Tag: Incarnation

As you read the Christmas story from Luke this Christmas, consider the words written by Darrell Bock in his commentary on Luke:

Luke 2:1-21 portrays Jesus’ birth with a simplicity that belies the event’s universal significance. The birth of the Davidic Savior and Messiah occurs in a room normally reserved fro animals. His crib is a feed trough. And yet the birth in Bethlehem is the beginning of the fulfillment of God’s most significant act for humans. From this simple setting emerges the Lord Jesus, the focus of all God’s promises and of all human hopes.

In Luke 2:11, Jesus’ life is introduced in terms of three titles: Savior points to his role as deliverer; Messiah points to his office in terms of the promised Anointed One of God; and Lord indicates his sovereign authority.

Jesus’ birth is set in the middle of Roman history, in the reign of Caesar Augustus, However, for Luke the key historical figure is not the powerful Roman ruler; it is the frail child, Jesus, the Christ, who is Lord. 

In the angelic exchange with the shepherds, the major point is heaven’s testimony to simple folk. The shepherds seem to represent humankind. After hearing angelic testimony of heaven’s joy over the birth, they respond admirably and go to see the child. They share the joy of heaven upon fulfillment of the word. The see, hear, and testify. Other bystander at the event marvel at what is happening as the birth produces a variety of responses. In Jesus, heaven and earth come together. 

-Luke (Vol. 1) by Darrell L. Bock, p. 225-226

Do we really understand the story of God becoming man? Do we really know what “coming down” would cost God? Do we see the incarnation as a story of love?

Consider the story of Father Damien as told by John Ortberg in his book God Is Closer Than You Think…

Father Damien was a priest who became famous for his willingness to serve lepers. He moved to Kalawao – a village on the island of Molokai, in Hawaii, that had been quarantined to serve as a leper colony.

For 16 years, he lived in their midst. He learned to speak their language. He bandaged their wounds, embraced the bodies no one else would touch, preached to hearts that would otherwise have been left alone. He organized schools, bands, and choirs. He built homes so that the lepers could have shelter. He built 2,000 coffins by hand so that, when they died, they could be buried with dignity.
Slowly, it was said, Kalawao became a place to live rather than a place to die, for Father Damien offered hope.

Father Damien was not careful about keeping his distance. He did nothing to separate himself from his people. He dipped his fingers in the poi bowl along with the patients. He shared his pipe. He did not always wash his hands after bandaging open sores. He got close. For this, the people loved him.

Then one day he stood up and began his sermon with two words: “We lepers….”

Now he wasn’t just helping them. Now he was one of them. From this day forward, he wasn’t just on their island; he was in their skin. First he had chosen to live as they lived; now he would die as they died. Now they were in it together.

One day God came to Earth and began his message: “We lepers….” Now he wasn’t just helping us. Now he was one of us. Now he was in our skin. Now we were in it together.