minister in the suffering, enriching and ennobling character so that it will be better adapted to the rich blessings that await the soul.

And why can’t we have more of plain old John, who did not bother with miracles, gifted as he was? Let’s stay with the Book, drinking deeply of its great truth. Let’s share with the world the wonders of the Word more than the marvels of tongue or sign. Let’s preach the gospel and teach the Word. Signs are confusing and tongues are bewildering, but the Word strengthens the soul and gives life and light. When we stand before people let’s open the Book and give its meaning, like Ezra as he restored the fortunes of Israel. Let out voices be lifted up like that of John the Immerser, preaching repentance and remission of sins. This is God’s appointed way for us to be great in the kingdom of God.—the Editor