One of the fondest memories of my childhood was the time our Dad took my brother Steve and me to see the Harlem Globetrotters play basketball. There were two experiences that marked the completion of a child’s idyllic dreams back then. One was a trip to the circus with its three dazzling rings of entertainment, clowns, exotic animals, and fabulous spectacle. The other was a magical mixture of sports thrill and comedy when the Clown Princes of Basketball took the court and made us ooh and aah and laugh ourselves silly at their wizardry and antics. We kids could not recite the names of most of the U.S. presidents. But we could tell you all you wanted to know about Curly Neal and Meadowlark Lemon. Having experienced these events, there was nothing left for two tow-headed rural boys to do except go ahead and grow up happily.

     They were founded in 1926, the Globetrotters, and they are still going strong. Curly Neal is now 67 years old. He is still with the team. Now he is their advance publicity man. When I read a Sports Illustrated article last week about the team, I thought, I want to be known as God’s publicity advance man. I like that. I think I’ll quit replying, “I’m a minister,” when asked what I do. I’ll just say, “I’m an advance publicity man for God.”

     The greatest advance publicity man for God was John the Baptist, a cousin of Jesus. He sort of invented the role. He learned that he needed to stir up stuff to gain public awareness of his message. He dressed in weird clothing, crude cloth and animal skins. He ate strange food—wild honey and locusts. I don’t plan to emulate him in all of this. Oh, I could enjoy the honey, but I draw the line at eating bugs. Most Baptists are like me in this. Most images of John portray him as a wild and hairy guy, looking…well, sort of Baptisty. (Sorry about that bit of lame Methodist humor.) I think I could be a wild kind of guy—however, being hairy is beyond my ability.

     Of course, an advance publicity man for God needs a strategy for doing his work. In the first place, you’ve got to spread the word that God is coming. John the Baptist was good at this. He hung out down around the Jordan River, a pleasant place where common folk gathered in great numbers. He would have cut a striking figure. It would not have been easy to ignore him. The popular image is of a man who was either insane or perhaps a prophet of God. John was like a walking billboard.

     Then you’ve got to offer some teasers to let people know what they can expect when the anticipated one appears. John was apparently a great preacher. He told listeners not to focus on him. “I’m not the one you are looking for,” he said. “I’m not worthy even to tie the shoe strings of the one I telling you about.” Now, this is important in the work of a publicity advance man. You’ve got to remember that your work is not about you. You’ve got to be like the donkey upon which Jesus rode into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. Amid the acclaim of the crowds, the donkey had to keep reminding himself that the parade was not about him!

     Finally, a good advance publicity man needs to tell a little something about what this one who is coming is going to be saying. He is going to be announcing a new kind of Kingdom and challenging everyone to welcome it and become a part of it. And John had a closer. He would say, get on board, this train is leaving the station. Get your ticket. Get your hand stamped. Come on down to the river, repent, get baptized and get with the program!

     Nobody can ever accuse John of being anything but sincere in his advance publicity work as an agent of Jesus. In fact, he stuck his neck out so far, he got his head lopped off! I think he would say to you or me, “Don’t let my sad end deter you. Go ahead and sign up! Be an advance publicity person for God. Here in the Easter season is a perfect time to enlist.

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