How did John the Baptist go from mouthy, hellfire and brimstone preacher to beaten, cringing dungeon-dweller? And I don't mean, "how did John offend Herod." The man who cried, "Brood of vipers!" last week and who foretold the coming of a fiery judge now longs to know, "Are you the one?" Where is the old self-assurance? Does John truly not know the implication of Jesus' work, or does he see the writing on the wall, that his days as Preacher of the Year are over? Does John's religious longing recognize that this finally is the Messiah on whose appearing he has staked his whole career? Or is John the Baptist-the guy who can read God's signs in the faces of the crowds-is John doubting Jesus' credentials?

The gospel of Matthew doesn't claim John and Jesus are cousins nor does it imply the two met at Jesus' baptism dinner to map out complementary preaching careers. This Jesus isn't the Messiah John led us to expect. He's no fire-breathing judge. Nor is he the mover and shaker we expect-no Harvard MBA with smart objectives and measurable and achievable goals for the coming kingdom. This Messiah afflicts the comfortable as much as he comforts the afflicted. Jesus helps people tell the truth about their longing when he asks, "What did you expect?" He uses coded word images for his rhetorical questions. Were you looking for political or military power? The reed was Herod's power symbol. Were you looking for a life of luxury, the American Dream (soft robes)? Were you looking for a prophet-someone to vicariously question and answer, so you can merely observe and can leave the search to others. The Messiah comes, but in ways we don't expect, hiding in plain sight.

John the Baptist isn't the only one with spiritual longing. Because humans were created with a longing for God, it's part of being human to try to fill that longing. Some of us notice this longing for what it is-a God-shaped hole in our lives. Some of us just try to quiet the noise which, if we're honest, is just as much trouble as experiencing the longing. Whether we recognize it or hush it, there is in each of us a sense of expectation and hope that this time we'll find what we're looking for.

Larry's faith was nourished by stories of martyred saints living on moldy bread crusts begged from townspeople. To Larry, the perfection of faith was passive acceptance of whatever God gave him. The more unquestioning the passivity, the deeper the spirituality. Each fast or denial submissively received brought him closer to the perfection of the martyrs. He was truly miserable, which didn't make sense for one so near perfection. His question to the fasts and suffering, "Are you the one?" doubted the church partyline.

Jimmah and Bobby Rae never experienced doubt. They were the Gospel Couple, their lives and marriage devoted to spreading the gospel to teens. They were so dynamic that a single congregation was potatoes too small for them. They needed a state-wide network of non-denominational youth clubs. Their appetite for admiration by teens grew. Their drive to make a place for themselves in the minds of adults as authorities on teen evangelism grew. Their desperation to fill the longing for more grew with each club they started. The next one would be bigger, better. Each new club, each new twist on the fame and power re-enacted their question, "Will this be 'enough'? Are you the one?"

Gail and Mike asked that question differently. They used their marriage. When they married, their promises to each other were in the context of their baptismal vows. It's good theology, but the relationship became "a public witness of their faith." Their marital problems weren't about changing roles and expectations once the kids were gone. Their problems were a microcosm of the cosmic coming of the kingdom of God. One of them would find scriptural evidence for needed improvements in the other. The other would retaliate by making a retreat on spirituality, resenting the first one for not going. Telling the truth about the other, all their energy was spent on getting the other to meet what each knew to be God's expectations. Each new counseling venture was approached as the patent snake oil medicine. Desperation drove their relentless question, "Will this save our marriage? Are you the one?"

Frank was a retired workaholic-if there is such a thing as a "retired" workaholic. Since retiring, his time had been focused on dealing with health issues. Forty-five years of work to the exclusion of all else had postponed dues his body wanted paid. There had been a wife, but she was no longer part of the story. There was, however, a daughter who pointed out to him all his healthcare short-comings. She ranted at Frank about being "colossally unself-aware," while Frank raged at her "self-important know-it-all" attitude. When she stressed nutritional self-discipline, Frank ate salty fatty fast food and snacks. When she urged exercise, Frank chained himself to the internet. When she pointed out connections between his physical health and spiritual state, inviting a disciplined care of his body/mind/spirit health, Frank looked for new doctors. What had made him successful in his career was motivating the work of others. Now, it was the only tool he had left. Unable to participate in his own life, he met each new pain or health challenge with a fresh prescription and a hopeful, "Are you the one?"

The daily-ness of Deborah's life after the cancer diagnosis focused on getting to treatments, living with pain and nausea, working thru exhaustion. As she neared the end of treatments, her challenge became transitioning from being a "cancer patient" to being a "cancer survivor." The cancer diagnosis became a graduate level course in spirituality, opening her eyes to how she had been asking "Are you the one?" of the wrong things. Cancer changed her focus to life, helped her set aside addictions to shopping, to over-scheduling her time, to intense but self-destructive relationships, to the latest self-help explanations of why she did these things. Cancer focused her attention on the God-shaped hole in her life, the grace of appropriately asking, "Are you the one?"

Mindy finished high school as everyone's nominee for "Most likely--" Most likely to be in People magazine, most likely to be elected to Congress, most likely to run a Fortune 500 company. High school was about success-clubs, studies, volunteer work, mission projects. Eventually, though it took leaving home and growing up, she saw that her active pursuit of success was part of a deeper question about who she was. "Are you the one?" wasn't supposed to be asking whether she was the Messiah. "Are you the one?" was a question directed to God, who waited patiently while Mindy came to realize her race toward success was a God-longing.

It's a longing all have, whether we define it like Mindy as something our success accomplishes, or like Larry by passively accepting whatever comes our way. The God-with-us longing we stifle like Frank or blame on each other like Gail and Mike. The need for Emmanuel we confuse with doing The Lord's Work for the sake of our own fame and fortune like Jimmah and Bobby Rae. "What did you go out to see?" indeed. If you expect to recognize Emmanuel, God-with-us, understand the Messiah comes in ways we don't expect. That God became human means we can look for the Messiah in the ordinary-ness of our lives. "Are you the one?" Jimmah and Bobby Rae are not wrong to evangelize teens. But fame as the point of their work might distract them from revealing Emmanuel. It's not Frank's retirement that keeps him from the inward journey to the presence of God. Deborah might not have needed cancer to open her eyes to her addictions. Recognize your longing for what it is-a God-shaped hole in your life-and expect God to show up. Continue to ask, "Are you the one?" And expect to have your breath taken away as you hear the joyful good news: God came, God comes even now. Emmanuel. God with us.