First there was Mary—sweet and innocent. A woman of prayer who willingly accepted the role God called for her to play.

Then there was Joseph—holy and compassionate Joseph. Here was a man who said yes to rearing God’s child as his very own.

These have been the focus of our time together during the first two weeks of Advent. They have provided the backdrop for the coming of the Messiah. They have provided us with serene images of that time so long ago. But then there is today—and today our attention turns to John the Baptist. You know John, that desert-dwelling, finger-pointing, hypocrite-damning prophet. He seems as out of place in our contemplation of Jesus’ birth as Saddam Hussein at a VFW fund-raiser. What does he have to do with anything? Where is he amid the holy family, the shepherds and the magi that we so adore?

John is an odd addition to the season of Advent, but he has an important role to play. In the Annunciation to Mary and in the angel’s appearance to Joseph, we were told of the coming Christ. We were told that he was not merely a king in the line of David, but also the very presence of God, Emmanuel, "God with us."

In a culture in which HEB replaces Halloween candy with Christmas stockings, in which Christmas lights often go up before Thanksgiving, in which every day is seen as one less day to buy gifts for under the Christmas tree, John reminds us that more serious preparations need to take place. He reminds us that we are to prepare for the coming Lord by taking inventory of our lives, by getting our hearts, minds and lives ready to greet Jesus. To do so, means measuring our lives by at least the standard John lifted before the people.

"What is that standard?"

First, are we in the habit of helping people in need?

When the crowds heard John the Baptist declare that God demanded more of them than a genetic link to Abraham, they were shocked. As the people of Israel, they knew themselves to have a special connection with God, a covenant that tied them to God forever. Abraham’s heirs—the people of Israel—would always be blessed, or so they thought. But John said otherwise. He told them that if they did not bear fruit—if they did not live like the people of God were meant to live—then God would cut them down just like a tree that produces no fruit.

And so they asked, "What then should we do?" And John’s answer was that they were to help those in need. If you have two coats, give one to the person who does not have any. If you have more than enough food, then give to those who don’t. Getting ready for the messiah meant reaching out to help those in need.

And it still does.

I ran across an interesting statistic this week. Time magazine reported that people give an average of 2.5 percent of their income to charity. That is not too surprising. That figure has been around a while. What was interesting was the comparison Time made. Do you know what percentage of income people gave during the Great Depression, that time when most everyone was broke? 2.9 percent. People during those horrible economic times gave a greater portion of their income to those in need than people do today—a day when even amid an economic slowdown we remain the most affluent people in the world.

But helping people in need is more than a matter of writing checks to charity or dropping coins in a Salvation Army kettle. The assistance John calls for—and Jesus would later affirm—is personal. It is people reaching out to other people.

Not long ago a woman came to the church office looking for financial help. She was tearful as she told me that her electricity would soon be shut off, that none of the agencies she had contacted could help, that she didn’t know what she was going to do. We were not able to take care of the whole bill, but because of your gifts to the church we were able to help with a small part of it.

But there was something more important than money. A few days later I received a thank you noted from her. She expressed gratitude for the money and for the tips on where else she might go, but what she appreciated more than anything else was the way the volunteers and church staff welcomed here and embraced her with God’s love. Those that she encountered here reached out in very personal ways, and it made a difference.

What we do for the least of those around us, Jesus said, is what we do for him. And that means that preparing our lives for him means assisting others by giving of ourselves and our resources.

But serving others is only one dimension of the fruitful life.

Some of those who had gathered at the Jordan River to hear John the Baptist were tax collectors. They were probably Jews who worked for the Roman government. Of course, nobody liked them. Their fellow Jews saw them as traitors. They also knew that such men made their living by squeezing extra money out of the people. The law might only call for a few cents, but the tax collector would demand more, and then keep the difference as profit.

John’s charge to them was simple—"Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you." In short, "Be honest!"

One would hardly think such an admonition would be necessary today. After all, we grew up on stories of how George Washington never told a lie and how Honest Abe Lincoln walked all the way back to town to return money the clerk had given him by mistake. Of course, we have heard "O what a wicked web we weave when at first we set out to deceive," and "Honesty is the best policy."

And yet

• A USA Today poll found that only 56 percent of Americans teach honesty to their children;
• A Louis Harris survey of high school students found that 65 percent said they would, if given the opportunity, cheat on an important exam;
• When a teacher in Piper, Kansas, flunked 20 percent of her students because they used the Internet to plagiarize their projects, the school board ordered her to soften the penalty, leading her to refuse and resign.
• In the last several years we have had a president disbarred for lying, distinguished historians accused of plagiarizing; corporate CEO indicted for cooking their books, a domestic goodness investigated for inside trading, and clergy humiliated, suspended and even fired for preaching the sermons of others.
• Author Os Guinness notes that in the post-modern world some have even attacked the idea that there is anything called "truth."

John’s call to honesty is a call that desperately needs to be heard and heeded. Are we honest with our spouses and children? Do we speak the truth to our employers, employees and colleagues? Do we deal honestly with our clients and customers? Are the tales we tell our friends and social acquaintances tall or true?

Getting ready for the coming of Christ means repenting of dishonesty and bearing the fruit of truth.

But there is still another fruit John calls us to bear. It is the fruit of equality.

Most of us cannot quite imagine the soldiers of John’s day. We think of professional soldiers, the men and women who show up in recruitment ads, well trained for combat yet also people who know how to interact with others. The soldiers who came to hear John were mercenaries. They were more like the security forces of some Third World countries or the enforcers in the Russian mob than soldiers. They had and used the freedom to threaten and arrest people. They used their position of power for personal gain, to extort money from those under their control.

When these soldiers asked John how they should respond to the coming of Christ, he tells them to stop extorting money and be content with their wages.

Scholar Joseph Fitzmyer suggests that what John is demanding is that the soldiers abandon their power and treat others with equality. He says that John is demanding that they interact with the lowly, the powerless, in the same way they interact with the mighty and powerful.

Is that the way we treat others?

The orthodontist’s office was large, with six chairs lined up in two rows. That morning they were all full as was the waiting room. At the front desk the receptionist—a young woman—began to question one youngster’s mother. Her payment was late—and it apparently wasn’t the first time. The mother began to explain or, from the receptionist’s apparent view, make excuses. As their conversation continued their voices rose, particularly that of the receptionist. The heads of those in the chairs began to turn, as did the heads of those in the waiting area. It was clear that the receptionist was growing more and more angry and the mother more and more embarrassed.

Finally the orthodontist excused himself, walked over to the counter, and said to the mother—but clearly for the benefit of the receptionist—"These things are best discussed in private. Please, won’t you come in?" With grace he ushered her into his office. Five or 10 minutes later they emerged. The mother was calm and smiling. The dentist his normal self. Whatever problem there had been, some resolution had been reached.

What made the difference? Unlike the receptionist, the orthodontist treated the woman with equality. He had gone to her not as one in power, demanding payment, but as one human being to another.

I think it fair to say that John would measure one’s readiness to welcome Christ by how one treats the waitress that messes up our order or the man who tends our yard or the janitor that cleans our office.

Do we treat them with equality? Do we respect them? Do we seek not superiority over them but equality with them? Such is the fruit that makes it possible for us to welcome a child conceived by an unwed mother, born in a stable, reared in a backwater town called Nazareth in Galilee.

There is a lot of preparing going on for Christmas. Folks are getting their homes decorated, their gifts wrapped, their refrigerators filled. Christmas is coming. The Christ child’s birth will soon be celebrated.