You knit me in my mother's womb

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/062419-day.cfm
Isaiah 49:1-6
Psalms/139:1
Acts 13:22-26
Luke 1:57-66, 80

John the Baptist’s feast day was celebrated on June 24. The readings for that day point out several times when John was referred to in scripture. In Isaiah (before he was even born), in the Gospels, and in Acts. Odd as this may sound, we go through similar experiences to that of John the Baptist. The pivotal points in his life match ours. God arranges the same set of life experiences for all of us.

Our lives matter to God just like that of John the Baptist. This is not exaggeration. So, let’s not just “imagine” that our lives might matter to God. Let’s confirm it. 

To begin with, the magnificence of our individual creation is revealed through the truth of Psalm 139. These words read out in the first person. They are ours to speak.

Truly you have formed my inmost being;
you knit me in my mother's womb.
I give you thanks that I am fearfully, wonderfully made;
wonderful are your works.

These two verses are written for each of us. Knitting describes a purposeful joining of strings, like our DNA, woven together to form our being. We are born within our mother’s bodies, not magically but with divine intent and with human cooperation. We’re inextricably wound up in a human chain of love between our parent’s desires and allowances for us to live and God’s direct manufacturing process. What else can we say, but “I praise you, God, because I am wonderfully made.”

Few of us can attest to an angelic participation in our birth announcement, but I believe it happened. Some of us never heard the specific details of our own birth story. Each of our stories was told by many people. The rumors, messages, and curious details flew rapidly across at least two families. Our expectancy stretched more than our mother’s bellies. The mouths of our aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents flapped and squeezed out oohs and aahs across counties and even countries. They told each other of our mother’s pregnancy, and our father’s antics. “She got so big!” “You know, he went out and bought a new car.” 

Sometimes folks just made up their own details from scraps of information. “He’ll probably be tall.” “I’ll bet she’ll have hair like her mother.” “He’ll be fast like his father.” 

Dozens and ultimately hundreds of people spoke about our coming before we were even born. Men and women prayed for us. Some secretly, and some with flowery notifications at a church. Children wondered when we would come, and they were among the first to rush to see us, touch us, and smell our heads. God doesn’t just gather us to Church. He gathers us to celebrate and anoint each other. 

Like John the Baptist we probably have a cousin near our age. Even the smallest of families have cousins they don’t know. Maybe some of us met that cousin thirty years after we were born, or read about them from a news clipping at the library. 

Cousins connect us to the world beyond our siblings. Our brothers and sisters grow in number through the cousin maps of family names, mixed marriages, and dispersions from both migration and wanderings. Our names come from other family members, perhaps, insisted upon out of respect, of honor, or weird inspirations, almost like an angel whispered our names to our mother or father. That angel might’ve inspired our brother or sister, or grandparent to shout out. “Call him Enoch!” “Call him Zeke!” “Call him John!”

When we were growing we wrapped ourselves in costumes, tramping around the back yard and even the neighborhood living like pirates, dressing like Tarzan. If we found animal skins we wore them. Some of us may have even poured honey on a fried grasshopper and took a taste. 

“He thinks he’s Superman,” folks would say. John the Baptist’s clothing matched his blossoming personae. Look at the young men and women today adorned in fashion that pushes the limits to reveal their sharp edges, their flowery side, and even their tribal commitments. They talk about their new tattoos and they wear shoes, cut their hair, and drape themselves with jewelry that challenges sanity. Most of us simply settle on trends that mark our style. “She’s always wearing a hat, like her Auntie Joe.” 

In effect, people know us by how we present ourselves, and how we spend our time. We each hear the whispers of the Holy Spirit with different plans in mind. Our family, friends, and even strangers wonder what we were going to do with our lives. 

All who heard these things took them to heart, saying,
"What, then, will this child be?"
For surely the hand of the Lord was with him.
The child grew and became strong in spirit …     

At some point in our lives a grandmother or person we worked for or a priest or religious person took us aside and told us they expected great things from us. If we were paying attention, those words burned into our psyche. We wanted that to be true. If we could, we would be good, we would be holy, we would be courageous, we would please God. Over the decades of our lives, how many times have we heard the words of scripture talking to us? Those first person verses often include us, especially when we say them out loud.

He made of me a sharp-edged sword
and concealed me in the shadow of his arm.
He made me a polished arrow,
in his quiver he hid me.
You are my servant, he said to me.

When life got hard and we trudged on in our own desert, making ourselves complete a mission or a task, we heard the words of God tell us that he loved us.

Though I thought I had toiled in vain,
and for nothing, uselessly, spent my strength,
yet my reward is with the LORD,
my recompense is with my God.

Even if our memories of God are foggy, we hear him speaking to us today, prompting us. How can we hide from a God who is revealed in so many ways around us? Eventually, we realize he’s been with us all the time.

O LORD, you have probed me, you know me:
you know when I sit and when I stand;
you understand my thoughts from afar.
My journeys and my rest you scrutinize,
with all my ways you are familiar.

Many of us can answer yes to the question, “Are you a friend of God?” At the same time, we find ourselves sitting in a dark place, wondering if God has forgotten about us. We know it’s not true, but we still ask God if he knows what’s going on. John the Baptist knew who his cousin was, and yet there he sat in prison, waiting for a certain death. He had to send a message to the Messiah. Would Jesus not save his life?

“Are you the one who is to come, or shall I look for another?”  

We too will and have already gotten the same answer. “I am,” God tells us. He is who he is, and who we know he is. “My grace is enough for you.”

John the Baptist was in his early thirties when he died, killed for speaking the truth to power. His charisma and sourced truth was his raison d’être, the purpose of his existence. We’ve probably spoken out in similar fashion, certainly over smaller things. I believe each of us, in every case, have been quite near the edge of a fatal sword even if we were quiet. But no matter, we have insisted, or groaned in our fear. “I am made glorious in the sight of the LORD, and my God is now my strength!”

As we age, we lean more and more into God, rely upon him to assist us as we ponder things, work out the truth, and fashion our way in the world. We all have these things in common. God knits us, names us, encourages us, and works with us from womb to aged knees. The ones who spoke about us in our early days may say the same things about us now. “The child grew and became strong in spirit.”

And after all those similarities with John the Baptist, there are two things that we need to do. These last two things mark John as the greatest of the Old Testament prophets, as Jesus called him. They are not his tasks alone, though. They are also a challenge for us, children of the age of the Holy Spirit who guides us for the coming King. God does all these other things for us just like he did for John. These last two things John shows us that we are called to do for God.

First, we must make way for the path of Jesus. He is the King, our savior, our Lord, our redeemer. His is our brother. He’s the one we would give our lives for.

Secondly, we must be clear when people praise us and put us on a pedestal, that no, it is not about us. Don't accept the pedestal. It is Jesus. We’re not the ones. Jesus is the one. It’s not us who is important, no matter how grand or charismatic or humble or saintly we are. 

We are asked to point to Jesus, and reveal Jesus is the one to follow. In everything that God does for us our lives match that of John the Baptist. If we know Jesus, have been blessed by him, and have allowed his Spirit to live in us, then two things are up to us. We must not only show the way, but witness that it’s not us, but Jesus who is the one to follow.