Caution: Radiation

“How did the rose ever open its heart and give to this world all its beauty? It felt the encouragement of light against its being.” —Hafiz, the Great Sufi Master

“...where Tom Holland plays Joseph and Ben Stiller—as Zoolander—plays the angel.”

With Christmas approaching and we begin our annual celebration of Jesus’ birth, there is a lot of weight that goes into the Christmas fever and/or fervor. There's a divorce in the works, angels with messages, wise men with gifts, a manger with God in it, and a plot with the intention to kill every male under the age of two in all the land. There’s a lot of story and I’m not really sure why the Christian entertainment industry hasn’t picked up the plot as a soap opera, where Tom Holland plays Joseph and Ben Stiller—as Zoolander—plays the angel. That would be genius. Outside of this heavenly lineup, a big story lends itself to a lot of aspects to ponder.

So what is it that we can be thinking about this Christmas? 

Some of us, I imagine, will dwell on the text that Immanuel means “God with us, ” and that Jesus is different from the old covenant’s ark in that he is not only God with us, but God as us. We also might question at the radio’s demonic desire to play only Christmas music from Thanksgiving dinner through Christmas day. A few of us will probably stress out about all the gifts we must buy and then wrap, and then once they are bought (if they get bought) our valiant attempts of Pinterest worthy gift wrapping melt into paper bags erupting with tissue paper from the lips. We might—instead of listening to the pastor’s sermon (sorry pastor)—think of how the baby Jesus in most American nativity scenes looks like a little German boy with blonde hair and blue eyes as opposed to an Israeli baby.

Along the lines of the nativity scene and in a very out-field sense of thinking, the manger reminds me of a little ark. You know, like…Noah’s Ark. Noah was this Old Testament messiah figure surrounded by animals while housed in a delivering vessel of wood, and now THE Messiah is delivering man while surrounded by animals, swaddled in a vessel of wood. The message of God’s mercy saturates each story but it’s nice to think that with Noah, God’s way of cleaning the earth was total destruction, but with Jesus, absolution and newness is brought about by the blood and destruction of the Son. It is not the deliverance of the deliverer that leads to life, it is the death of the deliverer. But right now, Christmas is a good time to be thinking on the birth.  

One passage I have been dwelling on this holiday season comes from Hebrews 1:1-3, “Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, who he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world. He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power.”

My recollection of the Christmas narrative involves very little conversation; not many words are spoken, especially not by God. And it is a story only mentioned in two of the gospels. Hebrews guided me to ask two questions in relation to the Christmas story.

Since Jesus is the radiance of the glory of God, the EXACT imprint, how does physical baby Jesus reflect eternal Father God? In other words, how does he radiate—like a microwave—God’s glory from a manger? The second is what does God say with Jesus’ birth? If God speaks to us by his Son, and the birth of Jesus is the first time we see the tangible, glory-radiating Son in the picture, what are the first words being spoken?

“God chose the most humble mode to display the most epic means to define his glory.”

Starting with the prior, how does the physical, helpless, blood and mud covered baby Jesus radiate the glory and word of God? How is THIS Jesus the exact, verbatim imprint of the Father? Often I feel our response is directed toward God’s humility…or hot pockets if you’re stuck on my microwave quip from earlier. Other than humility we might refer to the completed prophesies long awaiting a fulfiller; we might think of the glory displayed in the obedience of various cast in the story (Mary, Joseph, wise men, shepherds); we might dwell on the miracle of the virgin birth; or we might look at the glorious advertising God does with his angels and stars. But how does Jesus, void of the prophesies, people, and miracles, solely display the exact glory of God while chilling in a manger? God chose the most humble mode to display the most epic means to define his glory. Layin’-in-a-manger-flesh-and-bone-baby-Jesus emitted no light, no wisdom, no power…which is why he was the ideal carrier of light, wisdom, and power. The glory is found in the perfect withholding of those things; a flawless balance of the fullness of the infinite inside the venerable finite.

With the ark of the covenant (Covenant Pt. 1), God displayed his presence and glory to people with an untouchable, shiny, golden, eloquent box concealing the ten commandments; a box representing something so holy and unfathomable that one would die if they touched the vessel. With Jesus as a new covenant (Covenant Pt. 2: The Sequel**), the plot is still the same—God with us—but you can touch him now. And everyone loves touching babies. Wise men and shepherd alike could come in contact with God without fear of being struck down.

So what is God saying with this story? I propose a few things here.

Could you imagine the amount of air the pharisees would suck in if they heard that dirty shepherds had touched God? The setting serves as a nice reminder that when Jesus was born there wasn’t a halo; there was blood, umbilical chord, amniotic fluid, and dirt. With this, I think God might be saying that no amount of soot, or venerability, or soil, or weakness, or helplessness can affect the majesty and glory and word of God.

It also seems like God might be saying, “If I come as a baby and not as a dominating king, if I appear weak and helpless in this life and situation, if it looks like what I am doing is covered in dirt and is getting muddy, will you still worship me?” Logicality, strong appearance, and cleanliness are not indications that God is working; the worshipping of his people is.

“Sin-filled-men and sin-filled-men-filled-inns will always say that there is no room. ”

What else is He saying with the setting? There’s a census taking place, so all the inns are full, and thus, impregnated Mary has no place to lay her swollen body. I want us to think about the ridiculousness of the fact that no inn in Bethlehem would make space for a woman in labor. Sure, send Joseph outside to sleep in the barn, but at least let the birthing mother have a seat on the couch. Anyway! The atmosphere of the inn…There is no space in the hotel. It is all booked up. Other than Joseph and Mary should have used travelocity, I believe a big point God is making about his plan via his son is that this world is never going to make room for Jesus. Sin-filled-men and sin-filled-men-filled-inns will always say that there is no room. 

I also feel this “no room” mentality works both ways. We see that no place is too dirty, too informal, or too off the beaten path that God will not go there. So when Jesus enters the place of rejection, there is no room for shame; and for Christians, there becomes no longer any room for us to wander. Sin-filled man says there is no room in the world for Jesus to stay, but Jesus-filled man leaves no room for the world.

Yes, room will be made one day when he returns and every knee, willing or not, will bend to his rule, but pre-return people love walking on their own, ignoring this baby in a manger. The Son of God entered the world with an innkeeper saying there was no room and a king who wanted him dead. What a message.

Lately, one of my favorite pastors—Judah Smith (Judah, if you read this, hit me up!)—has been covering a series about inns. As I listen and read I find more and more that these inns which keep popping up in scripture can be reflections of various attitudes of the church. When Jesus is parableing it up with a man questioning the definition of a neighbor, he tells a story of a half dead man on the side of the road, taken up by a Samaritan, and delivered to an inn that is to take care of him until the Samaritan gentleman returns. This inn is one that reflects a church engaged in healing the broken and dying. The Christmas story inn is one of rejection, not healing. What does our “inn” reflect? Do we turn away those with different appearances, unclean habits, or issues we choose not to deal with, or do we welcome them in? And not the, “Welcome in, it’s good to see you this week” but the “Welcome into my home and daily life” type of welcome

In our hearts, do we house guests that impede the Spirit from moving in? What kind of inn is our church? May we be a church, an inn, that is always filled with the Spirit, but never too full to house those seeking and needing a place to rest.

**soon to be followed by Covenant Part 3: The Return of the Dominating King.