"He must increase, I must decrease."
-The Voice
I didn't say this. I would never say this. At least, unprovoked, I would never say this.
No, the guy who said this was insane. He ate bugs and didn't shower. And he gave himself a nickname: the Voice. And not one of those soft, sensual, lovely voices that whispers truths into your ears and causes you to shiver with warmth. This voice was crying out, crying out so obnoxiously that it even did so in the womb.
But the most remarkable part of his self-proclaimed nickname is not that he called himself the voice, but that he called himself the voice. He wasn't just a voice crying out in the wilderness, he was it.
The big kahuna.
The main man.
In a Gospel that claims God to be the Word, being the voice is a pretty fricken huge deal.
Just think of the intimacy. The voice is what gives life to the word, that sets it on its way to people.
But there's a humility to it. The voice isn't the word; it is simply the medium by which it travels. John was in no way the center of it all. He was simply a vehicle; a medium. By him, the Word first floated across the plain and into people's eardrums.
But can you think of a more intimate way to be with the Word?
The answer is no.
Which is why we have to be the voice too.
Duh.
This is unbelievably easy to screw up.
You start off so well, being the voice. You do it better and better, decreasing and decreasing.
But one day you say to yourself, gosh isn't that voice lovely?
You just...forget...forget that you're not the word but the voice.
And it's all downhill from there.
Forgetfulness means exile, the Oldies remind us.
The most annoying thing about growing up is discovering all the new ways to forget.
And forget.
And forget.
Just be the voice--THE voice.
It's so simple, just don't forget it.
Just increase the decrease.
Just be free,
silly novice.
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