Chaff, as you know, is the stuff that comes along with a grain of wheat, a sort of outer skin. Think of it like that piece of husk that sometimes shows up in your bowl of oatmeal.

Humans cannot digest chaff; so besides its annoying presence in a loaf of bread or a bowl of oatmeal, it is nutritionally worthless. It’s no wonder that John uses this metaphor to describe the in-breaking of God’s incarnate One. We don’t remove the chaff because it tastes bad—many people find beets to taste bad, but they’re packed with nutrients. We remove the chaff because it is worthless; it takes up valuable space needed by those whom Jesus will summon to follow him into the fires of baptism. If the chaff follows, it will be useless. In fact, it will simply burn up.

Disciples are made of stronger stuff, able to withstand the temptation to put self ahead of neighbor, profit ahead of justice, or fear before faith. We don’t blow away with the winds of change, but hold steadfast to the call to follow.

We learn something of this unique following when Jesus joins John down by the river. Jesus is dunked beneath the water and rises to hear the eternal words, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Over the next forty days he will face a trio of well-documented temptations. And then he will get on with gathering the wheat, making disciples.

No chaff here; it’s blowing in the wind. There is only wheat, solid and nutritious, ready to be made into the bread of life.