Scripture References: John 1:1-18

God Became Human – Continued

Jesus’ flesh was our kind of flesh. He got tired, needed rest, sleep, and food. You see Him sitting on the curbing of a well and asking for water. He was tired and thirsty. You find Him sound asleep during a storm at sea when the boat was about to capsize, His head resting on a seaman’s pillow. He had had a hard day and needed rest.

Jesus had our frail and fragile form. Because He was frail, He felt the stresses, strains, and temptations we undergo. Because He was fragile He could be broken as He was in death. There was no beauty or comeliness in Him in His death. He was too broken for that.

When God took upon Himself our human flesh at Christmas, He came down to us. He made Himself little the way we are little. While knowing the weakness of analogies, we may say that He was like a brilliant astronomer who on Christmas morning got down on the floor with his three-year-old boy and played with him. He played with toys and talked about things like Santa Claus, Christmas trees, and the things that appeal to the imagination and fancy of a child’s mind. In some real sense, he became a child again, thinking the thoughts and speaking the language of a child. Yet, as an astronomer he used language, concepts, and mathematical formulas which are difficult for highly trained lay minds to understand. On Christmas Eve night he had talked with a friend about interstellar space, how it takes four and one-half years for light to reach the earth from the nearest star, thirty thousand years for light to reach us from the center of the Milky Way. He had talked about how the most distant star is beyond the reach of our most powerful telescope. The universe is so vast, he said, that it seems to shade off into infinity. We cannot find its boundaries. But on Christmas morning he was a father, not an astronomer. He talked about simple things in a simple way to a little child. In a sense, he became a child again.

Does the father lose stature when he is on the floor with his little boy? No. Maybe he is never so tall. He is in relationship with another human being, his son, and that is more wonderful than the relationships he has with the heavens as an astronomer. The heavens cannot think, respond, or love, but the boy can. There is more mystery in the face of his child than there is in the heavens, more wonder in his eyes than in the light of a star.

Maybe simplicity is the key to greatness. The test of a great man is not how comfortable he is with his peers but how comfortable he is with simple people. The test of a great writer is not how intricate and involved his style but how simple, vivid, and concrete it is. The test of the artist is not how elusive the beauty of his work but how obvious. The test of God is not how great He is but how little He is willing to make Himself in order to save us.

God is more a Father than a cosmic engineer. He loves us and is willing to do whatever is necessary to save us, win our love, and give us life. The test of His greatness is not His power and majesty but His love that enables Him to stoop to our deep need. Never is the God of our universe so great as when He comes to us in something so weak and helpless as a baby.

To Be Continued

Unless otherwise noted, Scripture taken from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®, ESV © 2016 by Crossway Bibles.
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