That You May Believe

Devotion

“Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book; but these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.”

— John 20:30–31

I feel so strongly that among those of us who have grown up in church and who can recite the great doctrines of our faith in our sleep, and yet who can yawn through the Apostles’ Creed — that among us something must be done to help us once more feel the awe, the fear, the astonishment, the wonder of the Son of God, begotten by the Father from all eternity, reflecting all the glory of God, being the very image of his person, through whom all things were created, upholding the universe by the word of his power.

You can read every fairy tale that was ever written, every mystery thriller, every ghost story, and you will never find anything so shocking, so strange, so weird and spellbinding as the story of the incarnation of the Son of God.

How dead we are! How callous and unfeeling to your glory and your story, O God! How often have I had to repent and say, “God, I am sorry that the stories men have made up stir my emotions, my awe and wonder and admiration and joy, more than your own true story.”

Perhaps the galactic movie thrillers of our day can do at least this good for us: they can humble us and bring us to repentance, by showing us that we really are capable of some of the wonder and awe and amazement that we so seldom feel when we contemplate the eternal God and the cosmic glory of Christ and a real living contact between them and us in Jesus of Nazareth.

When Jesus said, “For this purpose I have come into the world” (John 18:37), he said something as crazy and weird and strange and eerie as any statement in science fiction that you have ever read.

Oh, how I pray for a breaking forth of the Spirit of God upon me and upon you; for the Holy Spirit to break into my experience in a frightening way, to wake me up to the unimaginable reality of God.

One of these days lightning is going to fill the sky from the rising of the sun to its setting, and there is going to appear in the clouds the Son of Man with his mighty angels in flaming fire. And we will see him clearly. And whether from terror or sheer excitement, we will tremble and we will wonder how we ever lived so long with such a domesticated, harmless Christ.

These things are written — the whole Bible is written — that we might believe — that we might be stunned and awakened to the wonder — that Jesus Christ is the Son of God who came into the world.

©Desiring God That You May Believe | Desiring God

Prayer

“The time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.”

— Luke 2:6-7

Lord Jesus, your birthing experience often wrongly gets turned into an opportunity to shame an inhospitable inn-keeper—who isn’t mentioned anywhere in the Bible. Or it’s used as a moral imperative, urging us to make room in our hearts for you.

But we don’t make room for you, Lord Jesus. You make room for us. From (your) fullness we have all received, grace upon grace (John 1:16). Indeed, as Paul stated, you are the one who “fills all things everywhere”(Eph. 1:23). The Gospel is your glorious, grace-full welcome to us… Hallelujah!

But, perhaps, this is the year to draw encouragement from the less-than-ideal circumstances of your birth. Today, my own state of Tennessee begins a 30-day stay-at-home admonition from our Governor. My dear friends in the UK are presently under much greater COVID-stress and restrictions.

Here’s our prayer, Lord Jesus. You specialize in broken stories, messy situations, and giving “grace for the moment” (Heb. 4:16). Of course, we long for the day of no-more-virus; even more so, the Day of your return. Until both, grant us grace to live and love to your glory. Wisdom, safety, and neighbor-love are the order of this day.

Jesus, you also specialize in redemptive surprises, and doing beyond all we can ask or imagine. In ways, perhaps we can’t imagine, make this Christmas one of the most treasured ones, ever—a feast of grace, a celebration of kindness, creative loving for each other; not just daily, but moment by moment mercy. VERY amen, we pray, in your tender and triumphant name.