Letters to the Faithful - John 1:24
Berean Standard Bible
Then the Pharisees who had been sent
King James Bible
And they which were sent were of the Pharisees.
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To all who are called by the name of Christ, the faithful across generations, the seekers of truth, the heirs of the promise, and the laborers in the vineyard of the Lord: grace and peace be multiplied to you through God our Father and through our Lord Jesus Christ, the Light of the world, the Word made flesh, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. May your hearts be illuminated with understanding and your spirits strengthened in the knowledge of the truth, as we consider the weight and wonder of the Word that has come to dwell among us.
Let us meditate upon the words recorded in the Gospel of John: “Now they had been sent from the Pharisees.” At first glance, this verse may appear insignificant—a simple statement of origin, a historical footnote. But within it is contained a subtle yet profound truth regarding the nature of authority, the posture of the religious spirit, and the contrasting ways in which heaven and earth respond to divine revelation. This brief notation introduces us to the dynamic tension that unfolds throughout the Gospel and the life of Christ Himself: the conflict between spiritual power and religious control, between the voice crying in the wilderness and the voice of institutional suspicion.
The Pharisees, to whom this delegation belonged, were not evil in their origin. They were devoted to law, to tradition, to purity of worship. They were zealous for God, yet in their zeal, they often missed the very heart of the God they claimed to serve. And when John the Baptist arose, a voice not trained in their schools nor sanctioned by their systems, proclaiming repentance and announcing the coming of One far greater than himself, the Pharisees sent men to inquire—not with open hearts, but with guarded suspicion. They did not come to behold the truth, but to interrogate it. They came not to hear heaven, but to defend tradition. The presence of divine movement stirred in them not wonder, but control.
And this, dear saints, is a danger that still walks among us today—the danger of allowing our religious structures to become barriers to divine encounter. The Pharisees sent men to John not to celebrate the coming of the Messiah, but to question the legitimacy of the forerunner. Their focus was not on preparing their hearts, but on preserving their positions. Their concern was not on what God was doing, but on who was doing it and whether He had permission to do so.
How often do we see this same spirit at work in our time? When revival breaks out in unexpected places, when the Spirit moves through unconventional voices, when the Word comes wrapped in humility and not in prestige—do we discern with the Spirit or do we react with suspicion? Do we investigate with hunger, or do we interrogate with fear? Have we become so bound to our expectations of how God must move that we reject Him when He does not conform to our systems?
The delegation sent from the Pharisees asked John, “Who are you?” and “Why are you baptizing?” But they missed the most important question: “What is God saying through you?” They were more concerned with credentials than with calling. More interested in defending their boundaries than in discerning the truth. And John, in humility, made no claim to greatness. He pointed not to himself, but to the One who stood among them, unrecognized by them—the One whose sandals he was not worthy to untie.
O Church, let us take heed. Let us not be found among those who send representatives to question, but who do not enter the water themselves. Let us not watch the prophetic voice from a distance while holding tightly to our forms and our fears. Let us not require that every move of God be vetted through our personal traditions before we bless it. Instead, let us be those who live in expectation, who listen with spiritual ears, who recognize the stirrings of heaven even when they come in wilderness garments.
There is a practical call here for all who believe. We must cultivate hearts that are responsive to God more than to man. We must be willing to follow the voice of the Spirit, even when it leads us beyond the borders of the familiar. We must be lovers of truth, even when it confronts our systems. We must be willing to decrease, that He may increase. For Christ is often present in our midst in ways we do not expect, and if we are not watchful, we will miss Him—not because He is hidden, but because we are distracted.
Are we sending questions when we should be bringing repentance? Are we investigating when we should be worshiping? Are we demanding explanations when we should be falling to our knees? The religious leaders were near the waters of baptism, but far from the transformation it signified. They were close in proximity, but distant in posture.
Beloved, let us be the opposite. Let us run to the water with hearts eager to be washed. Let us recognize the voice in the wilderness and not dismiss it for lack of polish. Let us prepare the way of the Lord in our own hearts, not merely with words, but with surrender. Let us forsake our need for control and take up the call to yield. Let us stop sending representatives and come ourselves to behold the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world.
The Pharisees were meant to prepare Israel for the Messiah. Instead, they became gatekeepers of a system that could not receive Him. May it never be so with us. May we be known not as those who questioned the fire but as those who carried it. Not as those who criticized the forerunner but as those who joined in the call: “Make straight the way of the Lord.”
In every generation, God raises up voices to prepare His people. They may not come from the centers of power. They may not wear the garments of religious authority. But they speak with fire, with urgency, and with truth. Let us be ready to hear them. Let us humble ourselves to receive what they carry. And let us always remember that the One we seek to serve may already be walking among us—unseen, unrecognized, but powerfully present.
To Him who came once in humility and shall come again in glory, to the Lamb who walks among the candlesticks and baptizes not only with water but with the Holy Spirit and fire, be all praise and honor. May we be found ready, discerning, humble, and faithful—watching not for whom man has sent, but for Him whom God has revealed.
Amen.
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Almighty and Everlasting God, Creator of heaven and earth, Sovereign over every age and ruler over every heart, we come before You in humility and holy awe. You are the God who sees the end from the beginning, who discerns the motives of every heart, who weighs every spirit and searches every word. You are the God of truth and not of pretense, the God of light and not of shadows, the One who calls from the wilderness and speaks through the lowly, confounding the wisdom of the proud and resisting the spirit of religious control.
We bow before You, Father, not merely to speak, but to be searched. We ask that You examine us, not only in our behavior but in our posture. Search us for hidden pride, for subtle resistance to Your movement, for any impulse within us that seeks to test what should be received, to question what You have confirmed, or to withhold from You the reverence due to Your presence. We are reminded, Lord, of those who came from the Pharisees—not with open hearts to receive, but with skeptical minds to evaluate. They stood near the banks of the Jordan, close to the sound of repentance, close to the man ordained to prepare the way, and yet their hearts remained distant, hardened by tradition and shielded by a confidence in their own system.
And we ask You now, Lord, spare us from that same spirit. Deliver us from the arrogance of human religion that demands credentials instead of discernment, that looks for permission where You have already spoken, that prioritizes control over obedience. Forgive us, Father, for the times when we, too, have approached Your work like investigators instead of worshipers. For the times we’ve inquired about the vessel instead of seeking the treasure. For the times we’ve sent questions when You were calling for repentance.
O God, teach us to tremble before the moments when You are speaking. Teach us to recognize the sound of Your voice in the wilderness, even when it is not wrapped in the garments of prestige or polish. Help us not to judge the messenger by his appearance or background, but to discern the anointing that rests upon him. Let us not repeat the mistake of those who were sent to interrogate John while the Messiah Himself stood unrecognized among them.
How often do You send a word, Lord, and we miss it because it did not arrive in the form we expected? How often do You move by Your Spirit, and we resist because it does not fit within our familiar boundaries? How often do we see the works of Your hand and yet question the legitimacy because they arise from wilderness voices and not from the halls of our approval?
So now, Father, we pray for purified eyes and circumcised ears. We pray that You would make us sensitive to Your movements and quick to recognize the fragrance of Your presence. Help us to lay down every filter of suspicion that comes not from discernment but from fear or pride. Let us not be the kind of people who need to be sent to investigate a move of God—let us be the ones who run toward it with hearts ready to receive and obey.
We ask for Your mercy, Lord, on behalf of Your Church, that we would not become gatekeepers of systems that resist the Spirit. Let us not value preservation over transformation. Let us not be more committed to our traditions than to Your truth. Let us never place our fear of losing control above our hunger to see Your kingdom come. Tear down, O God, every tower we have built in our own name, every system that has become more important than the Spirit’s flow, every altar that bears the name of man rather than the name of Jesus.
Raise up among us those who walk in the spirit of John—not craving applause, not seeking status, not building platforms, but burning with the fire of heaven. And make us a people who can recognize and receive those voices. Let us not stand at a distance, questioning, while the kingdom draws near. Let us not send representatives with agendas, but come ourselves with repentance. Let us not miss the day of Your visitation because we were busy defending our routines.
O Lord, we know that You are doing a new thing. You are raising up voices from Nazareth, from the wilderness, from forgotten places and unlikely people. You are moving outside of our expected structures and shining Your light in unexpected places. May we have the humility to follow where You lead, to hear what You speak, and to welcome those whom You send.
Let our lives, Lord, be an altar of yieldedness. Let us be found not standing with arms crossed in the posture of the Pharisee, but kneeling in the dust, ready to receive the Lamb of God. Let the spirit of religion be cast down and the Spirit of truth be exalted. Let all who come near Your movement come not to test it but to be transformed by it.
We yield ourselves, Father, to be vessels of Your will, voices for Your Word, and laborers in Your harvest. Burn away our pride, cleanse our motives, and make us quick to obey, slow to criticize, and always ready to honor what You are doing, even when it offends our expectations. Let our worship be pure, our discernment sharp, and our devotion unwavering.
We ask these things in the holy and exalted name of Jesus Christ, the One who stood among His people unnoticed, the One who was questioned and rejected by the proud but embraced by the humble. To Him be glory and honor forever.
Amen.
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