The greatest of mysteries:

When I was a student, I read an article about a psycholo­gist, Dr. Fernando Braga da Costa, who went into the field to conduct his research on “public invisibility.” He found that people who sweep the streets are generally “unseen” by others. Ignored, they do not receive good morning or good afternoon wishes or any signs of kindness. To familiarize himself with their reality and experience their challenges firsthand, he obtained a job as a street sweeper on campus for about 10 years, in a study that became his master’s thesis and doctoral dissertation. Fernando recounts how interesting it was to observe that the professors who would hug him in the university corridors later did not recognize him when he wore a cap and red overalls and carried a broom. They did not recognize him simply because they did not look at him.¹ When I read the account for the first time, I immediately associated it with another very similar story of Someone who, to identify with humans and save them, became one of them, one with them.

The incarnation of Christ is fascinating and mysterious. One of the definitions of mystery is “something inexplicable or beyond human comprehension,”² something that reason is unable to penetrate or encompass. The Bible calls the incarnation of Jesus “the mystery of godliness” (eusebeias mystērion; 1 Tim. 3:16, NKJV). It challenges our imagination. The most incredible thing is not that man walked on the moon but that God walked on the earth.³

The incarnation defies normal logic. It is somewhat unsettling to think that the divine hand that healed lepers had dirt under its fingernails and that the feet on which the sinful woman wept were calloused and dusty.⁴ The mystery of the incarnation is paradoxical, filled with seemingly contradictory aspects. The Almighty became a helpless child. The Owner of everything had nothing, not even a place to lay His head (Matt. 8:20). He was the Creator of the worlds, yet a stranger in the world He created. Though He was rich, He became poor for our sake (2 Cor. 8:9). At His birth, there was light at midnight, and when He died, there was darkness at noon.⁵

The bridge between heaven
and earth

In 1 Timothy 3:16, Paul summarizes the incarnation of Christ in the form of a poem. Many scholars believe that the apostle was quoting a well-known hymn of the early church.⁶

God was manifested in the flesh,
Justified in the Spirit,
Seen by angels,
Preached among the Gentiles,
Believed on in the world,
Received up in glory (NKJV).

A superficial reading of the passage may not reveal much beyond a beautiful stanza quoted by Paul. However, much more is hidden in this small text than one might imagine. Paul writes using a technique quite common in biblical poetry called a chiasmus. A chiasmus is a rhetorical device that arranges ideas in a crisscross pattern, similar to an X, or the Greek letter chi (hence the name chiasmus). To understand it better, let’s do this: After placing each line side by side, we will put an “A” next to the line or verse whenever Paul speaks of earthly things. Each time Paul refers to heavenly things, we will place a “B.”

If we connect the same categories, the information contained in each verse intersects.

The poem alternates between opposing ideas. “Flesh” contrasts with “Spirit,” “angels” with “Gentiles” (humans, non-Jews), and “world” opposes “glory.”⁷ The interesting thing is that while the ideas are in opposition, they also intersect, and the element that connects them is the theme of the stanza: the mystery of godliness, that is, the incarnation of Christ. Through the incarnation, heaven and earth, once in opposition because of sin, are now united. The celestial is connected to the earthly and the divine to the human. Christ incarnate is the bridge over the abyss, the ladder of Jacob’s dream (Gen. 28:10–17).

Descending to the lowest level

Another impressive text about the incarnation is Philippians 2:5–11: “Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, He humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (ESV).

Sometimes called “the psalm/hymn of Christ,” this beautiful passage outlines Jesus’ journey from heaven to the cross. The ideas expressed are arranged in a very interesting sequence. To illustrate, let’s imagine a three-story building.

Imagine the top floor as Christ’s preincarnation, that is, His state of glory before coming to earth. Then, imagine the middle floor as the incarnation, the period when Jesus was here and lived among us. According to Paul, on each floor, Christ descended three steps. “Though He was in the form of God,” Jesus (1) “emptied Himself,” (2) took the form of a servant (doulos in Greek, which can also be translated as “slave”), and (3) was born in the likeness of men. Thus, Jesus moved from the upper floor to the middle one, that is, the incarnation. Then, Christ descends three more steps. “Being found in human form,” He (1) “humbled Himself,” (2) became “obedient to the point of death,” and (3) submitted to “death on a cross.”⁸

Christ descended to the lowest rung on the ladder of humiliation. The eternal God not only emptied Himself (of His glory and privileges) but also became a man—and not just a human being but a slave, and a dead slave at that, disgraced by crucifixion, the most despicable of deaths in His time, a fate reserved for criminals. Christ descended into the mud of human misery where we were. He came down to our level to then raise us to His.

However, the text in Philippians does not end there. Starting in verse 9, the scene reverses, and Paul outlines a radical change in the path. After descending to the lowest level, to death on the cross, Christ is exalted to the most elevated position, becoming Lord over everything and everyone.

A stranger on His own property

Still another text inspires me when I think about the incarnation of Jesus: Matthew 8:20. The Lord said, “ ‘Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head’ ” (ESV).

It is the first of more than 80 times that the title “Son of Man” (with or without the article in Greek) appears in the New Testament. Here, Jesus, the One who upholds the world by His power (Heb. 1:3), appears as a homeless stranger in the very world He created. The passage depicts the owner of everything as having less advantage than irrational beings. Stripped of any temporal goods, Jesus’ life began in a borrowed stable, passed through a cross that was not His, and ended in a tomb that belonged to someone else.

Yet the scene changes again when we read the last time we find the title “Son of Man” in the New Testament. In Revelation 14:14, Christ sits on a white cloud with a golden crown on His head and a sharp sickle in His hand. What a contrast! The One who, in His first coming, was a homeless stranger now returns as the King of kings, and the same head that had no place to rest now bears a crown of victory (stephanos), a symbol of honor and authority.⁹

Indeed, we can affirm that “the humanity of the Son of God is everything to us. It is the golden chain that binds our souls to Christ and, through Christ, to God. This is to be our study.”¹⁰

In contemplating the incarnation of Christ in humanity, we stand baffled before an unfathomable mystery, that the human mind cannot comprehend. The more we reflect upon it, the more amazing does it appear. How wide is the contrast between the divinity of Christ and the helpless infant in Bethlehem’s manger! How can we span the distance between the mighty God and a helpless child? And yet the Creator of worlds, he in whom was the fulness of the Godhead bodily, was manifest in the helpless babe in the manger. Far higher than any of the angels, equal with the Father in dignity and glory, and yet wearing the garb of humanity! Divinity and humanity were mysteriously combined, and man and God became one. It is in this union that we find the hope of our fallen race.¹¹

Here is “the mystery of redeeming love, . . . the theme into which ‘angels desire to look,’ and it will be their study throughout endless ages.”¹²

Conclusion

In the incarnate Christ, the transcendent God became immanent. In the humble Man of Nazareth, we can touch the Untouchable and see the Invisible. The incarnation of Jesus stands as the central axis of human history, around which the entire tapestry of redemption is woven. Moreover, the incarnation marks the pinnacle of God’s revelation to humankind. Through the humanity of the Son, we glimpse the true nature of the Father (John 14:9; Heb. 1:1, 2), unclouded by the distortions of Satan and sin.

Contemplating the incarnation of Christ is more than a mere admiration of the poetic majesty of God becoming man or the deep theological and philosophical significance of a matchless event. To meditate upon the incarnation is to immerse ourselves in the very heart of our existence, the essence of our salvation. This sublime theme should envelop our thoughts, shape our worldview, and inspire our every action.