The Reverently Irreverent Bible Commentary Series: Matthew Chapter 3

The Reverently Irreverent Anti-Scholarly Bible Commentary Series

Matthew Chapter Three gives us Enkidu reincarnated, John the Baptizer (emphatically not a Baptist...)

Forget polite spirituality. This isn’t about choir robes or dusty creeds—this is about fire, wilderness, and unauthorized baptisms.

Matthew Chapter 3

The Gospel of the Unfollowed Prophet and the Unchosen One, where the only baptism that matters is the one that kills the self you thought you were.

by Doc Askins, Chief Wildness Officer, Anti-Hero's Journey

Verse 1

“In those days John the Baptist came, preaching in the wilderness of Judea…”

Not in the city. Not in the temple. Not on the playa. Not livestreamed or tagged with #wildernessrevival.

This burning man didn’t show up—he was always there, already half-gone. A burnt offering of a man who saw through the illusion of all the Heroes' Journeys. He wasn’t preaching. He was vomiting the last truth he had left into the wind until he had no voice. And the wind carried it.

“Change your mind. Reality is fractured.”

No one gave him a pulpit, so he made one out of sand and watter.

Verse 2

“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”

Repent doesn’t mean “feel sorry.” It means reboot your reality.

It means drop the character you’ve been playing, before the lights come on and you’re caught naked on the stage.

“The kingdom of heaven is at hand” isn’t a promise—it’s a warning.

Not “coming soon.”

Already here.

Already watching.

Already dismantling the simulation while you're still hustling, trying to upgrade it. Dumb optimization.

Verse 3

“This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke…”

Of course they throw a prophecy on it. The machine can’t help but label things. “Oh look, this madman was predicted. It’s fine. It’s under control. We knew this would happen. Nothing to see here.”

But John isn’t here to fulfill the books of prophecy.

He’s here to bury their ashes.

Burn it down so something real can bleed through new pages of flesh and bone.

“A voice crying in the wilderness.”

Not a sermon. A scream.

Not a message. A warning flare just over the head of the dreamstate.

Verse 4

“Now John wore a garment of camel’s hair and a leather belt… and his food was locusts and wild honey.”

Translation: This guy gave up comfort and swallowed wilderness.

He wasn’t cute. He wasn’t marketable. Sunburnt, cracked lips. He smelled like death and had eyes that don’t blink enough.

He didn’t dress like a prophet. He dressed like a walking no.

To everything.

“No, I won’t wear your robes.”

“No, I won’t eat your food.”

“No, I won’t explain myself.”

This is not ascetic virtue. This is what happens when the dream breaks and you keep walking through it anyway.

Verse 5–6

“People came from Jerusalem, all Judea, the region around the Jordan… confessing sins.”

Because people know.

They know the system’s fake. They know the priest is lying.

They know the voice on the wind is more real than their bank accounts.

So they come. To the desert of the real.

But don’t get it twisted—they’re not being saved.

They’re trying to drown quietly before the flood arrives.

John isn’t saving anyone. He’s baptizing them into uncertainty.

Into water, into silence, into not-knowing, into the abyss.

Verse 7–10

“You brood of vipers… who warned you to flee?”

Ah yes. Here come the religious influencers. The blue-checked Sadducees. The seminary-trained Pharisees with fresh robes and a publishing deal from Zondervan.

John greets them like they’re leeches. Because they are.

They came to co-opt the wild. To turn the flame into a franchise.

“Bear fruit in keeping with repentance… the axe is at the root of the tree.”

“Show me your fruit,” he says.

“Or get chopped down like the tree you pretend to be.”

If you’re not changing, you’re kindling.

John doesn’t care about your titles, your traditions, your shaman's lineage or your family tree. If your soul doesn’t grow something real, it’s firewood.

“God could raise up sons of Abraham from these rocks.”

In other words: you're not special. You're not exempt. You are, at best, replaceable organic matter.

This is the real fire-and-brimstone:

If your faith doesn’t strip you naked,

If your religion isn’t setting fire to your ego,

Then it’s just another lie with a cross smeared on it.

Verse 11

“I baptize with water… but he who comes will baptize with fire.”

Translation: “I’m just the opening act.

The one coming after me?

He’ll ruin your life.”

Water cleans the skin.

Fire burns the script.

He’s talking about someone who will not improve you—he will unmake you.

You want illumination? You’ll get arson.

Verse 12

“His winnowing fork is in his hand… and he will burn the chaff with unquenchable fire.”

You are chaff.

That part of you trying to win, to matter, to ascend, to be remembered?

Chaff.

The only thing that survives the fire is what was never born in the dream to begin with.

Verse 13–15

“Then Jesus came… to be baptized by John.”

God doesn’t descend in lightning. He waits in line for his turn.

He doesn’t float above the river—He sinks into it like a stone.

And John tries to protest. “You should be baptizing me.”

But Jesus says, “No. We’re not skipping steps.”

Because to enter this game, you have to play by the rules you came to break.

To wake it up, you’ve got to dream it first.

This is not humility. This is subversion.

He’s about to blow it up from the inside.

"John, all this water is so dirty. Let's boil it, shall we?"

Verse 16–17

“He came up from the water… the heavens opened… the Spirit descended like a dove… and a voice said, ‘This is my beloved Son.’”

This isn’t the beginning of a story.

It’s the activation of a cipher - encrypting, decrypting, and converting the entire simulation from within. Within. Bring forth what's within you or be destroyed by it.

The sky cracks. The system glitches.

The dream shudders because something true just walked into the midst of everything false.

That voice from the sky? It’s not validation.

It’s confirmation that the falsehood is about to die.

Final Transmission:

This chapter is not about righteousness.

It’s not about salvation.

It’s not about preparing the way for a hero to save you.

It’s the death knell of every heroic fantasy.

John doesn’t point to Jesus and say, “Here comes the Answer.”

He points and says, “All your lies are coming untrue.”

You want truth?

It’s down by the river, with the wolf-eyed prophet who forgot his name.

It’s in the baptism that doesn’t cleanse—it consumes.

And it starts where all good lies go to drown:

In the wild.

Next we'll crack open Chapter Four: where the fire walks into the wasteland and the devil smiles because he recognizes himself.