Hull people are generally suspicious of anyone who arrives announcing their own importance.

If somebody walks into a room and says, "Do you know who I am?", the usual response is not admiration - but ridicule.

There is, of course, one famous Hull exception. A certain Ronnie Pickering managed to ask that precise question in a roadside incident and, largely because of it, became an unlikely social media legend.

For the rest of us, however, the response is more likely to be: "No. Should we?" There is something healthy about that.

Perhaps that is why I think St John the Baptist would have fitted into Hull rather well.

The Church celebrates his birth on 24th June. That's unusual. Most saints are remembered on the day of their death. Yet John is so important in God's plan that we celebrate the day he arrived in the world. And what makes him remarkable? Not miracles. Not wealth. Not power. Not popularity.

In fact, if John were applying for a modern marketing job, his CV would be a disaster. Address: The Desert. Clothing: Camel hair. Diet: Locusts and wild honey. Career objective: Convince everyone to follow somebody else.

Yet crowds flocked to hear him. When people asked if he was the Messiah, he simply replied:

"I am not the Christ."(John 1:20)

Imagine being given the opportunity of a lifetime and immediately passing it to someone else. That is exactly what John did. Again and again, he pointed away from himself and towards Jesus.

"I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord." (John 1:23)

John's message was simple. "Prepare the way of the Lord."

That sounds straightforward enough until we realise he wasn't talking about roads.

He was talking about us. About the habits we know are wrong but keep anyway. About the grudges we carry because we've carried them for so long that they feel like old friends. About the prayer life we'll get round to tomorrow. About the apology we should have made months ago.

John was not preparing people for a festival, a ceremony or a special occasion. He was preparing people to meet Christ.

And that challenge has not become any easier two thousand years later. We have become so used to notifications that some people become anxious when their phone remains silent for ten minutes at a time.

Yet God generally works the other way round. He rarely shouts. He usually whispers. In all the noise, the voice of God can easily become the one voice we stop listening to.

John's job was to wake people up - not by shouting about himself, but by pointing towards Christ.

And that may be the greatest lesson of all. Today we are encouraged to build our image, grow our profile and increase our influence. John says something very different.

"He must increase; I must decrease." (John 3:30)

That sounds strange to modern ears - but John was not saying that we are worthless. He was saying that life works best when God is at the centre - rather than ourselves.

Most of the arguments, worries and disappointments that wear us down begin when we become the centre of our own universe.

How do I look? What do people think of me? Why wasn't I thanked? Why wasn't I noticed?

John invites us to ask better questions.

How can I help? Who needs encouragement? What is God asking of me today?

There is a freedom in that. A freedom that many people never discover.

Jesus said of John:

"Among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist." (Matthew 11:11)

What a remarkable tribute. And yet John's greatness came not from drawing attention to himself, but from directing attention to Christ. Perhaps that is why we still remember him.

The world remembers celebrities for a few years. Politicians for a few decades.

John the Baptist has been remembered for more than two thousand years. In an age where everyone seems to be asking, "Look at me," John quietly points in another direction and says:

"Look at Him."

Amen