Articles
The Coming of Jesus
Robert Gates, in his book Duty, recounts his first visit as Secretary of Defense to the burn unit at the Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, Texas. He said, “I didn’t think I was strong enough to visit the burn unit” (107) but forced himself to do so out of compassion for those who were suffering some of the worst battle injuries.
He continued, “There are no words to describe their courage. Because Brooke is not in Washington or on a coast, not very many VIPs from any walk of life visit there. The patients would talk about how rarely they got official visitors. After my visit, one Army sergeant told the press that it meant a lot when someone ‘comes here in person.’ He said, ‘I don’t need more medals or money, just someone to say thanks’” (108).
Sometimes there is a profound power in just showing up. Cards, calls and gifts may have their place in the everyday machinery of life, but sometimes the needy suffer in ways that can’t be satisfied from a distance. And this is no more true than in our need for salvation.
The coming of Jesus into the world was not just an academic anomaly or a matter of theological speculation. It was a supreme act of love and compassion on the part of our Savior. He knew that sin created a gap between ourselves and God that was not only judicially impassible but emotionally isolating. Such a chasm is well seen in Peter’s reaction to the Lord at the Sea of Galilee: “he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, ‘Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord!’” (Lk 5:8). Deeply felt guilt causes a conscientious man to recoil from God due to a deep sense of unworthiness. God didn’t just tell us about bridging of that gap; He sent His Son to visit us in our misery, to declare in person that He cares, and ultimately to die as the only balm for our spiritual and emotional wounds.
After the angel clarified to Joseph the details of Mary’s pregnancy, Matthew records: “Now all this was done that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the Lord through the prophet, saying: ‘ Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and bear a Son, and they shall call His name Immanuel,’ which is translated, ‘God with us’” (1:22-23).
The author of Hebrews amplifies this incarnation: “Inasmuch then as the children have partaken of flesh and blood, He Himself likewise shared in the same, that through death He might destroy him who had the power of death, that is, the devil, and release those who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage” (2:14-15). Jesus “partook” of flesh and blood; He didn’t just “resemble” humans or visit us from a protective bubble. He fully participated in the suffering of His creatures, suffering they often bring upon themselves.
Gates also writes in his book of multiple visits to war zones in Iraq where he enjoyed first class accommodations while the troops were living in miserable conditions. But Jesus didn’t opt out: He was born in a stable; His cradle was a feed trough; “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head” (Lk 9:58). He lived down in the dirt with us.
How distressing it must have been for Jesus to actually visit the world He made and that we had trashed. But He knew we needed the healing power of His presence. He put our welfare over His own concerns. May we be encouraged by the thought that Jesus loved us enough to come, that He was not too uppity to walk in our shoes, and that He provided true healing that Bob Gates never could provide for those soldiers at Brooke.
