The battle was won in Bethlehem. The foundation for the Gospel—the death burial and resurrection of Christ—was laid in a manger. And that foundation could not (and will not) be shaken (Heb 12:28), for, “The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone” (Ps. 118:22), and that cornerstone was Immanuel, God with us.
In today’s post, I briefly want to dwell on five aspects of the Incarnation of the Son of God. This is by no means meant to be exhaustive. Whole treatises have been written on the subject, great tomes of theology published—this is not meant to be that. These are simply some things I have been thinking and reading about this advent, and, this Christmas day, I hope to share these with you in the hope that you are moved to worship the one by whom our salvation was secured: Jesus.
Christ as Immanent
Shot through the minor prophets is the coming immanence of the Lord. The eager expectation of the entire Old Testament reaches a boiling point in these twelve books. They speak of the unwavering faithfulness of God to his people amidst the unwavering unfaithfulness of his people to their God. Promises are made of judgment upon the nations. Condemnation will fall hard on those who mock God: the day of the Lord is near. Declarations sound of God’s covenant, and his steadfastness to upkeep it. And, in between all this, the coming of the Messiah is etched into everything.
The promised Root of David, the Scepter of Jacob, will be born in Bethlehem (Micah 5:2). The Lord will come and be sent by the Lord (Zech 2:9-12). “Judgment, restoration, and immanence!” blare the trumpets of the minor prophets.
“Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel” (Isaiah 7:14). Immanuel means God with us. The coming Messiah will not just seat the descendant of David upon an everlasting throne, although that’ll happen, he will also bring the immanence of God.
One of the most awesome things about our Tri-Personal God is that he is not merely transcendent, high and mighty far away from the earth, nor is he simply immanent, with no awe-inspiring I AM attributes: he is both at once. He is eternal, and yet he became incarnate for a time. He is infinite, yet he became finite as well. He rules from above, but has himself staked his territorial claim on the cross.
As Dutch Reformed theologian Herman Bavinck pointed out in his book The Wonderful Works of God, it is the same person who came down who also ascended into the highest heavens (Eph 4:10); it is the same person who according to the flesh is from the Patriarchs, yet according to his essence is God over all (Rom 9:5).
The incarnation reminds us that though God reigns in Heaven, he has lived here among us immanently. And the world hasn’t been the same since.
Christ as Image
Related to Jesus as the immanent God, Christ is also the image of God. This is distinct from the Imago Dei, which all mankind bears. Imago Dei means we reflect core things from our Creator. Christ is our Creator. While we mirror God, Christ is “the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature” (Heb 1:3).
Colossians tells us that Christ is the image of the invisible God (Col 1:15). This is one of many reasons we don’t need icons to worship God. We have no need of “images of God”, when THE image has revealed himself to us. In Christ, we see the Godhead. If you have seen Christ, you have seen the Father (John 14:9).
I once read about a church father who in response to a heresy (whether Arianism or Gnosticism, I forget) argued that we must begin our understanding of God with Christ. The Self-Revelation of God. Only when starting there can we even begin to comprehend the Godhead. Only when beginning from the True Image.
Christ as Upholder
Of the great truths of the Word is the providential nature of his power. Paul testifies that in him all things hold together (Col 1:17). Hebrews says that Christ upholds the universe with the word of his power (Heb 1:3). The Father speaks, and the Son is the very Word that was spoken.
This great truth did not stop when the Word became flesh (John 1:14). Even in the manger, the baby boy held the very atoms together. When becoming incarnate, Christ did not cease to be the upholder of the universe, but rather continued doing so even as a human child. Dr. Gavin Ortlund explains this with a comparison to an author writing himself into his own story. If Tolkien wrote himself into the Lord of the Rings, he would not cease to exist in reality, even as he existed in Middle-Earth—in fact, his existence in Middle-Earth is dependent upon him fulfilling his role as the author in the real world.
Christ’s two natures—Divine and human—existed in harmony within him. As the Chalcedonian Creed established:
“[O]ne and the same Christ, Son, Lord, Only-begotten, to be acknowledged in two natures, without confusion, without change, without division, without separation; the distinction of natures being by no means taken away by the union, but rather the property of each nature being preserved, and concurring in one person and one subsistence, not parted or divided into two persons, but one and the same Son, and only begotten, God the Word, the Lord Jesus Christ.”
The fullness of deity dwelt in Christ (Col 2:9), and fullness of deity he carried out—even sustaining the very universe into which he entered.
Christ as High Priest
When Christ came, he fulfilled the roles, or offices, of Prophet, Priest, and King. Prophet because he proclaimed the word of the Lord, King because he is David’s seed and eternal ruler, and Priest because…well, why? Because he makes atonement, once for all, covering the sins of his people.
Hebrews 4-10 details extensively how Jesus is the High Priest of a New and better covenant, not after the Levitical Priesthood, but after the Order of Melchizedek. A High Priest propitiates the wrath of God, and Christ most certainly did this, drinking the cup of God’s wrath on the cross. He makes atonement by offering a sacrifice, and Christ again accomplished this through his own sacrifice.
Hebrews makes use of two phrases all throughout the book: “Once for all” and “draw near.” Both of these relate the work accomplished in Christ’s atonement. “Once for all” speaks of how, in the Old Covenant, a priest would first atone for his sins and the sins of Israel using a sacrifice. This sacrifice would be repeated yearly, and merely appeased the wrath of God, never fully satisfying it. But Christ, the new High Priest in town, once and for all propitiated the wrath of God by offering himself. A pure and eternal sin offering that never needed to be repeated. Not only because his sacrifice was sufficient in itself, although it was, but also because Christ is never not interceding before the throne of God on behalf of his people.
And that brings us to “draw near.” On its face, this is a reminder to, well, draw near. Come closer to God. But also, this is priestly language. The Holy of Holies, the Holiest room in the temple, could only be entered into by the High Priest, at a special time of year, for a very specific sacrifice. But now, through Christ, we can enter into the very presence of God in the Holy of Holies, because we have been washed clean by his blood. I like how David Mathis of DesiringGod puts it: “Not only does Christ enter God’s presence on our behalf, but he welcomes us in his wake.” Because of his once for all sacrifice, we now may be assured and have confidence to draw near to the throne of God, and receive grace (Heb 10:19-23, Heb 4:14-16).
This High Priest is far better than the old kind and has given us more than we ever hoped to imagine possible. Screwtape is hopping mad in his letter to Wormwood that “the Enemy” has become like a man, granting him a massive advantage over “Our Father Below.” And it is true. We have a High Priest who never dies, and whose atoning work never ceases, and whose compassion knows no end.
Christ as Subversion
Herod sought to end a rival. Satan was ready to frame God as an oppressive tyrant-king. The Jews desired a revolutionary rescuer for a Messiah. In the midst of all of it, a little child was born to a Virgin teenager with her carpenter betrothed, with no more fanfare than a choir concert to some sheep, and it was checkmate: God won.
ND Wilson points out in the final chapter of Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl that should we have known God was going to become man, we would look to the sky in anticipation of a flaming chariot, being drawn by a trio of spectacular horses, with no less than 144 legions of angels behind. And we would honestly be looking in the right place.
But instead, God was born in hay. A few shepherds came. Two old people had their promises fulfilled by God at the temple. The Wise Men got there late. Why so… subversive?
It’s common to see shows “subvert” viewers expectations. Game of Thrones wanted to let people know that Fantasy wasn’t just for kids. It was for adults too (HBO exec rubs hands together gleefully). Of course, these subversions are often tiresome, or simply offensive to reasonable people. But the Gospel is the subversion to end all subversions. I mean, look at the stakes.
The Suffering Servant came to die brutally, a gentle and lowly lamb. Who would’ve guessed? The Man of Sorrows loved children, healed the sick, and comforted the afflicted. Where’s the guy with the sword?
But the more one thinks, the more the beauty of the thing is revealed. When Christ emptied himself (Phil 2), not of deity but of due recognition, one realizes the gravity of his choice. The one who has been exalted from all eternity in heaven, came to be scorned and mocked and derided for 30-odd years in the dusty earth. It is contrary to what all would expect, which is why it is perfect.
There was never a more winsome act than the Incarnation. Considering the subversive beauty, the glorious humility, the raw realness of the thing, one cannot help but be moved to worship.
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