Skip to main content

Jesus came to earth... to reflect God to us




Do you remember playing with a magnifying glass on a sunny day?  That curved piece of glass you held in your hand captured the scattered rays, narrowing them down to a fluttering patch of brightness.  And all the light’s power was held in that one small circle, shrinking and shrinking… until finally you were rewarded with a sudden curl of smoke, and a neat charred hole.

Imagine, then, that God, seeking to reveal himself on earth, condensed his essential being through some kind of celestial magnifying glass.  That wavering point became smaller and smaller, losing none of its power… until it became the exact size of a human baby, growing in a womb.

Jesus is the image of the invisible God, says the verse in Colossians, the perfect reflection of God’s glory.  This is the first and greatest reason that Jesus came: to show us what God is really like.  Yet sometimes, reflected and refracted through 2000 years of history, the image that Jesus shows us seems as blurred as any other.  How do we see it clearly again?

Start by taking one step backwards.  Jesus’ reflection of God is not just about the Sermon on the Mount.  Not just about the people he healed.  Not just his final words on the cross.  If we’re not careful, we can lose ourselves in analysing the detail.  And like an Impressionist painting, the picture dissolves into dots of unrelated colour.  But when we step back and realise that Jesus was God, all of him, and his whole life was dedicated to doing the will of the Father, then we start to see some larger patterns.  His life, death, resurrection and glory all form one extravagant sweep that leads our eye towards God.

And now take three steps forward again.  This is not a picture you can view from a safe distance.  This is a person who demands that you get involved.  The New Testament is full of references to sharing with Christ; we share his sufferings, his death, his resurrection and his reign.  As he shared his humanity with us, so we, gradually, can come to share his God-likeness with him.  The communion table, where we share his body and blood for ourselves and with others, is a beautiful reminder.  The love of God was shown through Jesus, John tells us, and it is only through sharing with love that he can be fully known.

And this Advent, find a magnifying glass and give yourself some time to remember the unwavering light of God, shining from a point just the size of a newborn baby, lying in a manger.  All the light’s power, held in that one small life… and more than enough to kindle a flame.

Photo attribution: By shakko (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Comments

Anonymous said…
Hi, one of my friend is doing an advent devotion on her blog and linked it to yours. I liked this post very much. Even though I never playeyed with the magnifying glass I can picture it. I will be looking forward to more Advent Sunday's. Cherry
Martha said…
Glad you liked it, Cherry! Can I ask which blog you found it from?

Popular posts from this blog

Three Mile an Hour God: Spiritual Formation Book 10

"The affirmed life must not become either a lazy life or a happy-ever-after, easy life. The affirmed life is not a life of the power of positive thinking. To be affirmed by God means to live with danger and promise."   Kosuke Koyama's book Three Mile an Hour God was written out of the experience of the Second World War and its aftermath in Japan. As Koyama says in his preface, it is "a collection of biblical reflections by one who is seeking the source of healing from the wounds... inflicted by the destructive power of idolatry." The title speaks of a God who moves at walking pace - three miles an hour - and even, in Jesus, comes to a "full stop" - nailed to a cross. If we try to move faster than the love of God, says Koyama, we fall into idolatry. What is the book about? Three Mile an Hour God has 45 chapters, each a separate short reflection headed by a Bible verse. Some deal specifically with Japan, considering her role in WWII, the damage inflicte

National Forest Way: Ellistown, Bagworth, Nailstone

You may well say, "Where?" I'd never heard of any of these three villages before I planned to walk through them. Back in the 1970s, it would have been possible to travel between them underground. All three had collieries producing exceptional amounts of coal (Bagworth set a Guinness World Record). Nailstone and Bagworth collieries were connected in 1967, and Ellistown was merged with the other two in 1971. All the mines are long closed now. The railway lines have been taken up, the winding wheels turned into civic sculptures, and the pit sites transformed into country parks. It was a beautiful sunny day, but we'd had a lot of rain recently. Within five minutes of leaving Ellistown, I was glad I'd worn my wellies.   The way took me alongside a quarry site and then into a collection of woods: Common Hill Wood, Workmans Wood, Battram Wood. The colours of the trees in the November sunshine were beautiful. The path was a muddy mess. At Battram village I crossed a newly

National Forest Way: Normanton le Heath to Ellistown

This 9-mile walk took me through the Queen Elizabeth Jubilee Woods and Sence Valley Forest Park, and into the heavily-quarried countryside south of Coalville (no prizes for guessing what was mined there!) I originally planned to walk from Normanton le Heath to Donington le Heath, which had a pleasing symmetry. But I decided to go a bit further, to the hamlet of Ellistown.   It was a cold morning. I'd been in shorts the previous weekend, but today there was a frost. I added a flask of coffee, a scarf and gloves to my kit, and set off. For a small village, Normanton le Heath has a surprisingly wide road. I parked there rather than using the car park for the Jubilee Woods. That meant I was at my starting point straight away. I followed a road past some rather nice houses, crossed a field, and entered the Queen Elizabeth Jubilee Woods. The NFW leaflet told me that I was on the route of the Via Devana, a Roman road from Colchester to Chester. There isn't much left of it. a mosaic,