from Rebecca Reynolds over at The Rabbit Room. Check-enzie out: “The Hymn of the Crabapple Tree”

These are some meditations on the significance of the Incarnation from John 1:1-18 (full text posted here). For a semi-introduction to why I picked John for my Christmas meditation, see this post.

(4) In him was life, and the life was the light of men. (5) The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not overcome it….(9)The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

“in him was life”: It’s easy, at least for me, to just brush over phrases like these assuming I know what they mean, but never really stopping to consider exactly how they work out. What does it mean for life–an abstract concept and yet our most concrete reality–to be in something or someone? It sounds sort of like Life is contained inside of the Word, like when we say that there is water in a container. But then, we also say that there is water in the ocean, and what do we mean by that other than that the ocean is composed of water, that the substance of the ocean is water. And so in that sense, the Word not only contains life, but he is Life. And thus from him also flows Life.
“the light of men”: The metaphor John introduces here seems a little strange at first, but let’s think together for a second about what could be the significance of the Life of the Word being the light of men. First of all, without light, everything dies. If the sun ceased to shine, the world would cease to function. And if the light of men did not come into the world, so would the world cease to function. Secondly, without light we can perceive nothing, and thus we are totally blind. And when we can see nothing, we can know nothing. If the light of men did not come into the world, we would be spiritually floating around in a pitch-black vacuum, with no reality to cling to. And so we see that darkness–the absence of light–is presented here as a metaphor for death.
“the light shines in the darkness”: But the opposite of darkness is light, and the beautiful thing about this contrast is that dark and light are not equal powers vying for control. In fact, dark is no substance at all, but wherever the light shines, there is darkness totally defeated.
“the true light…was coming into the world”: When the Word, whose life is the light of men, came into the world, darkness was crushed in a single blow. Perhaps we have not yet seen all the effects of this victory yet; perhaps there are still shadows and unlit corners of our world; perhaps our vision is still dull and dim, as the clouds of our fallen world hide the direct light of the sun. And yet–and yet–Light has won, and one day very soon the triumph will be complete. But even now, the coming of the kingdom of light has been inaugurated. With light, there IS life. With life, we CAN see. The presence of light is the absence of death.

(16) And from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.

This is one of the greatest, if not the single greatest mystery of the Incarnation: that we–rebels, enemies, God-haters; homeless, helpless, hopeless–that we “should gain from his reward”. Just take a minute to let this soak into your heart and mind. The Word became flesh for us. Now that is incredible.

(14) And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have see his glory, glory as of the Only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.

“the Word became flesh”: Oh, may this never cease to blow our minds every time we read or hear or think about this! May we never lose the wonder of Immanuel–God with us!
“and we have seen his glory”: But the mystery does not end there. For God did not come to us in some ethereal, only spiritual way. He was not just “in the midst of us” as he was with Israel in the cloud and fire, or in the ark, or through the prophets. He was here with us AS ONE OF US! But more than that, he was not just here in the physical sense. Christ did not give up his Godhood when he came to earth, nor was his glory somehow lessened when he put on flesh. But think about what this verse means when it says “we have seen his glory”. In the Word become flesh, the Glory of God was clothed in flesh not to hide it, but to reveal it!

(18) No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father’s side, he has made him known.

In the Word become flesh, man can literally see God. We can finally truly know God. In the Incarnation, God is no longer to us merely the Force that created and sustains the universe, but a Person. A Person that the disciples could see and touch and hear, and a Person that even now we can interact with and love and be loved by and communicate with–that we can really know. Had God not become a Man, we would never have been able to know him; but not only that, we would never have been able to know Reality. In the Incarnation, God bridged the uncrossable chasm between the physical world we breath in and the spiritual world our souls inhabit. When the Word became flesh, he restored the marriage between soul and body which was broken by the Fall–something we could never have done on our own.

Without the Incarnation, we are not only doomed to eternal Hell because of our sins, but all of creation would have remained under the dominion of darkness, which is death. Without the Incarnation, even the sun would not rise. But praise be to God that the Sun has risen indeed, and he has come with healing in his wings.

Merry Christmas and glory in the highest to Emmanuel!

As I thought a little bit more about the first chapter of John, I realized that perhaps it would be better to just post the first 18 verses, and let you meditate on them yourself, and let them sink into your mind and heart, before I try to share my limited view of them. So I’ll post some aids for meditation tomorrow (Christmas morning), but for now I strongly encourage you to take some time to read through and think about this introduction to John’s history of Jesus life and ministry. I think you will find it rewarding, as I have.

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 were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness, to bear witness about the light, that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but came to bear witness about the light.

The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. (John bore witness about him, and cried out, “This was he of whom I said, ‘He who comes after me ranks before me, because he was before me.’”) And from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father’s side, he has made him known.

I’m going to suggest something that most people would probably consider somewhat outlandish. I’m going to suggest that this Christmas we not focus on trying to retell all the details of the Christmas stories–angels and shepherds and wise men and all that. And in fact, I’m going to go so far as to suggest that we not give our attention in any serious degree to any of the narrative surrounding the birth, or the even the life, of Jesus.

Instead, here’s what I recommend for us to do this Christmas as we celebrate what this year is all about: let’s read John’s introduction to his gospel (chapter one, verses one through eighteen), taking it in phrase by phrase, and stew on the profound truth of the Incarnation that John expounds so brilliantly and elegantly, yet so simply.

Thinking about the Incarnation from the narrative perspective can be very helpful, because the story reveals many facets of God’s character and His love for us. We see in the virgin birth God’s sovereign and omnipotent hand; we see in the dirty manger God’s utter disregard for the world’s value system; we see in the helpless infant Jesus the unfathomable paradox of the Vulnerable Almighty. And there is so much more. But if you grew up in church like most of us here at Mere, the Christmas story, and even its more profound applications, can easily fade into tradition and rote regurgitation of something we think we already understand. And the minute we begin to think, even subconsciously, that we understand Emmanuel–the minute we lose our awe at the concept of the God Man–we have at that moment lost the significance of Christmas. And when our Christmas celebrations get reduced to tradition and unthinking liturgy, we have totally wasted the immeasurable riches implicit in the Christmas holiday. The whole purpose of Christmas is to help us to meditate on the wonder of the Incarnation, and if we get so lost in the Christmas story (not to mention gifts and parties and “holiday cheer”) that we forget to meditate on God-with-us, we have wasted Christmas.

For that reason, I suggest that we try to think about the Incarnation a different way this year, and really devote ourselves to meditate on its mystery, and what it means for us, for the world, for the church, and even for the whole universe. On Christmas Eve and Christmas Day I’ll post some of my thoughts on a few different parts of John chapter one which I hope might help us to consider anew some aspects of the Incarnation that are often overlooked. And ultimately, my prayer is like Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians (found in Ephesians 3:14-21), that we might better comprehend the love of God.

For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.
Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

In the beginning was the Word…

Have you ever stopped to consider this opening sentence of John’s Gospel, not from a literary or historical or philosophical or doctrinal or hermeneutical perspective, but simply thinking of John as a real person, a regular fisherman from Galilee, when he first sat down to write his gospel? I can just imagine him pacing distractedly across a room, a younger disciple sitting by attentively, waiting to take down John’s dictation. The words are swirling through his head, on the tip of his tongue but ever so elusive–like minnows scatter when your hand touches the water, and just when you think you’ve got one in your grasp it slips away…–and then finally. He spins around on his heel and begins, quickly: “in the beginning” (a quite unoriginal phrase, perhaps, but a fitting echo of Genesis 1) then pauses for a moment, as if to let the importance of what he is about to dictate sink into his own mind. Then slowly but confidently he exhales: “was the Word”. And after that first monumental sentence he resumes his pacing and his dictating, but this time more slowly–and more deliberate–as the thoughts begin to coalesce in his mind, stilling–like ripples in calm water quickly fade into peace: “…and the Word was with God, and God was the Word…*”.

Or maybe that’s not how it happened. Maybe there was no scribe after all, and John was sitting at a table, parchment spread out, writing utensil in hand, carefully choosing his words. Or maybe the thinking was all already done–it had been stewing in his mind for years and years–so that one day he sat down and without hesitation penned the whole book at once. I don’t know how it happened. And most likely I never will. But as we approach Christmas–the day we set aside to celebrate and remember the beauty of the Incarnation–Emmanuel–I can think of nothing more fitting than to consider the wonder and reverence and ecstasy that the disciples must have had when they thought back on that great mystery which they were blessed to behold, and to live with, and walk beside, and listen to, and love.

Let us not waste this Christmas by leaning on old platitudes about “Jesus birthday” and “silent nights” and all such unhelpful, if not totally untrue sayings. Rather, let us steep ourselves in meditation on the dirty, sublime, incomprehensible, certain, bloody, divine mystery of GOD WITH US. And may we ever kneel in awe-struck worship before the newborn King–Son of God, Son of Man: Emmanuel.

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory, glory as of the Only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.

I lent said book to someone recently, and when they returned it to me, I was inspired to reread the beginning of chapter 14 (which, the first time I read it, had a major impact on how I live). Here’s a string of quotes that sums up well what hit me so hard when I read it originally. It’s a lesson we all desperately need to learn.

“The Lord Jesus accepted is holiness begun; the Lord Jesus cherished is holiness advancing; the Lord Jesus counted upon as never absent would be holiness complete…”

“He is most holy who has most of Christ within, and joys most fully in the finished work. It is defective faith that clogs the feet and causes many a fall…”

“And how to have our faith increased? Only by thinking of all that Jesus is and all He is for us: His life, His death, His work, He Himself as revealed to us in the Word, to be the subject of our constant thoughts. Not a striving after faith…but a looking to the Faithful One seems all we need; a resting in the Loved One entirely, for time and for eternity.”

This quote from Chapter 14 of the biography of Hudson Taylor (written by his son and daughter-in-law), is I think a verse to live by. It’s especially meaningful to me, because it aptly sums up what I have been learning in my life. The quote is from a letter that one of his friends sent him, which God used to illuminate this profound truth about faith in his life. I highly recommend reading the entire chapter, as it is profoundly encouraging, but this little snippet capture the main point very well.

“He is most holy who has most of Christ within, and joys most fully in the finished work”
How then to have our faith increased? Only by thinking of all that Jesus is and all He is for us: His life, His death, His work, He Himself as revealed to us in the Word, to be the subject of our constant thoughts. Not a striving to have faith . . . but a looking off to the Faithful One seems all we need; a resting in the Loved One entirely, for time and for eternity.

Just as a little add-on to Trey’s Assurance of Salvation series he has recently posted, I encourage you to give the old hymn Blessed Assurance as listen. I’ve found it’s a great song to sing when I’m having doubts about my faith. (Though I would prescribe worship to any number of spiritual conditions…actually, all of them.) Anyway, here are the words:

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long;
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.

Perfect submission, perfect delight,
Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
Angels, descending, bring from above
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.

Perfect submission, all is at rest,
I in my Savior am happy and blest,
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.

This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long;
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.

written in 1873 by Fanny J. Crosby

My favorite arrangement of this song is by Jadon Lavik, off of his CD “Roots Run Deep.” Here’s the recording, complete with lyrics and random background pictures. (I recommend the CD!)

What is/are your favorite hymn(s)?

This is a poem by C.S. Lewis that I have been enjoying lately. Maybe you will too:

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.

Peace, re-assurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:
I talk of love –a scholar’s parrot may talk Greek–
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.

Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making
My heart into a bridge by which I might get back
From exile, and grow man. And now the bridge is breaking.

For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains
You give me are more precious than all other gains.

What does this poem say to you?

For those of you who read Trey’s most recent post, the link for Piper’s sermon Fight For Joy is here. You can listen and/or download it. Enjoy.

Brian