I’ve just begun reading the book of Revelation as part of my morning devotions. This is the book, perhaps above any other book in Scripture, where we see the holiness, the majesty, the utter God-ness of Jesus. He centrally figures above all else — high above all else — in that narrative. All else in existence falls at his feet and worships him. 

He is truly the highest height of all awareness and existence, and Revelation demonstrates that reality with such clarity for us.

With the start of the Advent season just over a week ago, we are invited to notice an interesting contrast here. These four weeks leading to Christmas are a time of preparation and expectation, a time when we think about the coming of Jesus into the world as a babe on Christmas and as the savior of the world, while also looking ahead — and continuing to prepare ourselves — for his return.

Revelation depicts with such rich imagery that second return of Jesus into the world. There, we will see the fullness of his majesty and reign. We will see how truly great he is. We will see him as the ruler and origination of all that exists in creation.

But this morning, it is the humility of Jesus in his first coming that I’m reminded of. 

On a particular night, at a particular time, in a particular place, and in a particular body, Jesus became human. He became human — just like us. And he chose to start at the beginning, as a baby — just like we do.

What is that about?

Why would the highest crown of all existence become enfleshed in human form — and in the form of a baby, no less? Why would he choose to develop in a body the same way all of us must develop in our own bodies, one limb after another growing into itself with each passing year? Why would he choose to learn a language from its first stammers and stutters, just as all of us must learn our own languages from the start? Why would he let go of all the knowledge of all existence that he holds inside himself, only to start from scratch in knowing nothing, building one structure of thought and knowledge on top of itself, just like we must do?

It was — and is — for love of us. His love for us created a willing humility.

We will continue to reflect on that love in the continuation of this series. I hope you’ll continue to join us.