Five Things I Dig About Jesus

He emptied himself of his glory for me. Before becoming a man, this second person of the Godhead, however glorious he was, created stars that are billions of miles wide, Saturn’s unique rings and moons, galaxies that stretch well beyond my imagination, and dogs and birds and cats and squirrels that all have their own personalities and idiosyncrasies. Yet possessing so much glory, so much majesty, he stepped down to become a man, even a baby born in a filthy manger, to save my soul when I didn’t even know him.

He didn’t shrink back. In the wilderness after he had fasted for forty days and forty nights and the devil came to tempt him, he didn’t give in to those beguiling temptations. He stood strong in his mission. When he stood before Pilate and could have called down 12 legions of angels, he kept silent as a Lamb led to slaughter. In the garden of Gethsemane, he saw the terror of becoming sin on the cross, dying apart from the Father. He was so terrorized by this that the capillaries burst under his skin and he literally sweated blood. But when he knew there was no other way to save me, he didn’t shrink back.

He was so singleminded about the Father and the Plan of Redemption. A disciple comes to him and says, “My father died, I need to bury him.” He says, “Let the dead bury the dead of themselves.” Others ask him about his family and he says, “Who is my mother and brother? Those who do my Father’s will.” And we all remember, “Don’t you understand I’d be about my Father’s business?”

He’s got the most intriguing personality that I’ve ever seen. He stood above Jerusalem and burst into tears, “How I would have gathered you like a hen gathers its chicks.” But to those same people he said, “You're of your father the devil and his desires you want to do!” He repeatedly lashed out at his disciples, “How long do I have to put up with you?” but he willingly laid down his life for every one of them.

He’s never left me and he never will. There are those who live with a Jesus caged in black letters on white pages, but I’m not one of them. Every day I know all the more that he is with me and he’s not silent. He speaks about his Word, his Body, and even about me to me. Sometimes he speaks and his voice is so tender and so sweet that I can’t help but melt with tears and joy. Other times … well … he’s the bomb (there’s just no other way to put it). Knowing that he is here in the room makes all the difference.

Sometimes it is good just to sit down and get quiet, and write out a few things you love about the Lord. 

Text by Peter Smythe
Photograph by Peter Smythe