Show Don't Tell: Luke 3:19-20

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the barren landscape of Judea, John the Baptist stood resolute by the muddy banks of the Jordan River. Clad in rough camel’s hair, his eyes burned with the fire of conviction. The air was thick with the scent of earth and water, yet it was the weight of truth that hung heavily in the atmosphere that day.

When Herod Antipas, the tetrarch, approached—his jeweled garments glinting in the fading light—John’s voice rang out like thunder. “It is not lawful for you to have your brother's wife!” he proclaimed, his words slicing through the murmur of the crowd like a knife. The onlookers, drawn to the spectacle of power meeting the prophet, held their breath, caught between the gravity of John’s truth and the oppressive presence of the ruler.

But truth, as it often does, comes at a steep price. Herod, stung by the rebuke, felt the sting of his own conscience. He was a man of power, yet here stood a man of God unyielding in his conviction. And so, in a moment of rage and fear, he ordered John to be thrown into the darkness of a prison cell—an echo of the sound of iron bars closing that would reverberate through the years.

Imagine John, once so vibrant, now confined in a dank cell, the chill of stone walls pressing in on him as he wrestled with despair. The same voice that called people to repentance now lay silenced, trapped within the confines of a cold, unforgiving reality. John became a haunting reminder that speaking truth to power often comes with a price—one that reverberates through the ages. A price that, ironically, only added to Herod's list of sins, revealing the true nature of power: it fears truth, and it punishes those who dare to speak it.