The birth of Jesus points us forward to the cross where his death and resurrection bring us forgiveness of sin. The cross reconciles us to God and to each other. We sing about Immanuel, God with us, remembering that without the incarnation, there is no cross. Jesus did not come in splendor and majesty, but in lowliness and humility. There was shame in his birth, in his life and in his death. This is not without intention or great significance. Diane Langberg writes on this idea, “And then a baby born to an unwed mother — shameful. A child of Nazareth — shameful. A man who walked the roads with women in his company — shameful. He touched lepers, demoniacs, and bothered with children — shameful. . . He was shamed by the world he had made. He became shame, embodied it” (2015, pg. 138). This was a willful choice to show his great love for us. Jesus embodying shame is a message that his love is greater than our sin, and that we are not too far gone. Jesus entered our reality with us so that he can bring restoration. God uses the foolish things of the world to shame the wise. The birth and life of Jesus did just that. Jesus turned everything upside down, reversing the cursed reality that we have lived under for many generations. He came “to destroy the works of the devil” (NASB, I John 3:8) so that we are no longer defined by our sin, but rather as beloved children.
Advent is a time of tension. We have the relief of a finally fulfilled promise and a prophecy come true. At the same time, we still await another promise. Our hearts long for the day when our redemption will be made full and the groans of creation and ourselves can be quieted. We lament because this world is not what it should be, and we are not what we should be. The enemy of our souls convinced our first parents to doubt God’s word and his voice. We have not been the same since. Our fundamental identity — image-bearer— has been dimmed, diminished, and distorted by sin and fallenness. Our purpose — co-creator and co-worker with the God of the universe has been lost. Adam and Eve had the pleasure of the presence of God dwelling with and walking with them, but now there is a chasm so deep and wide that we cannot even begin to close. We went from communion to distance. Glory to shame.
But then, the birth of a child, Immanuel, changes all of that. God is with us because the Word put on flesh. The same God who walked in the garden with his beloved creation is the one who came to dwell with us again. Let us not miss the significance of how deep and beautiful this is. God became small; Jesus traded bigness to be implanted in a womb. He traded heaven for a broken and dirty world. He was surrounded by glory and splendor and left all of that to be born in a dirty manger. The One who had all the power and the angels and principalities at his beck and call had to be swaddled, nursed, and changed. The One who spoke all things into being had to learn to talk. He who dwelt in the throne room of God Almighty was born into a poor family who had to flee a jealous and murderous man.
Why didn’t Jesus arrive in splendor and power? He could have abolished the curse, the law, and Satan with just a word. In becoming lowly, he revealed a greater thing — his love for us. This is the beauty and power in God becoming man. This is where his love is revealed. Jesus walking the path of a human, closed the gap between God and man, bringing reconciliation. His humanity was not one of privilege, glory, or riches, but one of shame. He had no place to lay his head. He was not adored but was despised and rejected. Sin brought shame that separated. Not content with that separation, Jesus entered that shame with us. His companions were those who were sinners, outcasts, broken and hurting, showing us that he is not afraid, offended, or contaminated by our brokenness and dirtiness. He angered those in power and authority, and he gave dignity to those who were thought to have none. He honored the image of God —the image of himself—in those who were not treated like human. He willingly went to the cross — naked and bloody where shame heaped upon him and he gave up his glory.
We do not serve a God who does not understand. We do not worship a Savior who has not suffered. He was traumatized, mocked, rejected, abandoned. He did not run and hide. His suffering does not make our own pain and suffering meaningless, but instead we have a companion in it. We do not have to put our sorrows aside. Jesus weeps with us and offers comfort. We have a friend, and we can trust his friendship because he became like us. Jesus traded glory for shame like Adam and Eve did in their sin and rebellion. And like Adam and Eve, it changes the world forever. While our sin took us from glory to shame, Jesus put on shame so that we have the freedom to take ours off and once again enter glory. Now we can reclaim our identity as image-bearer and reimagine our purpose. We will no longer be the same.
As we heed the call to take up our cross and follow our Savior, we do not walk a path that he has not already been on. The journey is not impossible, as Jesus paved the way. Jesus himself invites back into glory and leads us there. The gap has been closed; there is no longer separation, but unity. There is no longer distance but dwelling with. He became like us and suffered like us so that we can become like him. It is because of this that we can look forward in hope the consummation of our redemption when “’He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer by any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away’” (NASB, Revelation 21:4). Shame into glory. May we rejoice, not only in the cross of Christ, but also in the life he lived, and the glory to come. May we wait in hopeful expectation.
References:
Langberg, D. (2015). Suffering and the Heart of God. New Hope Press.
The Holy Bible, New American Standard Bible. (2020). Bible Gateway
https://www.biblegateway.com/versions/New-American-Standard-Bible-NASB/ (Original work published 1960)