We have seen his glory
Why does Jesus’ birth matter?
I’ll join the chorus of everyone else on the internet right now and say it: there’s just nothing quite like the Christmas season.
It’s a whirlwind of chaos and coziness. Emotions are stronger, days are shorter, and time moves faster—it can be difficult to find that “heavenly peace” in the midst of it all, at least without a great deal of intentional planning.
And in the midst of all this, there are still normal rhythms to uphold (though the mess on my kitchen island and piles of unfolded laundry throughout my house may suggest that I’ve given up on those things already1).
While reading in the book of John earlier this week, though, I was starkly reminded of the significance of the Christmas season—and it may not be for the reason you’re thinking.
For Christians, Christmas celebrates Jesus’ birth. Nativity scenes depict the strange evening: a baby born in a barn and placed in a feed trough since there was no bassinet to be found. A night sky impacted temporarily by choirs of angels, and then permanently by a new heavenly body marking the spot. A shepherd who happens to be in the right place at the right time.
It’s a stunning image that juxtaposes Jesus’ “human-ness” and “God-ness” with striking brevity. Powerful enough that entire battalions of angels would herald his arrival, yet arriving in the most vulnerable, humble manner possible.
The book of John actually skips past the story of Jesus’ birth, instead beginning by introducing readers to John the Baptist, a prophet of sorts who identified Jesus as the Christ (or “anointed one”). “He was not the light, but came to bear witness about the light.” (John 1:8)
But, though the manger scene doesn’t appear in John, the core of the Christmas story is present:
“The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God. And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.”
John 1:9-14
At times, I tend to gloss over familiar passages of scripture, assuming that I’ve gleaned all I can out of their meaning simply because I’ve heard them so often. But, really take a moment to consider the full implications of these words.
First, the bolded portion in v. 9: “The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world.”
If you’re familiar with the rest of John 1, you’ll know that it almost reads like an alternative version of Genesis 1; compare, “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth,” (Genesis 1:1) with, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1).
John, it seems, starts before Genesis 1, clarifying that God the Father was joined by “the Word,” Jesus, when he created the universe. He continues to follow the pattern set in Genesis by moving on to describe the source of light—but the light provided by the Word is of a different caliber than the light that God speaks into existence and separates from darkness on day 1 of creation.
“In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
John 1:4-5
There’s an important distinction John wants us to see here. Unlike the sun, this light isn’t affixed in the sky, always brooding over the world but never quite interacting. In fact, something unprecedented was happening here: the light was coming into the world, entering the same plane of existence, becoming one and the same with the people it illuminated.
John’s story is not one of a God who sets the world in motion from afar and sits back to see how it’ll play out; it’s one of a God who steps right into the story.
But how? That’s where verse 14 comes in: “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”
In Genesis, God creates man and woman in his image—a detail that seems oddly prophetic when you know the full story. In John, God illustrates that he does not only look like us, but he is one of us: the person of Jesus.
And, don’t be deceived—Jesus’ humanity was not diminished by his divinity. Instead, he exists as fully God and fully human at the same time (the technical term for this status is “hypostatic union”). The Athanasian Creed puts it this way:
“He is God from the essence of the Father, begotten before time; and he is human from the essence of his mother, born in time; completely God, completely human, with a rational soul and human flesh; equal to the Father as regards divinity, less than the Father as regards humanity. Although he is God and human, yet Christ is not two, but one.”
As Christmas draws nearer, I’m sure you are feeling all the pressure and excitement that the season has to offer…and far be it from me to add another thing to your plate. Still, I want to encourage you to take a moment each day (even if it’s literally just a moment) to “fix your eyes on Jesus,” orienting your celebration and your heart toward thankfulness for him.
Now, LMK!
How do you celebrate the advent season? I’ll be discussing advent and the incarnation here on Warranted throughout the month of December, and I’d love to talk about it with you.
Who am I kidding—there’s always unfolded laundry in my house.