Christ Crossed the Infinite Distance!
Merry Christmas to You and Yours!
Luke 2:13–14 Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”
Glory to God in the highest heaven! Astronomers tell us that that the diameter of the Milky Way is 105,700 light years. In other words, traveling at 100x the speed of light, it would take us over 1,000 years to cross the galaxy end-to-end. It is estimated that there are between 200 billion and 2 trillion galaxies in the “observable” universe. And these galaxies are separated by tens of millions of lightyears. Even in that “highest heaven” God is glorified because he is one who fills the whole Universe (Ephesians 4:10). Fancy words like omnipotent, omniscient, and omni-present poorly communicate the vastness of God.
This God hung the stars like Christmas lights and molded the Milky Way like he was toying with playdough. The Universe—the nebulas, the stars, the planets, the oceans, the whales, the penguins, the atoms—it’s all his sandbox! It’s all in his hands.
And on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests. On earth. While God fills the Universe, we are tiny specks on a tiny globe in a tiny corner of one massive arm of the Milky Way.
When our son was about 4 years old, we put him in charge of the digital camera at a family wedding. Christine and I always forget to document events; so, we gave our toddler the responsibility. Besides, it kept him out of trouble. He loved any kind of technology, so we just showed him how to click the button and off he ran. Honestly, he wasn't a bad little photographer.
But when you peruse those pictures now, you immediately sense that something is a bit off. At first, you can’t place it; but then it dawns on you: the camera angle is wonky. There are an excessive number of nostrils and armpits in the pictures. Why? He was not yet even tall enough for admittance on the wimpiest roller coaster. So, every photo was snapped from Lilliput peering up at giants.
Now, imagine us earthly human beings, like itty-bitty ants trying to get a snapshot of God in the highest heavens, in all his glory, power, justice, etc. God is so far above us that, if he had nostrils, it’s all we would see in our pictures of him. Or, worse yet, nothing but the bottom of his holy boot threatening to crush us. The gap between God and mankind is immeasurable. He is set infinitely apart from every creature in every category. That’s why the Psalmist wrote, “Who is mankind that you are mindful of them?” (Psalm 8:4)
Sometimes, people imagine they can somehow span the distance between earth and heaven with a couple of trips to church, a handful of prayers, or a few charitable donations before the end of the fiscal year. But why should an infinite God even notice the self-righteous chest-thumping of microscopic mites?
That’s not the end of it. God is perfectly holy, kind, and just—flawless in every way; we are the opposite by nature. We like to think we’re essentially good people. Like every single Marvel movie, we start out believing that humanity is a hopeless mess, but by the final act we realize there are only a few bad eggs; the rest of us are pretty decent chaps; I mean, nobody’s perfect, but we’re all doing our best.
However, we aren’t so lofty as we imagine—at least not from God’s perspective. We, the once spiritual giants who hiked in Eden with Him, now shattered little Humpty Dumpties. As Psalm 14:3 says, “All have turned away, all have become corrupt; there is no one who does good, not even one.” How the mighty have fallen to the dregs of the earth.
Christians should understand this better than anyone...should. We know the doctrine of total depravity…in theory. We know that we are no better than anyone else we pass on our daily commute…in concept.
But, by nature, we also diminish God and enhance ourselves. Sometimes, he’s “the Man Upstairs”, our personal assistant, the cosmic candy machine who is loved and worshiped to the degree that he performs to our playground standards. We expect him to bless us because “at least we don’t ________ like some other people we know.” “At least I don’t gossip; at least I’m not a cheapskate; at least I’m not a republican or democrat; at least I’m doing something useful with my time.” We’re judging people by the standards that are easy for us to keep (hard working, for example) while ignoring or dismissing the others that we fall short of (concern for the poor, for example). The infinite gap grows wider still.
We might expect God to distance himself from us even more. And yet…the angels sang: “on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” Literally, “the people of his good pleasure.” Listen to that! “God’s good pleasure.” For microscopic fallen mites.
And how does he express his good pleasure? By bridging the infinite gap between us. Thirteen-year old Cindy Barbeau was singing Ed Sheeran’s song “Thinking Out Loud” at a charity fund raiser in a Canadian mall. Ed happened to be at the same mall that day, so he ran up on stage and joined her. Cindy said it was the best moment of her life. One the most famous professionals of our time humbled himself to sing a duet with an average teenager.
But that’s nothing compared to the distance God spanned to be with us. The highest of Kings comes in the humblest form in the lowliest of places. The uncontainable in five or six pounds of tender baby skin. Fingers that flung planets across the cosmos now helplessly grasping at bits of straw. And a belly-button—God with a belly button! God is infinitely humbled; we are “highly favored,” (Luke 1:28) honored that God would join our human race. God bridges the infinite gap.
And he throws himself fully into it. Isaiah quotes him in prophecy:
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair…” (Isaiah 61:1–3a).
Throughout his ministry, Jesus embraced the lowest of the low. It’s how you know: the infinite God cares deeply about your depression; he mourns besides you in the miscarriage; he daily bears what you cannot bear. He is above and below you, to your left and right, before and behind you as one who gets you.
But then, he went lower than the lowest. It’s nearly impossible for modern people to comprehend the debilitating shame of being nailed naked to a cross along a public highway. It makes the worst social-media shaming feel like a mosquito bite by comparison. The agony is unimaginable; and that agony belonged to the infinite God.
But then he goes lower. There on that cross, he becomes the hypocritical church goer, the grumbler, the abuser, the pervert, the drug addict, the murderer…all of them—all of us—all at once as our substitute. Our shame belongs to the infinite God. All his beauty and purity exchanged for the filth of the world. And he dies—the infinite and exalted God for finite and fallen people.
Then, in his resurrection and ascension, we are lifted up to highest heaven, kings and queens, blessed to experience his eternal joy and presence with us. God descends again to live in us by his Holy Spirit. God comes to purify us with water and promise. God comes to feed us in simple bread and wine. God comes to carry us home to the highest heaven.
So, this Christmas, as the Brits say, “mind the gap”—humbly acknowledge the natural, infinite distance between us and a holy God—but then rejoice that Christ has bridged it for us. That’s what Christmas is all about.
Check out a song that just nails it: Glory in the Darkest Place by Sovereign Grace.