The Word became flesh

Gratitude is one of the hallmarks of genuine Christian faith. Christians are those who give joyful thanks for the gospel—those actions of God that serve to bring a people called by His name into communion with Himself.

The Fall shattered everything, driving men and women out of the light of God’s presence and into a darkness of their own making. The Son, through the Spirit, brings those who dwell in this everlasting night back into that glorious relationship with the Father that was their original destiny. And for that greatest of truths, we should rightly thank God every day. But perhaps we might, especially at Christmas, as we contemplate that moment when the time had fully come, when God Himself became flesh, when the light once again shone into the darkness, and the greatest story ever told entered its most beautiful and dramatic phase. It is a time for rejoicing. It is a time for Christian contemplation. We should take the opportunity it provides to allow our hearts to be filled with great thoughts of the Word made flesh.

“The Word made flesh.” What a dramatic set of paradoxes that little phrase embodies. For sure, God is mysterious in the Old Testament. Yet how much more mysterious is He revealed to be in the womb of Mary and the manger at Bethlehem? There, the infinitely majestic One manifests Himself in the fragility of finite human form. The eternal Son of the divine Father takes created flesh and is born in time from His human mother. The Creator of all things enters His own creation as a creature. The sovereign and self-sufficient God who needs nothing from anyone makes Himself subject to His own creation, a helpless baby in a manger dependent on others even for His food, clothing, and shelter. The One in whom all things live, move, and have their being draws life from the milk of His mother’s breast. The One who cannot die clothes Himself with human nature and sets out on that long, arduous path that will lead to His violent and bloody death.

We should use this time of year to contemplate who this God is who acts in such a way, for God is not constituted by the action of Incarnation. He does not change or somehow become God at Christ’s conception. Rather, the delicate, fragile humanity of the Christ-child becomes the medium through which He reveals Himself as He is toward His people. What will one day be shown in dramatic power at the Transfiguration and more so at His Second Coming begins in the womb and is first witnessed by the shepherds. As they gaze upon the face of the baby Jesus, they gaze upon the second person of the Trinity clothed in human flesh. Yes, there are two natures there—divine and human—but only one person.

This is a time for joyful devotion. Christian, behold your God, lying in a manger, nursing at His mother’s breast, proclaimed by angels, adored by shepherds. And as you adore the Incarnate God, may some idea of the immensity of His love crystallize in your soul. May you forget for a moment the trivia of this world and be overwhelmed by the mysterious God who would—and could—do such a thing, who delighted to do such a thing. And may you therefore be grateful not simply for what God does but for who He has revealed Himself to be.