And when they saw him they were amazed and his mother said to him, Child, why hast thou dealt thus with us? behold, thy father and I have sought thee distressed.
Joseph and Mary find the twelve-year-old Jesus in the temple after three days of searching, and His mother speaks first. Her few words raise large questions. What did she call Him? Why did she give Joseph the place of His Father? Why had they not looked here first?
Behind "Son" here lies a Greek word meaning "child." It is a warm, family word. No other passage in the Bible uses it of Jesus.
There is one use of the word teknon (child) worth noting, because it bears on the person of the Lord. We use it in the same affectionate way ourselves: "My child, go and do such-and-such" (see Matthew 9:2; Matthew 21:28). His mother speaks to the Lord this way in Luke 2:48: "Child, why have you treated us so?" But no other passage applies this word to Him. Perhaps it is not used of Him because He was never less than "God over all." It would be inconsistent to use a word that implies life and nature derived from another.
Mary's question is not neutral. One writer looks first at the three lost days, then at what her words reveal.
For three days He was lost to them. May this not be a reminder of the three days He was thought lost by His disciples? Here the human weakness of Mary comes to light. She was nervously anxious. Her words have an accusing tone. Her greatest mistake was to name Joseph as "your Father." … He corrects His fallible mother, who had said, "your Father and I." His Father, He declares, is the One whose house He had entered. It is the first self-witness to His Deity.
Commentators differ on how far to press this. Another writer sees the same two details but will not call them failures. He traces them to natural feeling, and to her deep love for her Child.
Two things stand out in her words to Jesus. The first is the implied reproach in them. The second is that she includes Joseph with herself: "your father." We need not mark these things as failures, though we cannot doubt that they sprang from purely natural feelings and relationships. On the other hand, it is just as clear that the manner of her speech came out of her intense affection for her perfect Child.
Her distress was real. But the Lord's answer turned her question back on the search itself.
He could not accept any reproof. His two questions were gentle reproofs in return. What was the reason they had sought Him? If God's will had been their concern, it would have led them straight to Him. Did they not realise that He would occupy Himself with His Father's interests? … Most children at that age would have only slight interest in the temple, or in the learning of the teachers of the law. But did they not expect Him to have a vital interest in it? This should have been the first place they looked for Him.
So why was He in the temple? One writer points to a claim that outweighed every other. He cites the Lord's reply in older wording — "about my Father's business," where the ESV reads "in my Father's house."
Our blessed Lord was devoted to the glory of God and to the interests of His house. This devotion lifted Him above every natural claim that anyone might urge against Him. So when Mary found Him in the temple and asked why He had treated them so, He replied, "Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be about my Father's business?" The Father's claim was absolute in His soul. He had come to do His Father's will, and that claim shut out every other. Acknowledging it always was His unceasing delight. It was His daily food.
That higher claim did not cancel the lower one. He went home with Joseph and Mary and lived under their authority.
From early youth our Lord had the consciousness of being the Son of God above all earthly claims. But exactly as grace acknowledges the law, so the eternal Son acknowledges His human place as the child of Mary. He declared and proved that in His own consciousness He was truly the Son of the Father, and that He must therefore be about His Father's business. It was neither open to Him nor possible for Him to set aside His Father's will. That will was the first object before His heart. Yet with all this devotion as Son of God, and though His parents did not understand what He said, He went down with them to Nazareth and was in subjection to them.
- The word. Mary calls Him by the tender family word for "child" — the only place in the Bible where it is used of Him.
- The slip. In "your father and I" she gives Joseph a place that belongs to another. His reply corrects her.
- The search. They searched everywhere but the temple. Had God's will been their concern, they would have gone there first.
- The claim. One claim was absolute in Him: His Father's will. It lifted Him above every natural tie.
- The return. The same claim sent Him home to Nazareth in subjection. The higher relationship never cancelled the lower duty.
And he said to them, Why [is it] that ye have sought me? did ye not know that I ought to be [occupied] in my Father's business?
Luke gives us one scene from the childhood of Jesus: a boy of twelve, left behind in Jerusalem and found three days later among the teachers in the temple. His reply to His mother is the first thing Luke records Him saying, and it raises the question that shapes the whole Gospel: whose Son is He?
One writer sets His first recorded words beside His last.
He came, not to do His own will, but the will of Him who sent Him. His "Father's business" is His first recorded saying (see Luke 2:49). "It is finished" fell last from His blessed lips, before He bowed His head and gave up His spirit (see John 19:30).
Mary's words in the previous verse carry a reproach. He answers with questions of His own.
Joseph and Mary were amazed. Mary reproached Him for having been absent from them all this time. But He could not accept any reproof. He answered with two questions that were reproofs to them, though gentle. What was the reason they had sought Him? If they had been exercised as to the will of God, they would have been unerringly led to Him. … The temple should have been the first place they looked for Him, for it was His first chance to ask the learned men about matters of vital importance.
Mary had spoken of Joseph as His father. His answer replaces that word with another.
Here the human weakness of Mary comes to light. She was nervously anxious. Her words have an accusing tone. The greatest mistake she made was mentioning Joseph as "your father." But how wonderful the answer of the twelve-year-old boy! He is astonished that they should have sought Him; He came to seek them. He is astonished that they did not know that He had to be about His Father's business. What an answer it is! These are His first words recorded in the Gospels. He corrects His fallible mother, who had said, "your father and I." His Father, He declares, is the One in whose house He had gone. It is the first self-witness to His Deity.
The ESV reads "in my Father's house." Older versions read "about my Father's business." Commentators differ over which is right. One held that the second is the plain sense.
In Luke 2:49 they translate "I must be in my Father's house," putting the evident sense "about my Father's business" in the margin.
Another writer gives the literal sense, then points to what the boy did next.
The literal meaning is, "Did you not know that I must be in the things of My Father?" His Father's 'things' were the very atmosphere in which He lived. Yet see Him, the Lord of Glory, return with His parents to that humble home; and there He "was submissive to them."
Here Jesus claims a place above His family. The next verse has Him go home under their authority.
From His early youth our Lord had the consciousness of being the Son of God above all earthly claims. But just as grace acknowledges the law, so the eternal Son acknowledges His human place as the child of Mary. He asserted and proved that in His own consciousness He was really the Son of the Father. So He must be about His Father's business. It was not open to Him, nor possible for Him, to set aside His Father's will. This was the first object before His heart. He was devoted as the Son of God, and His parents did not understand what He said. Still, He comes down with them "to Nazareth and was submissive to them."
Luke says His parents did not understand Him. That was not the end of the matter.
When Jesus, at the age of twelve, said to His parents, "Did you not know that I must be about My Father's business," it must have been a riddle to them. As it says, "They did not understand the saying that He spoke to them." But "His mother treasured up all these things in her heart." The time came when she received, with His disciples, the gift of the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of sonship. Then she would be able to cry with all His own, "Abba, Father," and enter into the meaning of what Jesus had said so long before.
- First words. His first recorded saying is about His Father's business. His last, on the cross, is "It is finished" — one purpose begun and finished.
- First Father. Mary said "your father and I." He answered "My Father" — His first witness to His own Deity.
- First business. The phrase literally means being "in the things of My Father" — not a task He picked up, but the air He lived in.
- First place, not the only place. Knowing Himself the Son of God did not loosen the claims of home. He went back to Nazareth and was subject to Joseph and Mary.
- First lesson kept. His parents did not understand Him. Mary kept the words until the Spirit of sonship taught her to say "Abba, Father" for herself.
And they understood not the thing that he said to them.
Luke gives us one glimpse into Jesus' boyhood. It ends oddly. The two people closest to Him miss what He has just said. The words were simple, and the speaker was their own child. So what was in that saying? And why was being close to Jesus not enough to grasp it?
His answer in the temple was not an excuse for staying behind. It was a statement about who He is and what He came for.
In answering His mother, Jesus declared that He knew His own divine relationship. He also announced that He had come to do His Father's will. Mary had said of Joseph to Jesus, "Your father." The answer was that He had remained in Jerusalem because, as He said, "I must be about My Father's business." His Father's will was to be the supreme law of His life, and it was His joy to acknowledge it. In acknowledging it He answered Mary's question in full and removed the open reproach she had made. No wonder they "did not understand the saying that He spoke to them."
(The writers quote an older translation: "about my Father's business." The ESV reads "in my Father's house.")
Their failure was not slow wits. He had spoken of something they had no share in — a relationship that only became theirs after the cross.
His mother rebuked Him for the anxiety they had felt because of Him. He answered her, and this is His first recorded sentence: "Did you not know that I must be about my Father's business?" But they did not understand the saying. No; for He spoke of His delight in a relationship they could not yet know. But "the grace of God was upon Him." He could call God His Father. In the same way, after He had accomplished redemption, He told Mary Magdalene to pass on the knowledge of that same relationship to His disciples: "His Father and their Father." (See John 20:17.) Blessed redemption!
Mary had just spoken of Joseph as His father. His reply set that aside, and it exposed how little they expected of Him.
Joseph and Mary were amazed. Mary reproached Him for having been absent from them all this time. But He could not accept any reproof. He answered with two questions that were reproofs to them, though gentle. What was the reason they had sought Him? If they had been concerned about the will of God, it would have led them straight to Him. Did they not realise that He would occupy Himself with His Father's interests? Mary had said, "Your father and I," but He set this aside with His words, "My Father's business." Did they expect Him to care only for the company of other children at such a time, and to have no interest in the temple, the very centre of Israel's interests? This should have been the first place they looked for Him.
Being misunderstood did not change how He lived with them.
So from early youth our Lord was conscious of being the Son of God, above all earthly claims… In His own consciousness He was truly the Son of the Father; He said so and proved it. So He must be about His Father's business. It was not open to Him, nor possible for Him, to set aside His Father's will. This was the first object before His heart. But He was devoted as Son of God, and His parents did not understand what He said. Despite both, He goes down with them "to Nazareth and was in subjection to them." Meanwhile His mother keeps all these sayings, little understood, in her heart.
Mary did not drop what she could not explain. She stored it, and that storing was itself the road to understanding.
Understanding is of the heart (Matt. 13:15). It was in her heart that Mary kept the deep sayings about the Christ, and in secret she kept pondering them so that she might eventually understand (Luke 2:19, 51).
Writers point to the moment when the puzzle opened for her.
When Jesus, at the age of twelve, said to His parents, "Did you not know that I must be about My Father's business," it must have been a riddle to them. As it says, "They did not understand the saying that He spoke to them." But "His mother kept all these sayings in her heart." The time came when she received, with His disciples, the gift of the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of sonship. Then she could cry with all His own, "Abba, Father," and enter into the meaning of what Jesus had said so long before.
- Spoken — His first recorded words declare His own relationship to His Father and the will He came to do.
- Missed — they did not understand because He spoke of a relationship they had no part in yet. The words were plain; the standing was not theirs.
- Corrected — Mary said "your father and I"; He answered "My Father." His gentle reproof met both their search and their low expectation of Him.
- Obeyed — the misunderstanding changed nothing: He went down to Nazareth and stayed subject to them.
- Kept — Mary stored the sayings in her heart and pondered them. When the Spirit of sonship came, she could say "Abba, Father" and see what He had meant.
And he went down with them and came to Nazareth, and he was in subjection to them. And his mother kept all these things in her heart.
At twelve years old, Jesus had just told Joseph and Mary that He must be about His Father's business. Then He walked home with them and took the place of an ordinary child. The verse holds together two things that seem impossible to hold at once. He knew exactly who He was. He also submitted fully to a mother and father who did not understand Him.
His obedience did not hide His glory. It showed it. He lost nothing by going down to Nazareth.
Still, "He went down with them and came to Nazareth and was submissive to them." What majesty in His whole life! His being God secured His perfection as a child and as a man here on earth. He always had the blessed consciousness of His relationship to His Father. He was an obedient child, yet He was also conscious of a glory that had nothing in itself to do with being under human parents. He belonged to Mary and even Joseph; in another sense He was not theirs.
The same verse shows Him in two relationships at once — to His Father, and to His parents.
At the same time He returns with His parents. He obeys them as dutifully as if He were only a spotless human child — their child. The Son of the Father He was, as really as the Son of man. "He came to Nazareth and was submissive to them." He is the divine person, and yet the perfect man, perfect in every relationship that suited such a person.
The journey to Nazareth did not cancel His answer in the temple. It carried it out. For Him, daily duty and devotion to God were never two separate things.
His reply to Mary in the temple throws a flood of light on all the years between His first Passover and His baptism. By that reply He had clearly defined His position. He was here to be "about His Father's business." So when He was subject to Joseph and Mary, He was doing His Father's will just as much as when He stayed behind in Jerusalem. There was not, and there could not be, any split between His daily life and what people call the more sacred duties.
A few words cover many years at Nazareth. What He did there sets a standard for every child.
Then He went down with them to Nazareth and was "submissive to them." Yes, "submissive to them." Words of deep and mighty meaning. In this way He gave the recognition of parental authority, and submission to it, a wonderful dignity. His own word, in 2 Timothy 3, condemns disobedience to parents. Here He sets the perfect example of the opposite. The lowly grace seen at Bethlehem only grows brighter at Nazareth. So the childhood of Jesus is no less a model for His people than His manhood is.
His obedience was never mechanical. He measured each relationship by what the moment required before God.
He knew when to accept the claims of His mother when she made them. He knew when to refuse them, even though she made them. And He knew when to honour them when she had not asked (Luke 2:51; Luke 8:21; John 19:27).
One more thing marks these years: He never pushed Himself forward.
In the end of the chapter the Lord was in perfect submission — Son of God — but entirely subject. He does nothing at all until called out — what a lesson for us (verse 51).
After this verse the record goes quiet until His baptism. Only one thing is told us about those years.
The veil now drops for eighteen years. Scripture is silent about what took place in them, except that He was subject to His parents. "Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary?" (Mark 6:3) — these seem to be the words of careless, scornful unbelief. But I do not think these eighteen years were idle moments for the Blessed Lord. He was always about His Father's business.
She did not yet understand His words. She kept them anyway, and that keeping was the road to understanding.
It was in her heart that Mary kept the deep sayings about the Christ. In secret she kept pondering them, so that in time she might understand (Luke 2:19, 51).
- Descent. He went down to Nazareth. The One who knew He was the Son took a child's place, and His deity secured His perfection in it.
- Duty. Subjection to Joseph and Mary was not a pause from His Father's business — it was that business, lived out daily.
- Dignity. His obedience gave the honouring of parents a lasting dignity. His childhood is a model as much as His public ministry.
- Discretion. He knew when to accept a claim and when to refuse it, and He never pushed Himself forward.
- Deposit. Mary stored what she could not yet explain. Understanding came later to a heart that kept pondering.
And Jesus advanced in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and men.
Luke's account of Jesus' boyhood closes with a single sentence about growth. Then the record falls silent until He is thirty. That one sentence raises a hard question: how can the One who is God increase in anything?
Commentators take the increase at face value.
Luke gives us more of the reality of His childhood than the other Gospels. He was not made man fully formed like Adam.
Growth and perfection are not rivals here. He was complete at every age, and still growing at every age.
How can we reconcile such statements with His being God Himself, though man? Most clearly He was always perfect. But then He was the perfect Baby, and the perfect Youth, as we shall also find Him in due time to be the perfect Man. At any given moment He was absolutely perfect, and yet He grew.
Verse 40 says the child was filled with wisdom; verse 52 says He increased in it. One writer treats the second as no harder than the first.
"He increased in wisdom." Does this present any difficulty? Certainly no more than that "He was filled with wisdom." Both are true. Both are true of the same complex person who was God and man in one. He was truly God, but as truly man — in infancy, childhood, or maturity — and always consistent with what belongs to each stage of human life.
Another writer leaves the mystery standing, and finds in it the proof of real manhood.
As God He is all-wise. Yet as a child in this world He "grew and became strong in spirit, filled with wisdom; and the grace of God was upon Him" (Luke 2:40)... It is an unsearchable mystery that the source of all wisdom should, as Man, increase in wisdom. But this only brings out the perfection of His Manhood.
The ESV of verse 40 reads, "And the child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom. And the favor of God was upon him." The older wording quoted above adds "in spirit," and that word matters for the next point.
The words of verse 52 also bear on what He took up in becoming man.
Verse 52 of the same chapter says that "Jesus increased in wisdom." These words are difficult, if not impossible, to understand if He did not take a human spirit in becoming man. Wisdom belongs to the spirit rather than to soul or body.
That growth followed a natural order.
There was nothing of unnatural progress in Him: all was orderly increase. His wisdom kept pace with His stature, or age. He was the child first, then the man.
Other writings about His childhood tell a very different story.
There was nothing unnaturally advanced for His age — nothing like the silly stories told in the made-up Gospels — only absolute purity in every relationship.
The favour was no courtesy. It answered to what He was. And the human half of it did not last.
Also He increased in favour with God and man. This favour (or grace) was because of a character that fully deserved it. Each day of His life was a fresh occasion of delight to the heart of God the Father. Man too could not ignore it, and appreciated it — until He began to press the claims of God upon men. It was like Saul, who loved David until he realised that David, by his character and by God's will, was entitled to be the king of Israel (1 Sam. 16:21; 18:6-11).
The setting of this growth is Nazareth, and the shape of it is obedience to Joseph and Mary.
Then He went down with them to Nazareth and was "subject to them." Words of deep and mighty meaning. This gave wonderful dignity to recognizing parental authority and obeying it... So the childhood of Jesus is no less a model for His people than His manhood.
Scripture tells us almost nothing about those years. One detail survives.
Then for eighteen years God drops a veil over His life. All we know of that period is this, that when He came out men said, "Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary?" (Mark 6:3). So I conclude that this blessed Son of God, here in human form on earth, worked with His hands. Let no one think, then, that service or toil is a lowly thing to be avoided.
- Real — He was not made man fully formed like Adam. His growth in wisdom, body and favour was real growth, not a show of growth.
- Perfect — He was the perfect Baby, the perfect Youth, the perfect Man. He was perfect at every moment, and still growing.
- Orderly — His wisdom kept pace with His age. Nothing was unnatural, nothing was forced. The made-up childhood stories could not copy that.
- Deserved — the favour rested on a character that merited it. Every day was fresh delight to the Father. Human approval lasted only until He pressed God's claims.
- Hidden — Nazareth, obedience to His parents, a carpenter's work behind the veil. His childhood is as much a model for us as His manhood.
Now in the fifteenth year of the government of Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate being governor of Judaea, and Herod tetrarch of Galilee, and Philip his brother tetrarch of Ituraea and the region of Trachonitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene,
Luke opens this chapter with a list of names and offices: an emperor, a governor, three tetrarchs (each ruling a slice of a divided land), and two high priests. Why does the Gospel date the start of John's ministry by a foreign throne?
Luke dates the scene by an emperor's reign. One writer reads that as a confession of Israel's true state.
Luke gives his dates by counting from the years of the Roman empire. Judea is only a province of that empire, and the Herods are in power. All this was a very humiliating and significant circumstance for Israel — impossible if the people had been faithful to God. But God does not hide the shame of His people. On the contrary, He makes it plain by this very fact: He gives it a record in His own eternal Word, the Word that lives and abides for ever.
Count the offices in the verse and you can measure the damage.
The very description of the time shows the condition of ruin in Israel — of the people under law. Even the appearance of a united kingdom in Israel is gone. Herod's kingdom is quartered, and the tetrarchies stamp the mark of weakness on it. One quarter, Judea itself, lies under a Roman governor. Two Sadducees, Annas and Caiaphas, share the high priesthood between them. Judah is losing its tribal rod, and Shiloh must appear, to gather the peoples.
The verse crowds rulers into a small land, and the priesthood shows the same crowding.
A false king of the Jews, Herod, has his little kingdom in Galilee, with his brother Philip over another portion, and still another ruler in Abilene. The world seems to have no shortage of rulers. The same excess appears in the office of the priesthood itself. Annas and Caiaphas divide between them honours that were theirs not so much by divine right as by Roman political management — though no doubt they were descendants of Aaron.
Everything in the verse suggests order. Government settled, religion staffed, the empire quiet. God's assessment of that calm was the opposite.
He shows us here how still and at rest the whole earth was sitting. The Gentile beast had everything in order, according to its mind (Zechariah 1:11). Tiberius the Roman was emperor, and his governors were ruling their provinces. Judea itself was a part of his strength and a part of his honour. The priests, too, were in their temple. Everything on the earth, both in religion and in government, was just as man would have it. But under the eye of God, all this was a wilderness.
Lysanias was once used as evidence against Luke's accuracy.
"Lysanias." People once questioned Luke's accuracy here. Schürer, working from inscriptions, has confirmed it. There had been another prince of the same name, who died sixty years before this.
Set the emperor beside the preacher, and see which one this passage is about.
This is a most impressive and precise introduction. It is all the more so because of what it shows. In heaven's estimation, John's ministry clearly mattered far more than all the offices held by emperors, tetrarchs and high priests.
Every place named in the verse is a seat of power. The word of God arrives at none of them.
In chapter 3 we have the ministry of God coming in by a prophet, as of old by Samuel. "The word of God came to John the son of Zechariah in the wilderness." The Spirit has a purpose in mentioning the fifteenth year of Tiberius Caesar, and the rest. All the earth seemed to be at rest under its pagan lord. The word of God found its fitting place in the wilderness. The law and the prophets were until John: and where should he be in such a state of things but the wilderness? Could he morally own it? God will not have His messenger in Jerusalem.
John himself matched that separation, though he had every right to stand in the temple.
Though he was of the priestly family, he did not go near the temple in Jerusalem, nor seek any authority from priestly dignitaries before preaching the truth of God... He was not interested in seeking crowds, or he would have begun in the city, but crowds came to him in the wilderness anyway. This was God's doing, not man's.
The list of rulers reads like a record of collapse. That is the moment God chooses.
No change in the world would interfere with the purposes of grace. Nor would the humbling of the Lord's people, the strange pairing of the priests, or the carving up of the land by the foreigner. Grace, on the contrary, loves to take up men and things at their worst, and shows what God is towards the needy.
- Dated — Luke counts the year from Rome's throne. It humbled Israel, and God wrote it into His own permanent record instead of hiding it.
- Divided — a quartered kingdom, a Roman governor over Judea, two men holding one priesthood. These are the marks of ruin, and the sign that Shiloh must come to gather the peoples.
- Deceptive — the empire's calm looked like order to man; to God the whole scene was a wilderness.
- Directed — the word skips emperor, governor and temple. It comes to one man outside the city, and heaven rated his ministry above every office named.
- Deliberate — grace picks this moment on purpose, loving to take up people and situations at their worst.
in the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, [the] word of God came upon John, the son of Zacharias, in the wilderness.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And he came into all the district round the Jordan, preaching [the] baptism of repentance for [the] remission of sins,
Luke fixes John's ministry to a date and a place: the country around the Jordan. Why does his preaching centre on repentance, and how could a baptism be "for the forgiveness of sins" while that forgiveness was still to come?
The careful dating in the opening verses is not decoration. It shows a nation whose order had collapsed, and that collapse shapes what John says.
They show that things were completely out of course. Government was in the hands of the Gentiles. Even in Israel things were in confusion, for there were two high priests instead of one. So repentance was the dominant note in his preaching. Earlier prophets had reasoned with Israel and called them back to the broken law. John no longer does this, but demands repentance.
That ruin is exactly the setting God chooses to work in.
Nothing would interfere with the purposes of grace. Not changes in the world. Not the lowering of the Lord's people. Not the strange pairing of priests. Not the carving up of the land by foreigners. On the contrary, grace loves to take up men and things at their worst, and shows what God is towards the needy.
Repentance marks John out, yet it is not the word that best describes what came after him.
Repentance was what characterised John's preaching. That does not mean repentance was ever less than binding; it always binds every sinful soul that comes to the knowledge of God. Christianity does not lessen repentance; it deepens it. Yet you could not call repentance characteristic of Christianity — faith is much more so... In John the Baptist's preaching it was the emphatic word that described the character of his message.
The place carries meaning. Going down to that river was an admission, not an achievement.
The way of the Lord is prepared only by bringing the mountains down and filling up the valleys. That brings all flesh to a common level before God, so that all may see the salvation of God. So the baptism is to Jordan, the river of death. Men's sins bring them there, not their goodness — but there they find forgiveness.
So what did the phrase mean at the time John preached it?
Still, it was for forgiveness — "a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins." That forgiveness was not present yet, so the baptism could not be a testimony of sins already forgiven. It looked ahead to the One coming, whose forerunner John was.
Set John's task beside what Peter preached later.
His business was to take the nation up on the ground where it stood and call it to repentance. In fact he formed a remnant to receive Christ. Forgiveness of sins was in view for those he baptised... When Peter preaches, he preaches Jesus rejected and exalted, made Lord and Christ... the baptism was to the forgiveness of sins, because the work that gives it fully was now done.
Submitting to this baptism separated a person from the crowd he belonged to.
Through John's baptism the godly remnant took separate ground from the nation as a whole, waiting for the Messiah to come. They judged themselves, and cleared themselves of the sinful condition of the nation. John baptised the Lord too, and so He took His place among the repentant in Israel — not confessing sins, but fulfilling righteousness.
So is John's baptism the same thing as Christian baptism?
Scripture is just as plain that John's baptism is quite distinct from Christian baptism. Some disciples had already received John's baptism, yet they had to be baptised to Christ when they received the full truth of the gospel (Acts 19)... Confessing a coming Messiah is a far cry from confessing His death and resurrection. That difference is the root of differences that carry weighty consequences.
- Ruin first. Two high priests, foreign rulers, a nation off course. Into that mess the word of God comes, because grace takes up men and things at their worst.
- Repentance first. John does not call people back to the law. He demands repentance — the note that marks his whole message. Faith marks what comes after him.
- Jordan first. Sins bring people to the river of death, not their goodness. Mountains come down and valleys fill up, so all flesh stands on one level.
- Forgiveness afterwards. The baptism was for forgiveness, not proof of it. It waited for the One coming to do the work that gives forgiveness fully.
- A prepared people. Those who went down to the water separated themselves from the nation's condition. The Lord Himself stood among them — not confessing sins, but fulfilling righteousness.
as it is written in [the] book of [the] words of Esaias the prophet Voice of one crying in the wilderness Prepare ye the way of [the] Lord, make straight his paths.
John's ministry begins with a quotation, not a fresh idea. Luke grounds it in words Isaiah wrote centuries earlier. The verse then answers two questions: who is this man, and whose road does he clear?
The word of God came to John. Luke then tells us what that word was: a passage from a book.
In chapter 3, we have the testimony of a man who was full of the Holy Spirit from his birth. Our Lord said of him, "Among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist." We read that at a certain time "the word of God came to John." What word of God? "As it is written in the book of the words of Isaiah the prophet," and so on (verses 2, 4).
People pressed John to say who he was. His answer was a sound, not a title:
They were determined to have an answer, and he gives them one. They would force him to speak of himself, and he does. But notice his answer! Who or what was he? Nobody. He was only "a voice." Here was a man of real power and dignity, one of Christ's most remarkable servants, holding the very highest position. His preaching had stirred the hearts of thousands. Angels had announced his birth, and prophets had foretold his ministry. He was the herald of the kingdom, the friend of the King. Yet this remarkable man, when forced to speak of himself, can only be brought to say, "I am a voice." Not even a man, but only a voice.
Luke has just listed the emperor, the governors and the high priests. The cry goes up outside all of it:
Everything was in the most perfect order, as far as man could judge, and as far as man's wisdom could achieve it. You find the emperor in his place, and the priests in their place. Government and religion are all in their due place and order. That is how the chapter begins. It shows you the outward condition of things in this world. There was everything men could value. There was all that could delight the heart of man. There was nothing to shock or offend people. Still all was a wilderness as far as God and light and truth were concerned.
That location changes John's preaching. Earlier prophets called a nation back. This voice speaks where return is no longer on offer:
This is why John the Baptist does not appeal to the people as a whole, as the prophets before him did. He says, "The voice of one crying in the wilderness." Israel was a wilderness for God. From now on the prophet's appeal rests on their ruin beyond repair. The older prophets always appealed on the assumption that the nation could still return to Jehovah.
The words come from Isaiah 40, which calls for a road for God Himself:
These chapters show us our Lord Jesus Christ in His humiliation. So it is no surprise that the first of them (Isaiah 40) hides a testimony to His deity. The voice of one is heard crying in the wilderness, "Prepare the way!" This is the voice of John the Baptist. But whose way is being prepared? All four Gospels answer this important question in perfect harmony, and so does Isaiah 40:3. It is the "way of THE LORD," a "highway for OUR GOD."
"Make His paths straight" asks people to give up the routes they chose for themselves:
John's earlier history is passed over. It was the message he brought, and the right response of his hearers to it, that was all-important. In preparation for receiving Jehovah their King they were to make His paths straight. As His people they were to walk in His paths and not in paths of their own choosing. The demand was for reality and the evidence of it, not natural claim and empty profession.
Matthew ends the quotation sooner than Luke does. The difference has a reason:
The range of Luke is wider… I ask, why is that quotation carried further there? It is all the more striking because Luke, unlike Matthew, does not often quote from the Old Testament. How is it that Luke departs from his habit in this one case? The reason is obvious. His task was to show the grace of God that brings salvation, and that has appeared to all men.
- Word — What came to John was Scripture; his preaching was Isaiah's words handed on, not his own invention.
- Voice — The greatest man born of women reduced himself to a sound. He kept no title for himself — not even a man, only a voice.
- Wilderness — Empire, government and priesthood were all in perfect order. God still called it a desert. The message had to be preached outside the system it exposed.
- Way — John clears the road of Jehovah, and all four Gospels agree on who came down it. The verse quietly states who He is.
- Wideness — Luke runs Isaiah's quotation further than the other Gospels. He writes of grace that reaches past Israel to all.
Every gorge shall be filled up, and every mountain and hill shall be brought low, and the crooked [places] shall become a straight [path], and the rough places smooth ways,
John speaks like a road-builder, and he takes the picture from Isaiah: a way made ready for someone's arrival. So who is coming, and what landscape has to change?
The road-building language makes sense only because of who is coming.
So God's testimony is not tied to His ordinances at Jerusalem, though the righteous do keep them. Nor does the prophet call them back to faithfulness on the ground where they already stood. It is His voice in the wilderness, making His paths straight. So He may come, as from outside, to those who repented and prepared themselves for His coming. And since Jehovah Himself came, His glory would not stay inside the narrow limits of Israel... It is the presence, the coming of God Himself, that here characterises everything.
The landscape is not soil and rock. Each feature stands for people and the way they live.
Valleys would be filled. That is, people who are lowly by choice would be lifted up. But mountains and hills — people who exalt themselves — would be brought low. The crooked stands for twisted principles that people commonly accept, and these would be made straight. Rough ways are the paths where sin has caused trouble and sorrow, and these would be made smooth, for sin would be judged. ... The salvation this prophecy speaks of is accomplished only in the One whose way John was preparing.
So the verse asks each reader which place to take.
These were words of encouragement to everyone to take a low place now. Those who exalt themselves now will be brought low in the day of judgement. The Bible is full of this sentiment. The Lord Jesus "humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name" (Philippians 2:8-9). Paul says to us all: "Have this mind among yourselves." The lesson from the valley is humility.
Flattening land removes every difference of height. The same happens to people before God.
Luke insists more strongly on the way of the Lord. It is prepared only by bringing down the mountains and filling up the valleys. That brings all flesh to a common level before God, so that the salvation of God may be seen by all. So the baptism is to Jordan, the river of death, to which men's sins bring them; and not their goodness, but there they find remission.
The length of the quotation matches the reach of Luke's Gospel.
Now we have John the Baptist acting here according to Isaiah the prophet... Only the Spirit of God in Luke takes care to give it the greatest possible breadth. "...and the rough places shall become level ways, and all flesh shall see the salvation of God." We do not have this last line anywhere else. In Matthew, Mark, and John the quotation stops short of it. But Luke, though he begins with the Jew, does not end with him. He goes right out to all the nations. So the Spirit adds expressions here that give the message its largeness and reach.
Did all of this happen when John preached? One writer says only part of it did.
John's testimony was a call to repentance in view of Messiah's coming... For Israel as a whole was blind and deaf. The testimony was interrupted, and the people refused the Messiah. So it was applied only in part. Their unbelief cut across the thread of God's ways and broke it off. Yet His purposes stand unbreakable. Through that very unbelief they were accomplished in the cross, as they could never otherwise have been. The way of Jehovah was not yet prepared, nor was there a straight highway in the desert for God. God left man to his own responsibility. Man heard the cry and only sinned more. But in time to come God will make everything good in grace by His own power.
- Coming — the road-building is preparation, not scenery. God Himself arrives from outside the old religious order. He does not simply call it back to where it stood.
- Levelling — valleys are the lowly, lifted up. Mountains and hills are the self-exalting, brought down. Crooked ways are twisted principles. Rough places are the trouble sin has caused.
- Common ground — flattening leaves no differences of height. God brings all flesh to one level, and it is sins, not goodness, that bring people to the place of forgiveness.
- Breadth — Matthew and Mark stop the quotation earlier. Luke carries it to "all flesh," reaching past Israel to the nations.
- Waiting — the nation's refusal made the fulfilment partial. God will finish this levelling later, by His own power.
and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.
John's cry in the wilderness ends with a line that reaches far past the crowd in front of him. It reaches past Israel, to every human being on earth. Why does only Luke carry Isaiah's prophecy this far? And what does it mean to see a salvation that belongs to God?
Matthew quotes Isaiah at this same point in the story, but stops earlier. One writer asks why Luke, who quotes the Old Testament less than Matthew, goes further.
In Luke you will find that the prophecy goes farther down. Luke gives us more than the words we have here... The range of Luke is wider... I ask, why does that quotation go farther there? It stands out all the more because Luke usually does not quote much from the Old Testament, compared with Matthew... The reason is clear. His task was to show the grace of God that brings salvation, and that has appeared to all men. The Holy Spirit leads him therefore to fasten upon those words that display the universal range of God's goodness to man.
The reach of verse 6 depends on who is coming.
Note how this quotation from Isaiah speaks of Jehovah coming, and how Jesus clearly fulfils this coming of Jehovah... The One who was about to come was no less than Jehovah. So verse 6 shows that the salvation He would bring would not stay inside the narrow borders of Israel. It would go out to "all flesh." Grace was about to come, and it would overflow in all directions. This grace is one of the special themes of the Gospel of Luke.
Other places where Scripture uses the phrase fix its meaning.
As He is the Father, so He is "the God of the spirits of all flesh" (Num. 16:22, Num. 27:16). Here, as in many other places, "all flesh" means "all men." It simply describes them by what is only their lowest part. So before the flood we read that "all flesh had corrupted their way on the earth" (Gen. 6:12), and in Luke 3:6, "all flesh shall see the salvation of God." In both cases it means all mankind, and only these.
Verse 6 ends a road-building picture. The levelling just before it is moral.
Valleys would be filled. That is, people who are willingly lowly would be lifted up. But mountains and hills — people who lift themselves up — would be brought low. The crooked, meaning twisted principles that people widely accept, would be made straight. Rough ways, the paths where sin has caused trouble and sorrow, would be made smooth, for sin would be judged. He speaks of not only Israel seeing the salvation of God, but "all flesh"... This promised salvation is accomplished only in the One whose way John was preparing.
Isaiah does not say all flesh will hear about salvation. They will see it. One writer ties that seeing to a Person.
Salvation is inseparably linked with the Saviour. There is no salvation without a Saviour. We may think about the truth of salvation. But we only understand it when we look at the glory of the Saviour. Long ago Simeon took the child Jesus into his arms, blessed God and said: "my eyes have seen your salvation" (Luke 2:30). John the Baptist saw Jesus at the start of His public service, and quoted Isaiah's words: "all flesh shall see the salvation of God"... The work of salvation was not yet accomplished, but the one who would accomplish it had appeared.
Was this fulfilled when Jesus came? One writer, commenting on the Isaiah passage John quotes, says the proclamation began at the first coming but did not finish there.
It appears to me that... the cry "all flesh is grass" (Isaiah 40:6) was fulfilled at the first coming, just as much as any part of the proclamation in verses 3-5. It is even plain that this proclamation had only a beginning of fulfilment in the past. Israel's unbelief stopped it.
- God comes. The prophecy announces Jehovah Himself arriving, and that arrival is fulfilled in Jesus.
- So the borders fall. The Coming One is God. His salvation could not stay inside Israel's narrow borders; grace overflows in every direction.
- The ground is levelled. The proud are brought low, the lowly are lifted up, and sin is judged.
- The salvation is a Person. Simeon held it in his arms; John pointed to it. There is no salvation apart from the Saviour who accomplishes it.
- The seeing is not finished. Israel's unbelief stopped the proclamation. It had only a beginning in the past, so more is still ahead.
He said therefore to the crowds which went out to be baptised by him, Offspring of vipers, who has forewarned you to flee from the coming wrath?
Crowds walked out to the Jordan for John's baptism. Instead of welcoming them, he opened with an insult and a question. Why would a preacher sent to prepare the way call willing hearers a nest of snakes? And what is the wrath he assumed they were running from?
Matthew reports the same words, but names a narrower audience.
Matthew 3:7 tells us when John said this. He saw many Pharisees and Sadducees watching him baptize, and he said, "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?" Yet Luke shows that he said it to the whole crowd who came, for many of them were cunning and deceitful. Whoever might have such moral character, let him take to heart John's words. He pressed the point: if they claimed to repent, let their repentance be proved by fruit that matched it.
John's insult borrows from a real animal. What people knew of that snake gives the words their sting.
The passages that speak of the viper tell us only one thing: its bite was poisonous. "The tongue of a viper will kill him." When one fastened on Paul's hand, people expected him to drop down dead. What species of serpent is meant is unknown. It is only otherwise referred to in the New Testament as a symbol of evil ones. John the Baptist called the crowd who came to be baptized "a brood of vipers." The Lord applies the same term to the scribes and Pharisees, showing how deadly their opposition was.
Why call people vipers when they had come out to the desert for baptism? Because coming for the blessing is not the same as turning from sin.
The people went out to be baptized in crowds. They said, "We want the kingdom;" and that is just what people are about now. They say, "Let us go to glory by all means; but we must have the pleasures of sin too." But God says, "I cannot have you on such terms. You must repent." No one therefore could have the blessing unless there was a change of mind. John preached the baptism of repentance. "Repent of your sins, and be baptized." But did they repent? No, they wanted the kingdom as they were. John therefore called them "a brood of vipers."
The crowd had things to fall back on: religion and family line. John's question exposes what those are worth.
He maintains that the day of ceremonialism, or of birthrights, was completely past. The Pharisee might rest on his religion; the Sadducee on the fact that he was a child of Abraham. The desire to escape wrath and to have part in the kingdom might be no more than nature. Humbled souls suit the kingdom. Descent from the fathers, the law, the promises even, may be turned into a right against God, who will not allow it.
What is the wrath? It is the judgment falling when the Lord arrives, and John leaves only two ways to meet it.
John the Baptist speaks to the Jews. He demands repentance, and righteousness as its fruit. He shows them that, if they were nearer to God outwardly as Jews, they must expect judgment all the sooner. If the Lord was coming, He must have what suited the Lord. The axe was even then lying at the root of the trees. If the trees had no good fruit, every one of them must be cut down and burnt. Repentance or wrath — which? The Lord would allow no plea of descent from Abraham, if their ways contradicted Abraham.
The command assumes there is somewhere to run to.
If ever there was a time when we should urge sinners to "flee from the wrath to come," it is now. If any say, Where? we reply, to the open arms of the Son of God; for He is still able to save all that come to God by Him. I earnestly beg you, unsaved ones, to receive Jesus as your Saviour at once. Do not delay.
- Everyone. In Luke the insult lands on the whole crowd, not just the leaders. No one listening is left out.
- Viper. The name points to a poisonous nature. The Lord later uses it of the scribes and Pharisees, whose opposition was deadly.
- Motive. Wanting the kingdom while keeping your sins is not repentance. The wish to escape wrath can be nature and nothing more.
- Choice. Repentance or wrath — there is no third road. Descent from Abraham buys no delay, for the axe already lies at the root.
- Refuge. The command to flee has an address: the open arms of the Son of God, who saves all who come to God through Him.
Produce therefore fruits worthy of repentance; and begin not to say in yourselves, We have Abraham for [our] father, for I say unto you that God is able of these stones to raise up children to Abraham.
The crowds trusted their family line from Abraham to keep them safe. John says it counts for nothing, which leaves two questions: what fruit proves repentance, and why God speaks of raising children from stones.
John asks for proof you can see. A change no one can see is a change no one can trust.
To show the reality of repentance there must be fruit. If I am under God's saving grace, I must also be under His teaching grace. If there is faith, there are works.
The same test applies to faith:
James, in his letter, insists that faith, if it is real and alive, must show itself in suitable works. Here John calls for just the same thing about repentance.
So what is repentance itself? One writer warns against a definition that stops at the mind.
Repentance is not just a change of mind. Do not let such a definition take hold of your minds… No doubt a mighty change of mind always goes with faith in Christ, and there is a complete revolution in the soul. But the change is not merely intellectual. It is moral. The soul is brought to sit in judgment on itself, and to pronounce God's judgment on its ways. It takes the place of a sinner, yes of a lost one, before God. Until this happens, there is no divine root.
Another writer defines it as self-judgment done before God Himself:
Scriptural repentance is nothing less than our identification with God in His judgment of our sins. It is our taking His part against ourselves. And so it is our bowing in the dust before Him in true self-judgment.
The words "do not begin to say" cut the sentence off before it starts. The claim itself is the problem. It swaps the question of guilt for a question of family line.
He pressed them: if they claimed to repent, let fruits that matched it prove their repentance. To boast that Abraham was their father was no repentance at all, but self-justification.
It was not a small correction. It removed the whole ground they stood on:
In this way he shattered at one blow all their settled ideas about the spiritual advantages of birth and parentage. They had grown so used to taking pride in them.
The saying about the stones is not a threat only. It states that God is not cornered by anyone's family tree.
To boast in the privileges of their nation, or of their fathers, was worth nothing before God. He required what His very nature, His truth, demanded. What is more, He was sovereign. He was able to raise up children to Abraham out of those stones. This is what His sovereign grace has done for the Gentiles, through Christ.
Another writer sees in the stones a picture of every believer's former state:
These stones are what we were — stones without life. But now we are children of Abraham, children of promise, counted as a seed… In Romans 4 Abraham is the father of all who believe, even though they are not circumcised.
John asks for fruit, but fruit needs a source. One writer sees John pointing further back:
John stirred their hearts about the fruit they ought to have borne. He also spoke of the need for a new root before good fruit could grow for God's pleasure.
When the crowds asked what to do, John gave no religious programme. He spoke to tax collectors and soldiers about money, honesty and contentment.
John called people to repentance. Yet sorrow for sins is poor and shallow when it only owns the past and judges the evil that has so far shown itself in our ways, however strong that judgment is. John lays down suitable conduct for those who claimed to repent.
- Root — no good fruit comes without a new root; John's demand exposes the need for God to work in the soul first.
- Repentance — not sorrow, not a change of opinion. It is siding with God's verdict on yourself and taking a sinner's place before Him.
- Fruit — the visible proof. If faith is real it shows in works, and the same test applies to repentance.
- Stones — God is free to raise children to Abraham from what has no life, which is how grace reached beyond the nation.
- Ancestry — claiming Abraham was self-justification dressed as repentance. John stopped the words before they were spoken.
And already also the axe is applied to the root of the trees; every tree therefore not producing good fruit is cut down and cast into [the] fire.
John the Baptist warns the crowds who came out to him that God's judgment is no longer far off. Two questions follow: what makes a tree good in God's eyes, and what hope remains for a tree that is not?
John is not describing something far off in time.
Each person's own state was the question. God was coming to deal with souls and with His vineyard. Sovereign grace still belonged to Him. He could make real children of Abraham out of stones. And the axe was laid to the root of the trees. This was not warning and forbearance — the time of divine dealing had come. Judgment was there at the door. If a tree did not bear good fruit, it was to be cut down and thrown into the fire.
An axe at the root is not pruning. It does not correct the tree; it removes it.
He showed that no place of religious privilege would help them, for God was about to judge the very roots of things. The axe was now about to cut. It would not lop off branches. It would strike at the root and bring the whole tree down. This is a very vivid picture. It came true not in outward judgment, such as will mark the Second Coming, but in the moral judgment reached at the cross. At the Second Coming, fire will consume the dead tree. The First Coming led to the cross, where the sentence of condemnation fell on Adam and his race. In other words, the tree was cut down.
John left no middle ground and no appeal to ancestry.
John the Baptist addresses himself to the Jews, demanding repentance, and righteousness as its fruit. He shows them that if they were nearer to God outwardly as Jews, they must expect judgment all the sooner. If the Lord was coming, He must have what suited the Lord. The axe was even then lying at the root of the trees. Repentance or wrath — which? The Lord would allow no plea of descent from Abraham if their ways contradicted Abraham; He must have righteousness.
The axe does more than fell the tree. It also opens up what the bark was hiding.
He said, moreover, "Even now the axe is laid to the root of the trees"; and if an axe is laid to the root of a tree, down it must go. In a way, then, John foretold the ruin of the nation. And if the axe were laid to the root of the tree, it would also show what was inside the tree — and it might be rotten to the core. If the axe of God's Word lays open the heart of man — as it does — it shows it to be rotten to the very core.
Self-improvement is no answer.
God would not recognise any amount of self-improvement on Israel's part. If the tree was bad, as its fruit showed, it would be cut down and thrown into the fire. A solemn warning of God's judgment against falsehood in any of us or in any nation, however appealing an impression that falsehood tries to make.
If every fruitless tree falls, what fruit will God accept?
Notice that John recognises only one good fruit as the way of escape: the sincere confession of sin, made through grace. Only those who make this confession escape the axe. There were really no good trees except those which confessed that they were bad.
John's call for fruit points to a deeper problem.
John searched their hearts about the fruit they ought to have borne. He also spoke of the need for a new root, because without it no good fruit could grow for God's pleasure. How then was this new root to be planted in their souls?
- Root. The axe strikes the root, not the branches. God deals with what a person or a nation is, not with tidying up its worst growth.
- Now. "Even now" is the sharpest phrase. This is not a season of warning and patience. It is the moment of divine dealing, with judgment at the door.
- Privilege fails. Descent from Abraham shelters no one whose life contradicts Abraham. Outward nearness to God only brings the reckoning sooner.
- Fruit. God judges the tree by what it produces. The first fruit He accepts is the honest confession of sin. The only good trees were the ones that admitted they were bad.
- A new root. Fruit that pleases God must grow from a root God Himself plants. Commentators differ over what the felling pictures: some point to the cross, others to the ruin still ahead. Either way, the fire is real.
And the crowds asked him saying, What should we do then?
John has just warned the crowds that the axe is already at the root of the trees. Their answer is not an argument but a question, and John's reply is not a religious program but plain instructions for ordinary people.
John refused to let anyone settle for talk.
John demanded deeds, not words, as the practical fruits of repentance, and this led to the people's question, recorded in verse 10. The tax collectors and the soldiers followed with similar questions. By his answers in each case John put his finger on the particular sins that marked the different classes. Yet, though the answers varied, covetousness provoked all the wrongs he dealt with. Of all the evil weeds that flourish in the human heart, covetousness is about the most deep-seated and the hardest to deal with. Like the dandelion, its roots go down a long way.
John was not speaking only to religious leaders here.
It is not a question now of reproving Pharisees and Sadducees coming to his baptism, as in Matthew. Here John solemnly warns the whole crowd, and Luke records his words to each class. … Man was far from God: he was a sinner. Without repentance and faith, what could his religious privileges be worth? … This also accounts for the details of the different classes that come before John the Baptist, and the practical dealing with the duties of each. That is an important thing, I believe, for us to keep in mind, for God thinks of souls. Wherever there is real moral discipline according to His mind, it deals with men as they are, taking them up in the circumstances of their everyday life. Tax collectors, soldiers, people — each hears their own proper word.
John tells nobody to leave their job or retreat from normal life. And none of it earns them anything from God.
To those who ask him what they are to do, he prescribes no strict self-denial. He calls for practical righteousness and love. Yet none of this gives them any claim on God. As the Lord says at a later time, no such claim is possible for a creature: "So you also, when you have done all that you were commanded, say, 'We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.'"
A person can feel real sorrow for sin and still change nothing.
John called to repentance. But sorrow for sins that only admits the past is poor and shallow, however strongly it condemns the evil that has shown itself in our ways so far. John lays down suitable conduct for those who professed to repent.
The three groups got different instructions. Another writer names the spirit that lies under all of them.
What we come out of in repentance, above all, is the spirit of selfishness, covetousness and grandeur, and disregard of others. In a word, it is everything contrary to "You shall love your neighbour as yourself." That is repentance in its practical working — the fruit in keeping with it. … Repentance, when genuine, produces above all a contrast to the evil that had been running unchecked. So selfishness is marked out as the general spirit to be repented of, and the sinner is left to his conscience, with no escape.
Luke opens this chapter with a picture of road work: valleys raised, rough ground made smooth. One writer sees that same work in these three answers.
Here we see a threefold effect in three classes of persons. First, the people: "Whoever has two tunics is to share with him who has none." So the mountain and the hill were made low and the valley lifted up. Second, the tax collectors: "Collect no more than you are authorized to do." Here we see how the crooked was made straight. Third, the soldiers: "Do not extort money from anyone by threats or by false accusation, and be content with your wages." So the rough places were made smooth. He would rouse every class to a sense of their responsibility before God. In this way he prepared them as a people for the coming of their Messiah.
John's answers deal with daily conduct. One writer contrasts them with a later question about being saved.
The people, the tax collectors and the soldiers all answered John's call to repentance. They asked, "What then shall we do?" How different, however, is the question about salvation and its answer (Acts 16:30-31).
- Warning first. The axe at the root, not a lecture on ethics, is what made the crowd ask what to do.
- Doing, not saying. John would accept only deeds as the fruit of repentance, and he named the sins of each group.
- Ordinary life. No strict self-denial — just share a coat, share food. None of it gives anyone a claim on God.
- One root. Covetousness and selfishness lie under all three answers. Both are the opposite of loving your neighbour.
- A different answer. The crowd's question prepared the road for the Lord. The question about salvation gets a very different answer.
And he answering says to them, He that has two body-coats, let him give to him that has none; and he that has food, let him do likewise.
John had just warned the crowds at the Jordan of coming judgment. So they asked the obvious question: what should we do? His reply points to a spare coat and a meal, and to the neighbour who has neither.
Each Gospel writer has his own focus, and that decides what he records.
Only Luke records the people asking John what they ought to do, for Luke singles out those things that have to do with moral character. John's Gospel rather dwells on the Baptist's testimony to the glory of the Lord Jesus. Here John answered the common people to the effect that they should willingly share what they had with those in need (v.11). This is not the gospel of grace, but it challenges Israelites as to whether they were willing to act by faith in the true God. Not that this would necessarily prove faith, for some would do such things from selfish motives. But it was a challenge all the same.
John does not leave repentance at the level of regret. He tells those who claim it what their days should now look like.
John called people to repentance. But it is poor, shallow sorrow for sin that only owns the past and judges the evil already showing in our ways, however strongly it judges it. John lays down suitable conduct for those who professed to repent. God was acting Himself for His own glory in the spirit of this same grace. Repentance prepares the way for grace. Grace produces it, of course, but repentance also leads into a path of grace.
John gives three answers to one question — one to the crowds, one to the tax collectors, one to the soldiers. Each answer lands where that group would feel it.
Only Luke gives us this. Everything in his Gospel speaks of its great moral purpose — what fitted the revelation of God come in grace in Man among men. So here we get the specific tests that John applied to the different classes who came before him. In principle they are solemn for us all. The question "What shall we do then?" is common and easy enough. A direction proves how sincere it is: one that strikes at the habitual self-indulgence, the particular form the will of the flesh takes in each — the people generally, tax collectors, and soldiers.
The answers differ from group to group. What lies underneath them does not.
John demanded deeds, not words, as the practical fruits of repentance. That led to the people's question in verse 10. By his answers in each case John put his finger on the particular sins that marked the different classes. Yet, though the answers varied, we can see that covetousness provoked all the wrongs he dealt with. Of all the evil weeds that grow in the human heart, covetousness is about the most deep-seated and the hardest to deal with. Like the dandelion, its roots go down to a great depth.
Two things John does not do are as telling as what he does.
To those who ask him what they are to do, he prescribes no severe self-denial. He calls instead for practical righteousness and love. Yet none of it gives anyone a claim on God. As the Lord says later, no creature can make such a claim: "when you have done all say, We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty."
John's mission was to prepare a road. Sharing a coat is one way the ground gets levelled.
So the mountain and the hill came down and the valley was lifted up... He would wake up every class to their responsibility before God. In this way he prepared them as a people for the coming of their Messiah. This was an appeal to the hearts of the people. On the one hand God offered them pardon, for they had suffered for their sins under His governing hand. On the other He was preparing them to receive Christ, who would bring them into the blessing of God.
Yet there is a limit to what John's preaching could do.
Clearly John's word is not a voice of mercy to the poor sinner. God is presented in the way of judgment, not of sovereign mercy. He does not say, "Come to me." John could not say it, because he was not Christ, and none but He could say, "Come to me." John came in righteousness.
- Question — "What shall we do?" is easy to ask. John answers with a coat and a meal, so the cost tests how sincere the question was.
- Proof — Sorrow that only looks back is shallow. John lays down conduct fit for people who claim to have repented.
- Root — Each group gets a different instruction. Yet covetousness lies under them all — the deepest-rooted weed in the human heart.
- Balance — John asks no harsh self-denial. Obedience here earns no claim on God: it is duty, not merit.
- Limit — This levelling prepared a people for their Messiah. But John could never say "Come to me." He came in righteousness and pointed to the One who could.
And tax-gatherers came also to be baptised, and they said to him, Teacher, what should we do?
Tax collectors worked for Rome, and they got rich by squeezing their own countrymen. Yet here they come to John's baptism with everyone else, asking what they should do.
Two things made these men hateful to Jews: politics and money.
These minor officials were known everywhere for their dishonest demands. The Jews hated them most of all. The Jews looked on themselves as a freeborn people, and believed they had this privilege straight from God Himself. They boasted that they were Abraham's offspring, and that no one had ever enslaved them. So the Roman tax gatherers were the visible proof of their slavery, and of how low their nation had sunk... Besides, they taxed people in an arbitrary and unjust way, and the law was on their side, so they could force payment.
The system itself invited the abuse.
Tax collectors took on the Roman taxes, with a fixed sum due for each district. They then passed smaller portions on to other men, or hired them to collect the money. The whole system was bad, and it was open to abuse by the collectors demanding more than they should.
John's preaching drew a crowd nobody would have gathered on purpose. Two groups stand out, and each shows a different way of wronging a neighbour.
And who do we see coming to the prophet's baptism? Tax collectors, men whose bad character was plain to all. Soldiers, who were used to oppressing the people. Corruption and violence find a meeting place at the baptism of repentance, where men own them and judge them.
They call John "Teacher." It is the ordinary word for a teacher, and the Gospels use it of the Lord Himself.
Didaskalos means "teacher." In the Gospels this is often translated "master" when it is applied to the Lord.
But asking the question is the cheap part. What proves a person means it is where the answer lands.
The question "What shall we do then?" is common and easy enough. What tests whether it is sincere is a direction that strikes at the habitual self-indulgence of each group. The will of the flesh works in each one in its own particular form — in the people at large, in the tax collectors, and in the soldiers.
John does not send them away with a general sermon. He names the exact thing their trade was famous for.
When the tax gatherers came to be baptized, an ordinary Jew would have dismissed them with contempt. John does not. He answers their question, "Teacher, what shall we do?" He said to them, "Collect no more than you are authorized to do." They were notorious for extortion, and their greed was proverbial. They robbed the very people whose taxes they were appointed to collect.
Different classes got different instructions, yet one appetite lies under all of them.
Though the answers varied, we can see that covetousness caused all the wrongs he dealt with. Of all the evil weeds that grow in the human heart, covetousness is about the most deep-rooted and the hardest to pull up. Like the dandelion, its roots go down a long way.
So why did men like this respond at all? One writer points to what happens when a person stops defending himself.
When we know what we are as sinners, we justify God, never ourselves; and then in His ways with us He justifies us... The first good fruit that is ever produced is the admission that we produce bad fruit.
Others heard the same preacher and turned away.
But the careful and the wise rejected God's counsel for themselves and set it aside. These were the religious, the learned and the great — "the Pharisees and lawyers." They rejected it because they refused even the preparatory work of John the Baptist. Having refused the lesser testimony, they never passed on into the greater things.
For these men, repentance meant honest dealing. One writer sees in that a crooked path being made straight.
Second, the tax collectors also came to be baptized and asked him what they should do. His answer was, "Collect no more than you are authorized to do." Here we see how the crooked was to be made straight... He would wake up every class to a sense of their responsibility before God. This prepared them as a people for the coming of their Messiah.
- Hated. Jews hated tax collectors as living proof that Rome ruled them, and the system let collectors demand more than they should.
- Welcomed. John does not turn them away. At his baptism, men own their corruption and violence and judge it.
- Tested. Anyone can ask "What shall we do?" The answer proves you mean it when it strikes the sin you profit from.
- Named. John points at the very habit that made them rich. Covetousness lies under every answer he gives, the deepest-rooted weed in the human heart.
- Straightened. Admitting we bear bad fruit is the first good fruit. Those who refused this lesser work of preparation never went on to the greater.
And he said to them, Take no more [money] than what is appointed to you.
John's preaching drew crowds. Tax collectors came for baptism too — men who made their living by squeezing money out of their own people. Their question was practical, and so was his answer. He did not tell them to leave the job. He told them to stop stealing inside it.
The tax system of the day invited abuse, and the men who worked it were the visible face of foreign rule over Israel. That is why people hated them so deeply. Yet these were the men who came to John.
These minor officials were known everywhere for cheating people out of money, and the Jews hated them most of all. The Jews looked on themselves as a free-born people, holding that privilege straight from God Himself... So the Roman tax gatherers were the visible proof of their slavery and of the degraded state of their nation... Besides, they were extremely arbitrary and unjust in the taxes they set. The law was on their side, so they could force people to pay. We may gather, from what John said to them, that they overcharged whenever they had the chance... And yet some of the earliest disciples of both John and our Lord came from their ranks. They had less hypocrisy than men who were thought better; they had no conventional morality, and no false religion to unlearn.
The sum John speaks of was not theirs to set. It came from the top of the system.
Tax collectors took on the taxes the Romans levied, with a set sum payable for each district... The whole system was bad, and collectors could abuse it by demanding more than they should.
A strict Jew would have waved such men away with contempt. John answers them instead, and names the sin of their trade.
The tax collectors also came to be baptized. An ordinary Jew would have dismissed them with contempt, but he answers their question, "Teacher, what should we do? And he said to them, Take no more money than what is appointed to you." Everyone knew they were extortioners; their greed was famous. They robbed the very people whose official tax collectors they were... It is clear that here we are warned against violence and corruption, the two great features of men left to themselves.
(Kelly gives his own rendering; the ESV reads, "Collect no more than you are authorized to do.")
Three groups ask John the same question. Each gets an answer aimed at the exact place where their own will was at work.
The question "What shall we do then?" is common and easy enough. The direction John gives proves whether it is sincere: it strikes at the habitual self-indulgence of each group — the people in general, the tax collectors, and the soldiers. That self-indulgence is the particular form the will of the flesh takes in each.
The instructions differ. One appetite drives every sin John names.
John demanded deeds, not words, as the practical fruits of repentance... By his answers in each case John put his finger on the particular sins that marked the different classes. Yet, though the answers varied, we can see that covetousness caused all the wrongs he dealt with. Of all the evil weeds that grow in the human heart, covetousness is about the deepest-rooted and the hardest to deal with. Like the dandelion, its roots go down a long way.
John speaks to a tax collector about tax collecting. That is how God deals with people.
God thinks of souls. Wherever there is real moral discipline according to His mind, it deals with people as they are. It takes them up in the circumstances of their everyday life. Tax collectors, soldiers, ordinary people — each one hears the word meant for them.
John's work was preparation. A dishonest collector who starts charging the fixed amount is one crooked thing made straight.
Here we see how the crooked were to be made straight... He wanted to wake every class up to their responsibility before God. That way he was preparing them as a people for the coming of their Messiah. This was an appeal to the hearts of the people... He was also getting them ready to receive Christ, who would bring them into the blessing of God.
- Question. "What shall we do?" is easy to ask. John tests the asker by aiming at the one habit his own will protects.
- Trade. Tax collectors worked a system open to abuse, and they overcharged whenever they could. The fixed sum they were allowed became the measure of their honesty.
- Root. People, tax collectors and soldiers each get a different answer. One appetite feeds them all: covetousness, the deepest weed in the human heart.
- Fruit. Repentance shows itself in ordinary work. God takes people up in the circumstances of their everyday life, not out of them.
- Preparation. A straightened conscience is a straightened road. John woke each class to its responsibility, so the nation would be ready to receive its Messiah.
And persons engaged in military service also asked him saying, And we, what should we do? And he said to them, Oppress no one, nor accuse falsely, and be satisfied with your pay.
Soldiers were the last group to bring John the question the crowds and tax collectors had already asked him. His answer was short: three commands aimed at the sins of their trade, and the last one aimed at the heart behind them.
John gave each group its own instruction, drawn from the work they did every day.
God thinks of souls. Wherever there is real moral discipline according to His mind, it deals with men as they are and meets them in the circumstances of their everyday life. Tax collectors, soldiers, people — they each hear their own proper word.
Each command John gives the soldiers meets a temptation built into their job.
He does not talk vaguely to people about sin in the abstract, but directly and pointedly about their own sins. To the tax collectors, whose special mark was extortion in collecting the taxes, he says, "Collect no more than you are authorized to do." To the soldiers he says, "Do not extort money from anyone by threats or by false accusation, and be content with your wages." The Roman soldier's three tendencies — violence, reckless accusation, and looting — he uncovers and rebukes in a dozen words.
An older wording of the verse reads, "Do violence to no man, neither accuse any falsely." That is where the three named faults come from. Another writer places these men in their daily role and points to the command most readers skip.
John warned the Jewish soldiers — the police of that time — not to intimidate or oppress anyone, which is a temptation for men in this line of work. He also warned them against false accusations, and told them to be content with their wages. That last instruction is possibly the least appreciated one. But reality of faith would welcome such instruction.
The last of the three commands reaches the furthest.
Clearly these words warn us against violence and corruption, the two great features of men left to themselves. Besides that, John presses them to be content with their pay. It is remarkable how much the spirit of contentment has to do not only with the happiness of a soul but with its holiness. There is scarcely another thing that so tends to disturb our relationship with God and man as discontent. It makes an individual ripe for any evil. It helps, on a great scale, to the revolutions of nations and other social ruptures. On a smaller scale, it upsets the balance of families and the right attitude of people as nothing else can.
John gave the crowds, the tax collectors and the soldiers different instructions. One problem lies under all three.
John demanded deeds, not words, as the practical fruits of repentance... By his answers in each case John put his finger on the particular sins that marked the different classes. Yet, though the answers varied, we can see that covetousness provoked all the wrongs that he dealt with. Of all the evil weeds that flourish in the human heart covetousness is about the most deep-seated and difficult to deal with: like the dandelion its roots go down to a great depth.
Asking what to do costs nothing.
The question "What shall we do then?" is common and easy enough. What proves whether it is sincere is a direction that strikes at the habitual self-indulgence — the particular form the will of the flesh takes in each one: the people in general, tax collectors, and soldiers.
So what does obedience like this earn?
To those who ask him what they are to do, he prescribes no strict life of self-denial, but practical righteousness and love. Even so, this gives them no claim upon God. As the Lord says later, no creature can make such a claim: "So you also, when you have done all that you were commanded, say, 'We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.'"
Another writer sets this question beside the question about salvation asked later in Acts.
The people, the tax collectors and the soldiers all answer John's call to repentance. They asked, "What shall we do?" But the question about salvation, and its answer, are very different (Acts 16:30-31).
- Personal. John gives each group its own word. He meets people inside the ordinary work of daily life.
- Precise. John names three faults of the soldier's trade — force, false accusation, and grabbing more — and rebukes them in a dozen words.
- Rooted. All three answers strike at one thing: covetousness, the deepest and most stubborn weed in the human heart.
- Content. Contentment with your pay guards holiness as well as happiness. Discontent unsettles families and helps drive the revolutions of nations.
- No claim. These are fruits of repentance, not payment for salvation. Even full obedience leaves us unworthy servants.
But as the people were in expectation, and all were reasoning in their hearts concerning John whether *he* might be the Christ,
Crowds came out to the Jordan to hear John preach. Then they began to ask whether John himself was the Christ, the promised Messiah. Their question shows how alive their hope was, and how little they understood it.
The mood at the Jordan did not rise from the crowd's own enthusiasm. One writer traces it back to God, and notes at the same time how much the people had already let slip from memory.
God Himself had awakened this mood of expectancy among the people. Yet they had clearly forgotten the birth of the Lord Jesus, which the shepherds had announced and the wise men from the east had confirmed. So they reasoned about whether John was the Messiah. John denied it without hesitation. He had already said that God had only sent him to prepare the way for the Lord.
Two things met at that moment. The Jews were counting a timetable given in Scripture. And here stood a man known for his righteousness.
John the Baptist's appearance in Israel struck them all the more, because they were waiting for the Messiah at that very time. Daniel's famous prophecy of the seventy weeks had told them so, and perhaps other Scriptures too. The whole East shared this expectation, no doubt through the Jews living scattered across it. So a man as marked out for righteousness as John raised the question: was he the Christ, or not?
Luke's word for what went on in their hearts turns up in other scenes too. Those scenes show what sort of activity it is. (The wording below follows an older English translation.)
These passages show how the word "thoughts" (dialogismoi) stands for inward thinking… The people "mused" in their hearts about whether John the Baptist was the Messiah or not (Luke 3:15). Jesus said to the disciples when He appeared among them, Why do thoughts arise in your hearts? (Luke 24:38)… The rich man whose crops were plentiful worked out his plans for future ease after he had "thought within himself" (Luke 12:17).
Nobody needed to guess. John belonged to a priestly family, and Scripture had already ruled such a man out. Thirty years had emptied his birth from public memory.
Ordinary people were wondering whether he was the Christ (Luke 3:15). But well-taught Jews, such as the priests and Levites, knew that the Christ would come from David's line and from the town of Bethlehem. So when they asked John whether he was the Christ… they showed plainly that his own tribe, and even his fellow priests of the house of Aaron, had forgotten the story of his birth thirty years before. No Levite, no priest of Aaron's line, could be the Messiah.
John did no miracle. Yet his preaching pulled so hard that people were ready to give him Israel's highest title. He refused it.
His work and witness came with no miraculous sign. Even so, they worked so strongly in people's hearts that many seemed ready to accept John himself as the Messiah (Luke 3:15). This was despite his flat refusal of any such claim, and his clear witness to Jesus: "He must increase, but I must decrease."
This danger meets anyone God uses. Attention drifts from the message to the messenger. The verse catches the moment that drift starts.
Even when a preacher preaches the truth of God… there is always a danger. The people can become more taken up with the man than with his message, and fix their attention on the servant instead of his Master. Every true servant of God will work and pray against that outcome… John the Baptist stands out here as a great example. He saw the crowd leaving him and going after the One he had testified to on the banks of the Jordan. His glad comment was, "This joy of mine is now complete. He must increase, but I must decrease."
- Awakened. John did not create the crowd's expectancy. God stirred it, using Daniel's prophecy of the seventy weeks and the Jews scattered across the East.
- Reasoning. Luke's word for what they did is the word for turning things over inside — the same activity as the rich man planning his barns. They had expectation, but not faith.
- Forgetting. Scripture had the answer already. The Messiah comes from David's line and from Bethlehem, so no priest of Aaron's family could be Him. They had forgotten the shepherds, the wise men, and John's own birth.
- Refusing. John's preaching moved people without a single miracle. When it made them ready to crown him, he refused: he must decrease.
- Transferring. Every servant faces the same danger: a crowd more taken with the man than the message. John shows the cure. He passed the attention on to Christ, and called that his joy.
John answered all, saying, *I* indeed baptise you with water, but the mightier than I is coming, the thong of whose sandals I am not fit to unloose; *he* shall baptise you with [the] Holy Spirit and fire;
The crowds at the Jordan had begun to wonder whether John himself was the promised Messiah. His answer turns every eye off himself and onto the One coming after him, and sets two baptisms side by side: his own with water, and Another's with the Holy Spirit and with fire.
The people were not guessing. Prophecy had set them watching, and John's reputation made him the obvious candidate.
John the Baptist's appearance in Israel at that moment struck the people all the more, because Daniel's famous prophecy of the seventy weeks, and perhaps other scriptures too, had them waiting for the Messiah at that very time… So a man as marked out for righteousness as John the Baptist raised the question whether he was the Christ or not. But his answer was always clear. He pointed to the fact that he himself baptized with water.
Untying a sandal was a real household task, and John names whose task it was.
He was the Forerunner of the Messiah, His Messenger, as Malachi calls him. He appeared in Judaea to announce the One all the prophets had spoken of. John says he was not worthy to stoop down and untie the strap of His sandal. This, we know, was the work of the lowest slave. Such was the reverence the Baptist paid to the Lord Jesus. Whatever grace is shown to us, we can never be too reverent.
John measures that greatness by what the Coming One would do, and by who He must be to do it.
Only a divine Person could baptize with the Holy Spirit. So John spoke not only of the might of Jesus, but of His deity. As he gave this bright testimony, the Baptist could not know all that lay ahead of Jesus before He would baptize men with His Spirit. The Lord would not do this on earth. He would do it from His place of exaltation at the Father's right hand, after He had finished the great work of redemption on the cross.
John speaks of the Messiah's work as a single whole. Later events pulled the two halves apart in time.
John the Baptist presented the work of Messiah as a whole. The cross split the two baptisms apart. One followed His first coming, when He went up on high and baptized in the power of the Spirit. The other waits for His second coming, and the next verse in both Gospels describes it… So in Acts we hear nothing of baptism in fire. That is to be when the Lord comes.
The other Gospel accounts confirm the split by what they leave out.
The Coming One was so great that He would baptize men with the Holy Spirit and with fire: the former for blessing, and the latter for judgment, as the next verse makes abundantly plain. Here again we may notice that the two Advents are not as yet quite plainly distinguished. There was a baptism of the Spirit, recorded in Acts 2, as the result of the First Advent, but the baptism with fire, according to verse 17, awaits the Second Advent.
John was preaching to a mixed crowd, and his sentence covers both kinds of hearer.
He baptized with water, but the Christ would baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire. That is, He would give the fullest blessing, and carry out judgment as well — for fire here stands for judgment… John was speaking to a mixed crowd, so he told them of both, though God's saints share only in the one, and those who will not repent only in the other. To baptize with the Holy Spirit is to give the fullest blessing that saints can enter into on earth. There is nothing beyond the gift of the Holy Spirit, and becoming members of the Body of Christ by the baptism of the Spirit (1 Corinthians 12:13).
The fire belongs to a day that has not yet come.
Mark 1:8 and John 1:33, in their record of this prophecy, leave out the words "and with fire." Those words look forward to the day of the Lord's judgment, when He will come to clear His threshing floor and burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire.
- Water — John's own baptism went only so far. He pointed past it to One whose sandal he was not fit to untie — the work of the lowest slave.
- Mightier — only a divine Person could baptize with the Holy Spirit. Jesus would do it from His place of honour at the Father's right hand, after the cross.
- Spirit — that half of the promise has come. It followed His first coming, after He went up on high, and gives believers the fullest blessing on earth.
- Fire — the other half waits. Mark and John leave the words out, and Acts never mentions fire. It belongs to the Lord's return, when He burns the chaff.
- Two roads — John said both to one mixed crowd. The blessing is for those who repent; the judgment is for those who will not.