students of jesus

Christmas has come and gone. I am in debt so deeply I have no hope of paying back what I owe, but this debt brings me hope and joy. I am in debt to God’s great Incarnational act of love.

Hidden in the North American holiday habit of excess and over-spending is a parable. The bank of Heaven extended me a line of credit so vast it cannot be calculated, and I drew on every bit of the amount. Our great debt to God is love. And like all great debt, the only way to pay it back is a little at a time, each payment a reminder of the grand total.

To stretch this simple metaphor to its ultimate degree, the Bank of Heaven has many locations, currently approaching seven billion on the planet: since all humanity is made in his image, everyone becomes a location where I can present an installment on so happy a debt.

If you have been taught that the only meaning of grace is free-forgiveness you will certainly take issue with this line of thinking. “That’s what grace is all about,” you protest, “we cannot pay the debt of sin, nor should we imagine we could ever earn our way to heaven.” In our day this particular truth is too true, yet I am not talking about sin. I am talking about something as different from sin as water is from sand. I am talking about the Father’s love. If Christmas were only about divine rescue from sin, then the sin-debt—paid in full—would be the end of the issue. When we understand that Christmas is not about our sin but rather God’s great love, we will see what we received at Christmas was an advance upon the love of God.

The economics of the Incarnation turn every business model on its head: “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich.” The prudent Apostle Paul warned against the worldly debt but encouraged the debt of love: “Owe no one anything, except to love each other.” The love of God is the currency of Heaven, the coin of our payment to one another.

His genius is not compounding interest, but compounding equity. We repay the love debt with the very substance of the original act of God’s great love. All across the world, the love of God is repaid in acts of kindness done in his name. The effect is ever-increasing love, the source—and the payment—of our joyous debt.

In the sixth month, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”
Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.”
“How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?”
The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. For nothing is impossible with God.”
“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May it be to me as you have said.” Then the angel left her. (Luke 1: 26-38)

From this beloved passage we can find ten life-lessons from Mary of Nazareth:

In the sixth month . . . God’s clock was already ticking when the angel came to Mary. Just because God announces something to me doesn’t mean it began with me.

Pledged to be married . . . We have our plans. God has his.

You who are highly favored! The Lord is with you . . . Notice the connection between His favor and His presence. How could it be otherwise?
 . . .

Mary was greatly troubled at his words . . . When his favor is upon us it can be unsettling . . .

You will be with child . . . Sometimes we enlist in the purposes of God; sometimes we are drafted.

How will this be? . . . There is a world of difference between asking God “how” and asking him “why.”

The Holy Spirit will come upon you . . . When God answers the “how” question, this is the usual way He starts.

For nothing is impossible with God . . . You heard him. And this one is worth saying out loud, right now. All together: “For nothing is impossible with God”

I am the Lord’s servant . . . Even though Mary was drafted, she responds with a willing heart. It would make all the difference over the next 30 years.

Then the angel left her . . . There are times when we have angelic help, and there are times when we are on our own.

Merry Christmas, friends!

Some things hide in plain sight. Others hide behind fancy names. And still others hide among the over-decorated trappings of tradition dressed up as garish holiday cheer. Sometimes it’s all three.

The truth about Christmas is that God became a man. The transcendent Creator of the Universe, the One who sits outside his creation submerged himself in the work of his hands. The Playwright walked on stage in the middle of the show. The Coach became a player. The King became a commoner.

He wasn’t a Poser, pretending to be something other than what he was: he was born, and he grew; he came of age and took his place among us; he embraced his purpose and fulfilled it completely. He wasn’t slumming among us like some impostor: he laughed, he cried, he sweat. When we struck him, he bled. When we pierced him, he died.

Something as grand and wonderful as Christmas certainly has many sub-themes: peace on earth, goodwill toward men, hope for tomorrow, salvation for all, and the fulfillment of promise. We should listen to each line of the symphony and enjoy the beauty of each one. Put them all together than they point to the grand melody, that God became man.

When God became man, he demonstrated how to be human. His life, in the person of Jesus Christ, is the model of all lives, everywhere and in every time. Men from every age can look to Jesus has example. Women from every culture can discover fullness in him. God did not cheat the game by walking through life untouched by the trouble we face. He faced the same troubles we have faced, and indeed more, because to his trouble was added unique rejection of all mankind toward him. Humanity had never seen his type before, and this magnificent encounter between God and us resulted in our rejection of him, while he responded with un-rejectable love.

You can have your shepherds, wise men, angels, and mangers. For me, the grandeur of Christmas is captured in the gospel, which places its cards on the table right from the start:

The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God. The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth. (John 1:9-14)

John tells us plainly, “No one has ever seen God, but the one and only Son, who is himself God and is in closest relationship with the Father, has made him known.” (John 1: 18)

What does God look like? He looks like Jesus. The Father spoke himself in Jesus. The countless words of every generation, arrayed in questions, arguments, songs and poems have been answered in the single Word, Jesus. The same Word that spoke creation into being speaks life into us today.

When God became man, it looked like Jesus, and he still does. If we aspire to the presence of God in our everyday, we are really aspiring to Jesus. Because he is human we have the hope of his likeness. Because he is God, we have the certainty of his promise. All other messages flow from the Word made flesh. He was announced as Emmanuel, and he continues to reveal himself as such: God is forever with us because he has forever pitched his tent in the person of Jesus, the true lesson of Christmas.

One day you go to work, encounter an angel, and receive the best news of your life. But it’s too good to be true, so you’re not sure whether to trust your heart to happiness.

Then the angel gives you an assignment: keep silent for nine months and meditate on the work of God. This is the story of Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist. His story is also a part of the Christmas saga. 
 The angel who delivers good news to him is mildly offended at Zechariah’s inability to enter into joy and hope. This angel, Gabriel, has come straight from the presence of God, where the only news is good news. Gabriel’s response to fear and doubt is instructive: keep silent until it comes to pass. Then, nine months and eight days later, Zechariah’s voice returns.

What would you say after nine months of meditating on the goodness of God?
 Zechariah’s first words are recorded in Luke 1: 67-80. Nine months of reflection. Nine months to consider the work of God. Nine months to travel from doubt to insight; from fear to hope.

Here are seven vital words:

         §  Zechariah was “filled with the Holy Spirit.” His perspective had shifted from everyday life to the presence of God. (v 67) How many of us understand our need to dwell in the presence?

         §  The God of Israel is in the business of redemption, both personally and corporately. (vs 68-71). How many of us consider that God’s redemptive purposes extend beyond our own need?

         §  God’s saving action demonstrates his faithfulness to all generations, from Abraham forward. (vs 72-73) How many of us consider that God sees all of humanity before him at any given moment?

         §  The purpose of God’s saving action is so we can “serve him without fear.” (v74) How many of us consider God’s purpose in saving us?

         § John the Baptist’s ministry was solely to prepare the way for another. (v76) How many of us view ministry as releasing someone else to be the star?

         §  Isaiah’s fingerprints are all over Zechariah’s words (vs 77-79). How many of us allow the scripture to inform our wondering and meditation?

         §  Finally, the baby was only eight days old. Zechariah’s work was just beginning. (v80) How many of us see the fulfillment of God’s promise as the beginning instead of the end?

Elizabeth’s child wasn’t the only thing gestated during those nine months. Zechariah’s prophetic insight was birthed after it came full term, and we are better for it today.

God comes to us in unexpected ways, which means my expectation can be the very thing that causes me to miss him. This is a lesson from the first Christmas: God came to nation which eagerly longed for his coming, prayed for his return, and placed all their hopes in his presence. Yet most of the nation missed the hour of his visitation.

Is this simply history, or is it a parable for our day?

For centuries the people of God had looked for a day of God’s personal visitation. Suffering under the twin fists of Rome and King Herod (a counterfeit king), the people of the nation remembered the golden age of King David a thousand years earlier. They knew King David was the prototype of God’s chosen vessel, a unifying and conquering King who established Israel in peace, security, and prosperity. After David’s reign many the prophets began to anticipate a day the God of Israel would not rule through a representative king; instead, God would come personally, take his place on earth, and establish Jerusalem as his capital city.

The day of God’s visitation would be both glorious and terrifying. The oppressed (Israel) would be rescued and the oppressor (Persia, Syria, Greece, Rome--or whomever was on top at the time) would be cast down. The people of Israel were looking for their freedom. They expected God to judge the rest of the world as well. They expected God would come to the Temple and establish his throne on the earth. They expected the Day of the Lord would be both great and terrible: great for them, terrible for their enemies. These expectations were based on their understanding of the scriptures and the encouragement of their teachers. These expectations shaped their view of the world, and became the very substance of their hope.

Who could have imagined that when God came to earth personally, he would be dressed in the frailty of an infant child? Who could have imagined that someday God would indeed come to the Temple, only to declare that the true Temple was inside a human body? Who could have imagined that this King would establish his throne in the hearts of men? And perhaps most incredibly, who could have imagined that the Day of Judgment would indeed come, but that the Son of God would take the judgment upon himself in order to save the guilty?

Of course, in our day, we know these things. We are safe from any misunderstanding. We can see clearly. We have the scripture. We have great teachers. We are God’s people. But what if God’s people now are no different from God’s people then?

The first Christmas serves as an Advent meditation today: how do my expectations blind me to the coming of the King?