And the Word Became Flesh

Rough, calloused hands slowly smoothed the edges of a graying beard as the aged fisherman stared into the distance. Visions of the life he had lived made their way through his mind as he contemplated what needed to be written. Even now, he could feel the rocking of the boat, and the spray from the sea when, as a young man, he threw the nets over the side. Just as all those generations before him, his future and living lay beneath the blue waters of the sea of Galilee. And, with that, the man named John would have been content, for he would have known nothing else.

How vividly he remembered the day he sat in his father's boat going through the tedious motions of repairing weathered nets. A shout from the shore drew his attention from his work. What was it about the man who called that caused the fisherman to lay the torn net in the bow and draw the boat to shore? What was it in the words, "Follow me," that made him leave the only livelihood he had ever known to follow the man with the gentle smile, and compassion filled eyes"

Unsure as to whether he would be able to put into words what it was about this man that had caused him to turn from the sea and his nets, John pondered what to write as he continued to gaze at the horizon. Finally, realizing that there were no adequate words to describe the nature of the man who had called from the shore all those years before, the uneducated man of the sea began to write.

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God...."

"...And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we saw his glory, glory as of the only begotten from the father, full of grace and truth."

Profoundly deep. Poetically beautiful. Utterly astonishing. All from the hand of the fisherman with no formal education who heard the words, "Follow me," and followed. As profound....and beautiful....and astonishing as John's words are, they still cannot capture the glorious magnitude of the Logos of God taking on the flesh of man. God had walked in the Garden of Eden with Adam, he had pitched a tent with the people of Israel, but now he had taken on the actual form of the most precious of his creation. God had become one of us.

"....And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us..."

People have struggled, trying to wrap human minds around the concept of these words ever since a virgin gave birth to the child who would reconcile the Creator and his creation. The shepherds wondered at the words of the angels announcing the birth of the Messiah. The magi steadfastly followed a star pointing them toward the child, and humbly knelt before him wondering about the meaning of his birth. Herod's wonder became an obsession resulting in the death of every child in Israel who was under the age of two.

"...And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us..." The words penned by John, the fisherman turned disciple, have been a challenge to every person of every generation who has heard the name. Who was that child? What was so special about the man he became?

As one of those people, in a much removed generation, I have been challenged by the wonder of the man who claimed to be God. I know that he always was....that he is....and that he always will be. I certainly don't understand it, but I know it. What I do understand, however, is who this, "Word that became flesh," has become to me and, perhaps more importantly, who he is to me at this moment.

Manna was amazing stuff. For the people of Israel, wandering through a barren wilderness, it was their sustenance. Manna would become to them whatever they needed. When they needed protein, it became protein. When they needed carbohydrates, it became carbohydrates. When they needed vitamins, it became vitamins. God's people, working their way to the promised land, saw this white wafer like substance, which became to them whatever they needed on their journey and said, "Manna," which is basically the Hebrew word for, "What in the world is it."

"...The Word became flesh and dwelt among us," and the world says, "Manna....What in the world is it." Christ would later tell his disciples that he was the true bread that comes down from heaven....that he was the true heavenly manna. And that is exactly who I have found him to be. I consider him...I look at him, and contemplate the awesomeness of the Logos of God walking, breathing and living in a body like mine and I say, "Manna....What in the world is it?" It is certainly more than anything my mind can begin to absorb or even vaguely comprehend.

But then I walk with him, I fellowship with him and I begin to get a taste of the heavenly manna the Father placed in that manger over two thousand years ago. As I wander through the wilderness, making my way toward the promised land, I find that this manna becomes exactly what I need for each step of the journey. When I need peace, it becomes peace. When I need joy, it becomes joy. When I am without hope, it gives me hope. When I lose my direction, it points me toward home. And, with each taste I find an abundance of grace... and mercy...and forgiveness. When I break myself, this manna fixes me. It is everything I need to sustain me on the journey.

Christmas is as profound...and beautiful...and as astonishing as the old fisherman put into words. But it is also as simple as a Creator coming to his creation and saying, "You're broken, and I'm going to fix you." It's what this Word that became flesh does...and he does it perfectly...he fixes broken people.

The Journey

Jacob slowly made his way toward the mountain. He was, with a certainty, a much older man than when the journey began over six decades ago. One could see it in his graying hair, his weakening body and the wrinkles beginning to show on the landscape of his face. Some were wrinkles of laughter, to be sure. Others, wrinkles of worry, as well as wrinkles of anguish and torment. There had been wonderful times sprinkled with times flowing with tears of disillusionment, but still Jacob walked toward the mountain he could not yet see. He walked more languidly than at first, but his goal was determinedly set in his heart.

Indeed, the destination was not the mountain, but what lay beyond the mountain. Jacob was not sure what was beyond the coming cliffs, but he knew that it was the destination the for which the journey was preparing him. Although he had a sense of what was on the other side, his mind could not begin to envision it. He knew that he would see the face of glory, but the shape that face would take was far beyond his comprehension. He trusted that arms of grace and mercy would carry him up the mountain just as they had guided his decades long journey, but the form of the arms could not be imagined. On the other side of the mountain, Jacob knew that he would be bathed in holiness and showered with righteousness, but he had little idea as to what holiness and righteousness truly looked like, or the feeling that would accompany the immersion.

When he crossed the majestic peaks, he knew that he would finally be home, but what being home would mean to him was shrouded in mystery which his mind could not unravel. Throughout his travels, Jacob had found resting places, and several of these places had indeed felt comfortable...he had felt contentment, and certainly had been happy.....but something within him would never allow him to mistake these places for home. Jacob knew with a certainty that waiting in that home was a Father and a Brother he had always known, but had never seen. How he knew, Jacob did not know, but he knew it none-the-less. It was, perhaps, the desire to be at home with the family he had never seen that had compelled him on the journey.

The man, Jacob, understood that he would be called by another name on the other side, and it was for the best, for he had tired of the burden of being Jacob. The name had served him well as he traveled. Jacob had carried it with pride, almost to a fault. But now he longed to hear the sound of the name that would define him in his new home. He also knew the body that had carried him all these miles would be replaced and, with each year, he understood the necessity. The strength that had flowed from him at the start was draining. The eyes were dimming and the legs less stable. The mind, once so focused, seemed cloudy and distant at times. A new body was going to be crucial.

And so Jacob walked, longing for what lay beyond the mountain, yet not looking forward to the climb. Directed by a constant inner drive, step by step, he made his way toward a yet unrealized goal. With more years behind him than ahead, Jacob realized that the colors around him were losing their brilliance, and the faces of fellow sojourners were becoming more blurred as his focus on the destination sharpened.

Jacob walked with memories as his constant companion. Memories of times when his stride had been long and powerful, as well as times when he had stumbled and fallen. He remembered the determination and purpose in the early years of the journey, but he also remembered, with regret, the distractions that had waylaid him and took his attention from the goal. He remembered the pits he had fallen into, and the struggles climbing out.

Thankfully, with the passing of years, even Jacobs regrets and disappointments became a source of joy to him as he walked, for he began to see them for what they really were...part of the journey. And so he walked with confidence, remembering the unseen pull that had become his compass and always pointed him toward the utter brilliance he was convinced lay beyond the mountain. He walked with thankfulness, remembering the magnificent strength that had carried him up the walls of the pits and valleys that had encompassed him. With each year, as he walked he became less aware of the steps, less mindful of his surroundings and more focused on his destination.

And, then he was there. After seeking and longing for it all these decades, the mountain appeared as if from nowhere, the most daunting spectacle he had ever seen. Jacob woke up earlier than normal on that morning, and began to walk. It was similar to any morning of any day of the past sixty years. The scenery was similar. The thoughts and feelings were much the same. Nothing foreboding was on the horizon. Midway through the morning things changed. Jacob felt an unfamiliar strangeness slowly overtake his body. His legs stubbornly refused to support him as he slowly crumpled to the ground. It was time, you see. Jacob had walked the steps demanded by the journey, and as he stared in awe, the massive mountain rose before him.

Jacob felt an array of emotions. Fear and anxiety gently tempered with excitement and a strange peacefulness. The magnitude of the mountain spawned the fear and anxiety, while the thought of what he was convinced awaited him beyond the peaks gave rise to the excitement and peace. Intuitively, from a place deep within, he knew that every step of the journey had merely been preparation for this moment. The memories that surrounded Jacob as he traveled were gone now, for his entire being was focused on the mountain. The blurred images of his fellow sojourners had faded into the back round, and Jacob felt strangely alone at the foot of the mountain. He could not turn to the right or to the left. There was no way of turning back. The mountain was his destiny. What lay beyond was his prize.

Even with his first step up the slope, unseen, yet strangely familiar, arms seemed to embrace him. As the body, which had been his pride, grew annoyingly weak with the climb, the force that had compelled him on the journey....the same force that had carried him out of valleys and dragged him out of pits....grew stronger within him as he made his way up the side. As Jacob's breaths came more slowly the impalpable arms held him more tightly, and the force seemed to lift him from the ground.

As Jacob neared the peak, his arms were useless, his legs seemed not to respond, and yet he was moving toward the ridge. Stubborn muscles in his chest contracted, pulling in much needed air. For the first time during the climb, Jacob looked back. The blurred faces of those closest to him through his journey came clearly into focus, tears streaming down their cheeks. Jacob looked past the faces and saw, with a mixture of joy and regret, the trail he had traveled to the foot of the mountain.

With amazement, Jacob saw the invisible arms that carried him take a visible form. Scarred hands reached back, touching the path, and the rough places became smooth, the valleys became level, mucky pits were filled and the broken road was made whole. In the same movement, the hands touched the faces of those Jacob loved, lingered on each one, and compassionately wiped away every tear.

Knowing the next breath would never come, Jacob smiled and slowly released the one that carried him to the peak. In that instant, Jacob understood the necessity of every step he had taken. The valleys and pits had given him a taste of the grace and mercy that how enveloped him. The beauty of the journey had been a mere glimpse of the never ending glory flowing from every direction in his new surroundings.

In an unfathomable way, Jacob knew that he filled a void in this new place and yet, at the same time, everything in the place filled him. There was, indeed, a moment...although moments no longer seemed to exist...where Jacob felt a little out of place. But that moment was filled with the form of a man bearing the same scarred hands that had touched the trail of his journey. The glory of the place flowed from this man....it flowed through him, and the glory of the place and the man seemed as one.

The face was truly the face of glory. Jacob was drawn immediately to the eyes, and trembled as they pierced areas of Jacob's being that he never knew existed. The trembling lasted for an instant. In the next, he saw a love that he could not comprehend, only experience, radiating from the man's eyes. From those same eyes compassion...and peace....and joy....flowed through Jacob, each of them touching him in a different way.

The man stepped toward Jacob, cupped his face with his scarred hands and, with a gentle smile on his lips, whispered into Jacob's ear. You see, it was his new name. Jacob was no longer Jacob, and he was overwhelmed with peace. Never again would he be defined by what he had been, for the new named told him who he was in his new home. For Jacob, contentment was no longer some elusive, fleeting thing to continually strive after. And, more importantly, life was no longer something he had lived...it was something he was beginning to experience.