Show Don't Tell: John 1:14

Imagine a chilly evening in a small, bustling village, where the aroma of freshly baked bread mingles with the earthy scent of rain-soaked earth. As the sun dips below the horizon, a humble carpenter named Joseph stands in the doorway of his modest home, glancing down the cobblestone street. His heart is heavy, not just with the weight of his work but with the profound mystery unfolding in his life. He waits for his beloved Mary, who carries within her the most astonishing news—a child, conceived not by man but by the Holy Spirit.

In that moment, let’s feel the scandal of the flesh. The eternal Logos—the divine Word—did not merely float down from the heavens, draped in celestial robes. No, He became flesh. Picture it: the very essence of God, the Creator of galaxies, now transformed into a fragile newborn, grasping at his mother’s finger with tiny, clenched fists. This child experiences hunger, cries when he is wet, and feels skin prickling with the cold. He is wrapped not in silver or gold but in swaddling cloth, nestled in the most ordinary of places—a humble manger surrounded by the scent of hay and the gentle lowing of cattle.

When John tells us that “He made his dwelling among us,” he isn’t using lofty language; he speaks of a God who pitched His tent right here in the messiness of life. The glory of God, once veiled in the thick clouds of Sinai, now walks on two feet in the dusty streets of Nazareth. “We have seen his glory,” John proclaims, not as a distant observer but as a participant who felt the warmth of His presence and witnessed the kindness in His eyes. In that child, grace and truth are not just concepts; they are tangible, wrapped in flesh and blood, inviting us into a story where heaven and earth collide, where the divine touches the human in the most intimate of ways. This is the scandalous beauty of our God—fully human, yet fully divine.