Sometimes, I have John the Baptist living in my head, which can make my brain a very uncomfortable place to be. The Gospel of Matthew describes John like this in Matthew 3:
4 Now John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey.
If you’re going to have someone residing in your brain, I encourage you to choose someone not clothed in camel’s hair, it’s quite itchy. I also suggest someone who doesn’t eat bugs, and someone who doesn’t yell. John yells a lot.
5 Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to (John)… 7 when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?… 10 Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.
I heard John the Baptist a lot as a child. For example, I remember when I stole some gum from a grocery store. When my mother found out, she told me she was disappointed in me. What I heard was John’s voice “You’re a disappointment.”
My father didn’t have to speak what I could hear on my own. I was the youngest of four children. My older brother was the athlete. It meant a lot for my father for me to play football like my brother. I wasn’t quick enough, fast enough, or strong enough. Instead, I was signed up for baseball where it was not the lack of speed, strength, or skill that got me in trouble; it was the lack of attention. Let’s see, what was I talking about… Oh, yes, I remember being in the outfield watching a bird flying over the field and the parents on the bleachers. I always wondered where and when a bird would poop and if they just let it fly when they felt like it or aimed it at cars and people. Then I would hear my name called out, “David!” When my name was yelled like that, it meant a ball was coming.
Since attention was a big problem for me in the outfield, the coach repositioned me to first base. Do you know why first base was a guarantee I would focus more on the game? Because in the outfield, the ball might be hit every so often in your general direction, but at first base, several times an inning, a ball was likely thrown at you, about head height. You had to pay attention to survive.
Late in a game, I was going up to bat when my coach said, “David, we can win this one. We really need you to get a hit and get on base.” I wanted to please my coach and do what he said, only instead of “We need you to get a hit,” I heard, “We need you to get hit.” So, I did. I leaned in my left shoulder and the ball hit me high on my back. “Take your base!” the umpire yelled. I took one for the team. I found getting hit was a lot easier to accomplish than getting a hit, after all, my back was larger than any bat. The only problem was, as I got older, the pitches came harder, faster, and were a lot more difficult to keep from hitting my head, so my on base percentage dropped significantly.
Though he never said it, I could tell my father was disappointed that I was not the athlete he wanted me to be. No father sits in the stands and yells, “Come on, Son! Get hit! That’s my boy!” With John the Baptist in my head, I heard not that my father was disappointed, I heard, “You’re a disappointment.”
At school, I found math was like a second language to me. If there were 100 questions, I would get 99 of them right. I was quite the math whiz. The problem was, even though I could get 99 out of 100 questions correct, 9 times out of 10, I would forget to put my name on my paper. The teacher would return our quizzes, paper by paper, and child by child, calling each by name. Then she would say, “This last one doesn’t have a name on it.” Everyone would look around the room. There was one child left without a paper, me. As she handed me my quiz, she would lean over to me as I was sliding deep in my seat, “I don’t know what kind of boy can do so well at math but not put his name on his paper.” I knew what kind of boy could. A disappointment. John the Baptist was at it again.
John the Baptist also attended church with me, whether remakes of John Edwards yelling at sinners in the hands of an angry God or John Calvin telling us how our basic nature was total depravity, they all just reinforced John the Baptizer in my head.
I really didn’t understand grace or the love of God until March 9th, 1995. That’s when our daughter Cayla was born. We named her, Cayla Joy Jones. Cayla means pure and so her name is Pure Joy. As I held my new born daughter in my arms, I loved her simply because she was. I loved her simply because of who I was, her parent, her father. Through a father’s eyes, John the Baptist disappeared, and as the heavens parted, I could hear the voice of God.
In contrast to the voice of John the Baptist is the voice of God in Matthew 3,
13 Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. 14 John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” 15 But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. 16 And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. 17 And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved,[d] with whom I am well pleased.”
This love is from God and rooted in God, not only evident in the voice at Jesus’ baptism but when in his ministry the voice comes. Again, this is Matthew chapter 3 with 25 chapters to go. What has Jesus done so far? Nothing. This is the beginning. Jesus has not healed anyone, not walked on water, not confronted wrong doers, not stood up for the poor, not feed 5,000 with 5 loaves and 2 fish or anything else, and certainly not died on the cross or risen again. He has done nothing. Yet, here, God says, “My child. Beloved. With whom I am well pleased.” Is God pleased because Jesus showed up? No. God is pleased because God is pleased. Jesus is Beloved because God is beloving. God loves because God loves. This is a different sort of love. It is not about meeting parent, teacher, coach, or the world’s expectation, disappointing or otherwise. It is not about setting yourself apart, proving that you are somebody, someone, something special, or even showing the world that you are alive. You are loved simply because God says so. Listen for God’s voice and turn away from all the others.
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I often find poets make the best preachers. They focus on each word and every line to provide in often-succinct fashion interpretation of life and scripture. Along with the images of creation in Genesis and Psalms, I hold this version of our beginning by Vassar Miller dear to my heart. 
where in the recesses of my mind, I have a vague memory from my childhood when I prayed in a family or other group gathering. Someone, perhaps a sibling, snickered at the words I chose in my prayer. My mother, the ever protector, responded quickly, “He wasn’t talking to you.”
Through the years as a pastor, I’ve counseled a lot of people about their children, especially their teenagers. Imagine you are Kevin Salwen. He picked up his fourteen year old daughter, Hannah, from a slumber party and was driving her home. At a red light, Hannah looked out their windows and saw a homeless man on the sidewalk holding up a sign asking for money to buy food. On the other side of the car, in the lane next to them, Hannah saw a black Mercedes. She looked from the Mercedes, back to the homeless man, and from the homeless man back again to the Mercedes. Then she said to her father, “If that guy didn’t have such a nice car, then that guy could have a nice meal.” It made sense to her. A less expensive car for one person could keep another off the street. 
When I was a youth, we learned a song that made memorizing 1 John 4:7 & 8 quite easy. The verse is,