With each new chapter we study in the Gospel of John, I am struck by John’s consistent depiction of Christ as fully human and yet entirely, incredibly, completely God. He goes to weddings with his friends and family… and then turns water into wine (John 2). He stops at the well in Samaria because he was “tired … from the journey” (John 4:6 NIV)… and then meets a woman whose life will change forever from this meeting. He goes to temple – including the day he heals a man who hasn’t walked in 38 years (John 5) ….
… you get the picture: this human man keeps doing Godly things. It’s amazing! Incredible! Unbelievable!
But Jesus refuses to be made into a trick pony or magician. When he returns to Cana, the people there remembered the pretty cool party trick that he pulled at that wedding and started following him around, eager to see more. Soon enough, a royal official (a celebrity at that time) begs for Jesus to come and heal his dying son. Instead of making a big show of things, Jesus looks at him and says “Go … your son will live” (John 4:50 NIV). And the son lives.
Because he is fully human, Jesus can meet us where we are, wherever we are. Whether we are living a life coveted by others or struggling to survive as we avoid the condemnation of the world, Jesus meets us there.
Because he is also fully God, Jesus changes our lives. Sure, he meets us where we are, but he compels us to make life-altering changes: we simply cannot stay where we are once we recognize who he is – once we believe who he says he is.
This tension reaches its climax at the cross.
Because he is fully human, Jesus dies an incredibly painful, shameful death.
Because he is fully God, Jesus rises triumphant from the grave.
He meets us in our sin and shame to die the death we deserve.
He changes our lives forevermore through his death and resurrection.
The Son of Man, the Lamb of God, turns our choice to slaughter our savior into a sacrifice for our redemption.
So don’t be afraid if you don’t measure up. None of us do. None of us will.
But Jesus did. And for that, our lives cannot… will not … should not be the same.
- Katherine Ey