Christmas According to John
The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
Of course we can focus on minutiae and fail to see the beauty presented in the story of God’s love. Nevertheless, for a moment think of separating the Christmas story into component parts. If you could place the Christmas event in a test tube, testing its reaction to various tests such as one might conduct in the laboratory, what do you suppose you would discover? If you were able somehow to dissect that holy season, exposing each component part for careful and minute scrutiny, what do you suppose you would learn?
We are given a perfect revelation of the Living God in the Christian celebration of Christmas, and few writers have done more to reveal the essence of Christmas than has the disciple whom Jesus loved. Though we are not prone to think of John as one of the Scripture writers who provided a detailed account of the advent of our Lord, he nevertheless made a considerable contribution to our understanding of that holy event. In reality, John details the heart of Christmas in the opening verses of his Gospel. In particular, the verse which serves as our text is decidedly a Christmas text which has too long been neglected by both pulpit and pew.
God Became Man is the first thing we learn upon even a casual perusal of the text. In John's words, The Word became flesh… With apology neither to unbeliever nor to misguided wannabe believers—The Word is God. Moreover, this Christ from Whom Christians derive their name and to Whom they look, is the Word of Whom John wrote and is therefore Himself God. We do not say He ceased to be God, but rather that in Him we witness a unique Being—the God‑man. This Christ was neither man alone divested of all the attributes of the Divine nor was He God separated and aloof from man. We do not see Him revealed as demigod stationed somewhere between man and God; but He is revealed at once both as God and as man. This is the ancient and unceasing declaration which has defined the Christian Faith from earliest days. Without belabouring the point, yet daring not to overlook the need to provide sound instruction in this vital aspect of the Faith, this is the consistent teaching of the whole of the written Word of God.
Indeed, when John wrote he employed a Greek philosophical concept, introducing readers forthwith to the Word. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God [John 1:1]. Whatever else may be said of that stunning statement, it is evident that the individual identified as the Word is eternal, for He was in the beginning. Moreover, The Word was intimately associated with and identified with God, for the Word was with God. That God was the Word (for that is the literal translation of John's Greek [qeo;" h\n oJ lovgo"]) is evident from this most specific statement which can be translated in no other way.
Here is an important aside to believers who have suffered through assaults of zealous religious anarchists (Jehovah's Witnesses) at the doors of their own homes. John's choice of words—without the definite article—is the strongest possible construction for stating qualitatively that the Word is God. It is as if He pointedly stated that the Word was by nature God. He writes of this One who is identified as very God (the Word) that the Word became flesh. The Word burst on the human scene, sharing man's condition of mortality.
Who can fathom such a thought? Who, in their wildest imaginations, could conceive that God would become as one of His creatures? Who could dream that the Living God would make Himself helpless, dependent upon a woman's nourishment and reliant upon for her to care for His every need? In the Christmas story God submitted Himself to the tutelage of a man, learning how to co-ordinate eyes and hands to make such mundane items as yokes and ploughs, and tables and benches. Before salvation was complete God would know what it was to experience exhaustion, thirst, hunger—experiences common to the flesh. God would know what it was to be grieved, to experience rejection, to see unfulfilled longing.
Was not the heart of the Saviour broken over His rejection by Israel, the chosen people? Did He not sorrow at the self‑destructive choices of individuals such as the rich young ruler? Did He not weep with Mary and Martha at the cruel invasion of death tearing at the soul of a family and insuring that the survivors felt helpless in the face of that final, relentless assault? Did He not weep over Jerusalem, longing to comfort those within that great city, though the inhabitants would not permit Him to spare them from the consequences of their own wicked choice? This is a mystery of love we can never explain, though we may indeed experience it. We may experience the compassionate love of God as we receive this Christ as Master of life.
There is a marvellous paragraph included in the early verses of the Book of Hebrews. That particular paragraph it affords us insight into God's purpose in this act of becoming one with His fallen creation. Since the children have flesh and blood, He too shared in their humanity so that by His death He might destroy him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil—and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death. For surely it is not angels He helps, but Abraham's descendants. For this reason He had to be made like His brothers in every way, in order that He might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that He might make atonement for the sins of the people. Because He Himself suffered when He was tempted, He is able to help those who are being tempted [Hebrews 2:14‑18].
The corollary of that truth is found just a few short verses away. Since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathise with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need [Hebrews 4:14‑16]. This, then, is the Christian Faith. At a specific point in time, the Word—God—became flesh, fully identifying with man. God became man. That is the marvel of Christmas.
God Is Approachable is the second Christmas truth which John has provided us. We witness this truth when he read of the Word made flesh that He made His dwelling among us. John's language is expressive in a way that may prove difficult for us to grasp in this day. He says, rather literally, He tented among us. Skhnovw, the Greek word here translated by the English phrase made His dwelling, speaks of living in a tent, or of taking up one's temporary dwelling place. Emphasise in your mind the transient nature of His earthly body during the time of His presence with us and you will have begun to seize the thrust of John's statement. Christ was not born to remain forever in the form in which He appeared when He came the first time.
What has this statement to do with God being approachable and willing to receive man into His presence? In order to answer this question I must refresh your memories with the details of the way and the places in which God was worshiped under the Old Covenant. Before the Law was given, men worshiped God by approaching Him through sacrifices presented upon an altar. Those altars were situated in places which filled men with awe and with dread. As an example of such a place, recall the account of when God made His covenant with Abram, we read that Abram fell into a deep sleep, and a thick and dreadful darkness came over him [Genesis 15:12b]. The approach of God is associated with dreadful darkness. Jacob, visited by the angels of God at the place called Bethel, was afraid and said, “How awesome is this place” [Genesis 28:17a]! Those places where man would approach the True and Living God were inevitably places of fear and dread—for there the Most High revealed Himself as great and awesome.
Then, when the Law was given, Moses was instructed to build a Tabernacle—a Tent of Meeting—where man and God would meet through the intermediacy of a high priest. Though only a rude tent when viewed from the outside, the presence of God sanctified that Tabernacle, making it a place of awe and dread. Within that Tabernacle was the Holy Place, which in turn was separated from the Most Holy Place. The Most Holy Place was where none save the high priest was permitted to go, and he was permitted to enter that Most Holy Place but once a year and then only with the blood of atonement. That innermost sanctuary, lighted by the glory of God and shielded from the gaze of worshipers by the great curtain was a place of mystery and awe. It is significant that whenever God was resident within that Tent of Meeting a cloud stood over the Tabernacle. Those who would come near to God would pass into the cloud, just as Moses had to pass through the thick cloud to come to God on Mount Sinai [see Exodus 19:16‑21]. The approach to God was awesome and dreadful. This was manner of approach to the Lord of Glory, the Living God, when the people would meet with Him in the Tabernacle.
When Solomon built the first Temple, the place where God chose to make His dwelling place, that holy edifice became for worshippers a place which inspired awe and dread, just as the Tabernacle had previously been a place of wonder and mystery for worshippers. Solomon offered up a prayer of dedication, asking and inviting the Most High God to occupy a place built with human hands, though he recognised that The heavens, even the highest heavens, cannot contain You [2 Chronicles 6:18]. When that prayer was finished, fire came down from heaven and consumed the burnt offering and the sacrifices, and the glory of the LORD filled the Temple. The priests could not enter the Temple of the LORD because the glory of the LORD filled it. When all the Israelites saw the fire coming down and the glory of the LORD above the Temple, they knelt on the pavement with their faces to the ground, and they worshiped [2 Chronicles 7:1‑3a]. Wouldn't you fall down? When God reveals His might and power man involuntarily falls in awe.
The Temple rebuilt after the exile was also a place of reverential fear. When the Romans secured Jerusalem during the Jewish revolt, however, first Pompey and then Titus entered into the Holy of Holies to see for themselves what made this place held sacred by the Jews special [Josephus' Wars of the Jews, I.VII.6 and VI.IV.7]. In neither instance do we read that these pagan warriors were filled with dread or fear as were ancient worshipers; but then, the glory of God had already withdrawn as it had in an earlier day witnessed by Ezekiel.
The glory of the LORD departed from over the threshold of the temple and stopped above the cherubim. While I watched, the cherubim spread their wings and rose from the ground, and as they went, the wheels went with them. They stopped at the entrance to the east gate of the LORD’s house, and the glory of the God of Israel was above them [Ezekiel 10:18, 19]. I am compelled to note that there is but one thing more dreadful than the presence of God, and that is when the glory of God has departed that place wherein it was previously found.
The glory of God had long before departed the Temple when the Christ was born and God made His dwelling among us. Worship of the Lord God had first slipped and then slid into rite and ritual and routine—mere duties mindlessly carried out by supposed specialists. The body of Jesus Christ, the Word, became the new localisation of God's presence on earth. When He unveiled His glory, those who worshiped Him were awe-struck, as when He was transfigured [see Matthew 17:1‑8]. He was the personification of Isaiah's suffering servant, and just as the Tabernacle was undistinguished from the outside, so of Christ it is fair to say,
He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to Him,
nothing in His appearance that we should desire Him
[Isaiah 53:2b].
Though the world could not realise the magnitude of its unbelief, men who should have been distinguished by wisdom and knowledge rejected the presence of God with man and led others to join in their revolt against reason. Earlier in his Gospel account, John had stated, almost with a note of wonder, that He was in the world, and though the world was made through Him, the world did not recognise Him [John 1:10]. Of this voluntary and terminal blindness, the Apostle to the Gentiles will observe of our message of grace that we speak of God's secret wisdom, a wisdom that has been hidden and that God destined for our glory before time began. None of the rulers of this age understood it, for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory [1 Corinthians 2:7, 8].
There is another, vital, aspect which relates to this great truth that God is approachable. In the revelation that the Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us is the evidence that is too readily ignored in this day of when man is deified. The initiative for coming to God lies with Him and not with us. However much man may have longed to approach God, to know God and to be accepted by God, he could not fulfil his aspirations because sin intervened to keep him from God. Therefore man played a devastating charade in which he went through the motions of seeking to open a way to God when no way was to be found. Some pretended there was no God, and therefore attempted to convince themselves that they were all right. Like a man falling from the top of a tall building and passing the third floor saying confidently to himself, "Okay so far!" these willingly blind stare in the face of certain judgement and say, "Okay so far!". Others imagined that God must be like them and thought that they could therefore manipulate Him into doing their will. Through the invention of rites or imposition of religious exercises, they pretended they were coercing God into accepting them. They even thought they could perfect themselves, forcing God to receive them. But they died just the same, stepping into eternity without hope and living out their few days without God in the world.
Those startling words spoken by the Lord humble us and remind us that He must be the initiator of our salvation. No one comes to the Father except through me [John 14:6b]. Just as our approach to the Father is dependent upon entering through Christ, so No one can come to [Him] unless the Father who sent [Him] draws him [John 6:44; see also John 12:32]. Let me remind you of a truth, though you know it well: It is not that we find God … God finds us. God is not lost; man is lost. Of His mission of rescue, Jesus said, The Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost [Luke 19:10]. God through Isaiah stated long years ago,
I revealed Myself to those who did not ask for Me;
I was found by those who did not seek Me
[Isaiah 65:1a].
We did not ascend up to Heaven, then, to enter into the presence of God; but God, entering the world through the miracle of human birth, approached man that man might be rescued from death and enter into life. Who of us can begin to understand the marvel of divine love demonstrated in the advent?
God Has Revealed Himself is the third great Christmas truth John presents. Because the Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us, we are given a marvellous opportunity through the senses of the apostles. We have seen His glory, says the apostle—a statement reminiscent of that other introduction with which he begins his first letter. In that letter he writes, That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. The life appeared; we have seen it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us [1 John 1:1, 2]. Our translation lacks John’s wonder, though other translations have uniquely captured some of the power and wonder of his opening statement.
Charles B. Williams, in his translation of the New Testament, is noted especially for his ability to capture and translate into English the force and the dynamic of the Greek verb tenses. He treats John's opening sentences as follows. It is what existed from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our own eyes, what we have beheld, what our own hands have touched, about the very message of life—and that life has been unveiled to us, and we have seen it and now testify to it and we now announce it to you, yea, the eternal life that was with the Father and has been unveiled to us.
J. B. Phillips’ insightful paraphrase of the New Testament provides a delightful excursion into the excitement of the New Testament writings. He opens John's words in this way. We are writing to you about something which has always existed yet which we ourselves actually saw and heard: something which we had opportunity to observe closely and even to hold in our hands, and yet, as we know now, was something of the very Word of life himself! For it was life which appeared before us: we saw it, we are eyewitnesses of it, and are now writing to you about it. It was the very life of all ages, the life that has always existed with the Father, which became visible in person to us mortal men. We repeat, we actually saw and heard what we are now writing to you about.
When John writes, we have seen His glory, dare any say we can imagine what he saw? We have the record, but our own senses are dulled. The word John uses [qeavomai] was used of watching, as in a theatre. In fact, we can detect something of that sense even in the word itself; qeavomai sounds something like theatre. The thought conveyed in John's use of this word is that of careful consideration or contemplation. It speaks of spiritual perception arising out of careful physical scrutiny. John is saying quite plainly that he, as well as others, examined in detail, the glory of the Word which was revealed. He is providing us with a strong statement both of the veracity of his observations and of the accuracy of his conclusions so that we may share in his certainty. It is as though for a short while, God was under the microscope. Or, it is as though God stood in the laboratory, permitting Himself to be examined by man.
Writing of that time when God stood in man's examination room, three things stood out in the aged apostle's memory. He was impressed by the glory. Whenever we speak of the glory of an individual, the thought in our minds is usually that which brings praise or honour to the individual. Since we now examine the Word we are confident that we are examining that which brings praise and honour to God Himself. In particular, John directs attention to the character of God as revealed in this unique individual, stating that this character revealed through His life was His glory. The glory to which John refers is His presence and His power.
What inspired awe and dread in Abram, in Jacob, in David? Was it not that sense that they were in the presence of One so utterly different from all mankind that He could be described only as Other? Indeed there was the sense of might and majesty which suffused His being and the inherent knowledge that He could do as He willed; but it was that knowledge of the radical difference then present which overwhelmed them and drove them to their knees in wonder and marvel. What was it about the transfigured Christ which confused the disciples when they witnessed His metamorphosis on the Mount? No doubt the brilliance of His person was awesome, as was the knowledge that all power was actually resident in Him. It was not the sudden bursting on their consciousness that this was very God in whose presence they had stood, however. It was the unveiling of His glory which stunned them into silence or reduced them to incoherent platitudes. We have seen His glory. And so have we who know Him.
John, witnessing God as He was examined in man's laboratory, was indelibly impressed by the uniqueness of this One. The Word, by John's witness, is monogenhv". Historically, and in older translations especially, this Greek word has been translated only begotten. The thrust of that word to those first readers was that of sole, only, or unique. That is the thought motivating John when he iterates that we have seen His glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father. There has never been and there shall never be another like this One and Only Son of God. A few sentences farther we are informed, No one has ever seen God, but God the One and Only, who is at the Father's side, has made Him known (revealed or explained Him) [John 1:18].
Do you ever wonder what God is like? According to John, all you need do to make this discovery is to look at Jesus. Nor did John arrive at this conclusion on his own, for he had heard the Master gently rebuke Philip for asking that very thing. Don't you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time? Anyone who has seen Me has seen the Father [John 14:9]. This unique being, the Word, is strongly identified as God the One and Only.
The glory and the uniqueness of the Word impressed John, compelling him to include these qualities in his list of results resulting from careful examination. But he was also impressed by the person of this unique being, for unlike others of John's acquaintance, He was full of grace and truth. Of all the characterisations which could have been attributed to the God‑man, His fullness with grace and truth seem to stand out forcefully in John's mind. Grace, undeserved love, marks God as distinct from man. His mercy is extended without thought of man's abilities, for in contrast to God, man has no ability. His love is not predicated upon any condition man has or may ever attain, for man can never achieve the perfection demanded of Holy God.
Likewise, truth is unique to God. Who of us can state that we have never lived a lie, or that our very life is a statement of truth? We hide behind masks of our own design, carefully crafted to present just the image we think others would want to see or which we wish to present. The lies which rule us press us into the slavery of debt, insuring that we are fruitless in extending the work of God. If we never spoke a lie, we would nevertheless find truth wanting in our lives. Diogenes, the Athenian cynic, wandered the streets of Athens and peering intently into the face of everyone he met in a vain attempt to find one honest man. He would enjoy no greater success in Dawson Creek, circa 2000. Only one man has ever walked the face of this earth whose life was characterised as truth, and that One was the Christ, the Word.
The message is nearly complete. God became man, identifying with us in our weakness. In His humility and in His voluntary weakness He became vulnerable, demonstrating that He could be approached and thus issuing an invitation for each of us to come into His presence. Under the microscope of prejudiced examiners He was scrutinised, His words dissected and tested, His actions observed and His motives questioned, and His body even handled.
What was learned when all this had been accomplished and the examination complete? We learned that the glory of His presence need not be confined to that body which walked the dusty roads of Judea two millennia past, for now we discover that the same glory is resident in His Body which is the Church [see Ephesians 3:21]. We discovered that He was unique—the One and Only Son of God, Himself very God. But that uniqueness is not some esoteric truth confined to knowledge lost long centuries past. The uniqueness of the Son of God is equally true even today. Salvation is found in no one else, there is no other Name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved [Acts 4:12]. In this Christ we have seen the very person of God, full of grace and truth. That is yet our need, grace rather than judgement and truth rather than deceit. That is offered in the Christ of Christmas. This is our message; and this is our Faith. Will you accept Him?