As we enter this third week of Advent, we encounter John the Baptist once more, pleading to his followers, wondering if Jesus is the one that the world has been waiting for. John is speaking behind prison bars as he hears how Jesus is performing works in the world. Denounced by the Roman emperor, he can only listen to what Christ is doing, but never bear witness. Our readings today reflect this reality. We hear glimpses of what the future holds - one that frees the oppressed, a future where peoples’ eyes and hearts are opened, and eternal life is given. It is a beautiful future, promised by the Creator. But we are also given a message of patience and a humbling reality.

Jesus reminds the crowd that John was a prophet, and subverts expectations of who and what a prophet should be. The prophet was not to be found in the palaces, adorned in glorious garments in these bastions of power - no, the prophet was the one standing outside, proclaiming to the bastions. John spent his vocation and life preparing people for what was to come after him - a future that included the arrival of someone much greater than he is, who will transform the very way that we live our lives, the ways that we are to treat those around us; he will come to transform our hearts and our world.

That said, even in the midst of such powerful prophecies, I wonder how John felt about proclaiming and envisioning a future that he would not see. When he heard that Christ was performing profound works of love, justice, and mercy -- his questioning was not one of doubt, but of recognition. John knew that this hope-filled future was indeed arriving, and he knew that his job was coming to a close.

John’s role in this story makes me think about what it means to see the horizons of possibility and change coming, while dealing with the reality that I may not see what lies beyond it. It is a sobering position, to say the least. Throughout my time at Yale Divinity School, I have seen how the community has changed and evolved, struggled and succeeded, and as I arrive at the end of my program, I have seen seeds be planted into this place. These are seeds that can birth potential beauty and joy, seeds that reflect the diversity of God’s creation and can bring justice to the brokenness of our world. I can envision a future where the silenced and marginalized voices of the world can be seen, can speak, and can thrive. It is indeed a glorious one. However, I know that I may not see that future soon -- it may not even be in my own lifetime. But that doesn’t mean we should stop chasing it nor is it a sign that it will not come. No, I have seen glimpses of this future. These glimpses are found in the activists who stand at the picket lines and proclaim justice and righteousness outside the bastions of power while families are being separated, black and brown bodies are murdered, indigenous and queer voices are silenced, and peoples across the world continue to fight for their freedoms. John’s life reminds us that the promised future is indeed to come. Christ is coming. A new and promised future will arrive. But until then, until that happens, we must keep pursuing this future. Even if we do not get the chance to see it. That is what it means to be a prophet. This Advent, may we be reminded of the words linked to Oscar Romero as we prepare for the hope-filled future promised to us:  “We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own.” May we continue to work towards the future of liberation for all of God’s people.