Pastor Tom Johnson, December 25, 2011
John’s Gospel begins by reminding us that the birth of Jesus is not the beginning of the story of the Son of God. It is a continuation of the story. Jesus’ birth is the fulfillment of the promised Messiah and Son of God. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him and without him not one thing came into being.”
If scientists are right about the beginning of the universe, then John is telling us that Jesus—the eternal Word—is the one who lit the fuse to ignite the Big Bang. The Word himself not only rode the storm of matter spreading throughout the universe but superintended the very fabric of the cosmos itself. He is the one who wove the fabric of life together from the bottom up. “All things came into being through him and without him not one thing came into being.” He has no beginning. He lives in reality outside time, space, and matter. He stands outside of creation. He is the Author of creation.
Like the Psalmist whose intelligence can only grasp so much, we cry, “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it” (Ps 139:6). The living and eternal Word, uncreated, all powerful, all knowing, ever present who created all that we know and can observe—the Light who shines in the darkness but the darkness cannot overcome. This Word—this remarkable Word—“became flesh and lived among us.” Two miraculous births tied together—two births tethered together in history—the birth of the universe and the birth of a human child who is also the eternal Word. This deep mystery of the incarnation pushes the limits of human cognition—that the Word was made flesh. It surpasses our understanding. But as it does so, it is meant to baptize us in that peace that also passes understanding.
Such a vision of Jesus delivers us from going through the motions of Christmas. It legitimizes the experience of many who painfully live through the holidays under a cloud of darkness—which John acknowledges about this troubled world. He describes the inhabitants of this world as those in darkness, incomplete, in the shadows, unenlightened, powerless, and alone. Don’t get me wrong, I love granny’s pies, tinsel on trees, and cheerful Christmas songs. But we must not think of the Word made flesh as an abstraction or an event of the distant past. He is the Word made flesh. That Word that dwells in the Body of Jesus and dwelled among us on earth two thousand years ago is the same Word whose light still shines through the darkness. He is the same Word who is continually given to the world. John does not say the light “shined” but says “the Light shines in the darkness.” This is “the true light which enlightens everyone.” And through this Word, God still gives us power and adoption as children of God—not born of blood, the will of the flesh, or the will of humans, but of God. This text is about the birth of the universe, the birth of the eternal Son of God, and the new birth we have through that same Word.
A story I recently heard reminds me of the beauty of this truth. It’s the story of Louis Zamperini in the book Unbroken. The movie based on his story is already in production and will be released in theatres in about a year. It’s the story of a troublemaker who becomes a world-class athlete. He goes to war and, against all odds, survives bombing missions, a plane wreck, months stranded and starving on a life raft, shark attacks, imprisonment, torture, and the ravages of alcoholism.
For the better part of his life, Jesus was simply an abstraction to Louis—a name to curse in times of trouble—the Bible, a dust-covered book on the shelf. He spent years trapped in the bondage anger, bitterness and vengeance, suffering from recurring nightmares of his torturers, and unable to be free himself from addiction.
Just at the point you think that Louis’ marriage, body and spirit will all be broken, his wife invites him to hear the preaching of Billy Graham at a Los Angeles crusade. It was while he was walking out of the meeting in a rage and disgust of what he heard that he experiences that Word made flesh.
Louis Zamperini no longer merely hears about the Word made flesh, he experiences the Word made flesh. The transformation of his life is no less dramatic than before. It’s in his own powerlessness that he discovers the power of the Word who lives, died, and rose again. It is the greatest miracle of his life.
“And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.” This same Word lives and fills our lives today. The great miracle of Christmas is ours in Christ.
“Come, Thou long-expected Jesus. Born to set Thy people free; From our fears and sins release us; Let us find our rest in Thee. Israel’s strength and consolation, Hope of all the earth Thou art, Dear desire of ev’ry nation, Joy of ev’ry longing heart” (LSB 338 v 1).
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