I AM NOT
I AM NOT
Before Jesus said, "I AM," John said, "I am NOT"
I Am Not
John 1:19–34 — what John the Baptist knew about not being the main character.
I was yelling at my phone again last week. One of my hobbies — listening to long lectures and debates on YouTube — had me parked at my desk while a Christian apologist sparred with a skeptic about faith. The Christian answered a question in a way I didn't love, and I actually said it out loud, into the empty room: "No, you said it wrong. You should have answered it this way." Then, because the Holy Spirit has a sense of humor, the next thought slipped in uninvited: I wish they had invited me to be in that debate. Obviously. I should have been there. Talking in front of millions.
That same week, I sat down with John 1:19. And the conviction landed before the coffee got cold.
The Gospel of John is famous for Jesus's I AM statements. I am the bread of life. I am the good shepherd. I am the way, the truth, the life. But before Jesus says any of those, the gospel hands the microphone to a wild man in the desert who builds the runway with three I AM NOT statements first. Maybe John the Apostle is hinting at something for us, too: maybe we have to know who we're not before we can see who Jesus is.
John the Baptist was the celebrity nobody asked for. He lived in the wilderness, dressed funny, ate bugs, and yelled about a coming king. Crowds streamed out of Jerusalem to find him. So the religious establishment finally sent investigators with the question we still keep asking: Who are you? John answered in three crisp negatives. I am not the Christ. I am not Elijah. I am not the prophet — three titles every faithful Jew of his time was waiting for. He refuses them all. He could have taken any of them. He could have leveraged that crowd into the kind of platform people kill for. He turns it down without even a moment's pause.
Now, if you've read Matthew, this should give you whiplash. Jesus, in Matthew 11, says yes, John was the Elijah who was to come. So why does John deny it? I think Jesus is speaking from the divine perspective — He wrote the prophecy in Malachi, after all. He knows. John, from his very human perspective, refuses any title that might make people stop and stare at him instead of looking past him to the one he was sent to point out.
So the priests press him. Then why are you baptizing? John's answer is one of the most beautiful sentences in the gospel: I baptize with water — but someone greater is standing among you, whom you don't recognize. He comes after me, and I'm not even worthy to untie his sandals. He's basically saying: I'm out here dunking people until I see Jesus. That's the whole point. The water doesn't save anyone. It's a sign. A signpost. A means of grace pointing past me to the one who actually saves.
That's the deeper move John is making — and it lands across our whole sacramental life. Baptism, communion, this church, my preaching, your testimony, your kindness to your neighbor — none of it is the thing that saves anyone. It's all the river the Saved One walks through. We are not the Lamb. We're the finger pointing at the Lamb.
Which brings me, embarrassed, back to my YouTube yelling. The conviction that morning was uncomfortable and clear. I had wanted to be somebody else. I had wanted the platform, the audience, the Q&A in the hall full of millions. And the word the Spirit had for me was simple: but I sent you right here. To this city. To these neighbors. To these four kids. To this Sunday. You don't have to wait for the big stage to point at Jesus. You can do it from where your feet are.
So this is the part I want to leave you with — four questions, John-shaped, to carry into this week.
Identity. Who am I? And maybe more importantly, who am I not? What title have I been quietly trying to claim that isn't mine?
Attention. Where is my life pointing? When people look at how I spend my time, money, and words — does any of it point past me, to Jesus?
Encounter. Do I know a lot about God, or have I actually walked with Him recently? When was the last time I let Him be near?
Witness. Name one person in your life right now who's searching. Am I praying for them? Am I available?
My prayer is that I could be more like John this week. That I could lay down the titles I keep reaching for, declare away the baggage that keeps the spotlight stuck on me, and just keep pointing — steady, unembarrassed, on repeat — to the one who actually saved me.
I am not the Christ.
Thank God I don't have to be.
