[Note: This sermon expounds Matthew 11:1–11 as part of the continuing study of the Lord's teaching in Matthew. Delivered 28 August 1977, Montreal.]
John the Baptist is in prison. He is there because he rebuked Herod for taking his brother Philip's wife — an act of moral courage that cost him his freedom and would eventually cost him his life. While in prison, reports reach him about what Jesus is doing: healing the sick, befriending publicans and sinners, being received as a guest in their homes. These reports disturb John deeply, and he sends his disciples to ask: "Are you the one who is to come, or shall we wait for another?"
This question is not disbelief. It is confusion about method. John's entire ministry had centred on the coming of judgment — he had preached about the winnowing floor, the chaff that would be burned with unquenchable fire, the axe laid at the root of the tree. He had prepared the way for a Messiah who would come in judgment and power. Now the Messiah he has announced is healing blind people, raising the dead, and sitting down to eat with sinners. The question in John's heart is: is this really him — or is there someone else to come who will bring the judgment I proclaimed?
The Lord Jesus sends John's disciples back with a message drawn entirely from Isaiah: "Go and tell John what you hear and see — the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them." Each element corresponds to specific prophecies in Isaiah 29:18–20, 35:5–6, and 61:1 — the Messianic prophecies John would have known thoroughly. Jesus is saying: the one you announced is here; these signs confirm it; the method is not what you expected, but the identity is beyond question.
Then the Lord declares, before the crowds, that John the Baptist is greater than any person born of women. This is an extraordinary statement — greater than Moses, who led Israel out of Egypt and performed miraculous signs before Pharaoh; greater than David, the man after God's own heart; greater than Solomon, whose wisdom was unparalleled. And yet John performed no miracles, healed no one, organised no institution, built no church. The scholars have been puzzled by this declaration. What is the basis of John's greatness? It is not the quantity of his deeds. It is not the scope of his works. It is the quality of his person.
There is an important lesson embedded in the Lord's immediate addition: "Yet the one who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he." This has occupied scholars greatly. If John is the greatest born of women, and yet the least in the kingdom is greater — what does this mean? The answer is not that everyone who becomes a Christian is automatically greater than John in personal stature. The answer lies in understanding who "the least" is. But that will become clear in Part B.
An illustration captures something of the spirit of this whole passage. I once knew an Anglican pastor in Liverpool — a man of genuine humility and Christ-like character. On one occasion I was with him when he sat on the floor and played with a child named Ewing, completely at ease, with no concern for dignity or position. On another occasion, at a wedding, while everyone was watching the bride walk up the aisle, he was quietly talking to the bridegroom, making sure the man was all right. That informal quality — the complete absence of self-importance — is closer to what God calls greatness than all the ceremonies and titles the world bestows.
# The Greatness of John the Baptist — Matthew 11:1–11 (Part B) — God's Pattern of Choosing the Least; John's Humility; The Least in the Kingdom
[Note: This is Part B of the sermon on Matthew 11:1–11, continuing directly from Part A. Delivered 28 August 1977, Montreal.]
God consistently chooses the least. This is his pattern throughout Scripture. Joseph was the youngest of his brothers and was sold into slavery — rejected, imprisoned, forgotten. Gideon belonged to the weakest clan in Manasseh, and his family was the least in his clan, and he himself was the least in his family. David was the youngest of Jesse's sons, the one nobody thought to call when Samuel came to anoint a king. It is not coincidence; it is God's deliberate pattern. He chooses what the world discards and exalts what the world despises.
I know something of this from my own experience. There were three years in China when I had almost nothing — one shirt that went from white to yellow to brown as the months passed, ribs visible through the skin. I was nobody. And yet it was precisely in that condition that God was doing some of his deepest work. The spiritual greatness God produces is not measured by the quantity of deeds accomplished or the number of people who know your name. It is measured by the quality of the person — by what you are before God when no one is watching.
John the Baptist's humility is extraordinary when you consider his history. Gabriel announced his birth — an honour reserved for only the most significant figures in God's plan. He was filled with the Holy Spirit from his mother's womb. He came from a priestly family. Yet when people came in their thousands to hear him preach in the wilderness, his self-description was simply: "I am a voice." Not a prophet, not a priest, not a leader — just a voice. When asked if he was the Messiah, or Elijah, or the Prophet, he said: "I am not worthy to untie the sandal of the one who comes after me." And when told that Jesus was baptising more people than John and his disciples were troubled by it, John's answer was: "He must increase, I must decrease." Compare this with Jonah, who sulked bitterly when Nineveh repented and the judgment he had proclaimed did not come. John's joy in decreasing for the sake of Christ is the mark of true greatness.
Matthew 11 is a chapter about humility throughout. When you trace the theme carefully, you find it everywhere — in John's self-effacement, in Jesus' answer to John's question (which does not exalt himself but simply points to what God is doing), in the Lord's invitation at the end of the chapter: "Come to me, all who labour and are heavy-laden... I am gentle and lowly in heart." James 4:10 and 1 Peter 5:5 both state the same principle: God resists the proud and gives grace to the humble.
Now the puzzle: "The least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than John." Who is this "least"? The word in Greek is a singular superlative — the one who is least, not just anyone who happens to be in the kingdom. The answer the text points toward is Jesus himself. Philippians 2 describes the movement: equal with God → took the form of a servant → became obedient to death, even death on a cross → therefore God highly exalted him. Luke 9:48 records the Lord's own words: "He who is least among you all is the one who is great." Matthew 12 then establishes that Jesus is greater than the temple, greater than Jonah, greater than Solomon — and greater than John. The one who made himself the least of all is the greatest of all. This is what God exalts: not strength and success and visible achievement, but the humility that descends for the sake of others and trusts God to raise it up in due time. Those dear believers in China who are in prison being treated as criminals — God sees them, and God will exalt them.