I’m
nearing the end of a Philip Yancey book that I’ve been reading for some time
now. It’s one of those books that bear pondering, and I’m sure I’ll want to
read it again. It’s called The Jesus I
Never Knew, and in this last chapter, the author addresses the simple yet
profound idea that Jesus came to earth to show us what God is like.
He points
out that we often describe God with words that tell what he isn’t: immortal,
invisible, infinite. In other words, God isn’t mortal; he can’t die. He isn’t
visible; we can’t see him, and he isn’t finite; he has no end. We, on the other
hand, are mortal, visible and finite.
This is
what I’ve been thinking about lately. We have a God who is so very different
from us, superior in every way. Yet God made man in his own image. He wants us
to be like him. In fact, we are exhorted in Ephesians 5 to “be imitators of
God.” How can we ever achieve this standard?
When God
created people, he gave them creativity, compassion, a longing for community,
and he intended Adam and Eve to live in communion with him indefinitely. Their
sin, however, brought death—mortality—to the world. So God’s plan to reveal
himself in Jesus went into motion.
The
immortal, invisible God became visible and lived in a body that could die. He
revealed the love and compassion of his father to a world of sorry sinners such
as you and me. He became sin on the cross so we could regain the eternal life
God meant for people to have. In Jesus, we have freedom to be who God intends
us to be. Our eternal life has already begun, and we can use all the gifts God
gives us to imitate him each day.
There is
so much about life and eternity that seems a mystery. Yancey notes, “When I
speculate about such imponderables as the problem of pain or providence versus
free will, everything becomes fuzzy. But if I look at Jesus himself . . .
clarity is restored.”
In Jesus,
we have both a deep, profound mystery and a simple, understandable directive. Jesus,
“the image of the invisible God” (Colossians 1:15) is our model for godly
living.
--Sherry Poff
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