echoes of redemption

There is this foundational theme in the Scriptures that God always hears the cry of man.

The biggest example is the Exodus of Israel from Egyptian oppression. God’s response seems to be rooted in the idea that he heard their cry rise up from the struggle of slavery.

Over and over you’ll watch God move in response to the cry of his people. All the way to the point that he sends Jesus in response to the cry of the people under the burden of sin and the weight of the law.

In a way, Jesus coming to earth is just another extension of God’s character – responding to the cry of his people.

Of course, I live in a country where much of what I need is at my fingertips. I can insulate myself with possessions and money. Finding comfort in my home. Security in the different accounts I where keep my money. I can find answers to most of life’s problems without looking outside of myself.

But am I missing an expression of God’s character because I’m never in a spot where I need to cry out?

Maybe crying out is a privilege. Maybe when the pain of life lands on me I shouldn’t just try to solve the problems on my own. Maybe I should cry out.

Because God hears the cry.

And when God hears the cry, the real miracles begin.

The waters part.

The Messiah comes to redeem his people.

And life is never the same again.

The idea of God with man is revolutionary.

But I have trouble seeing it like that – because they words are so cliché. But in the Ancient Near East, divine structures were generally closed systems. Just like there is no way to crack into a first generation iPhone, there was no way to enter the divine – and vise-versa.

For Egypt and Mesopotamia, gods and men were not only separate, they were often at odds. (Even the gods were at odds with themselves.)

Often Ancient Near Eastern creation narratives involve the gods making a planet to support themselves.

Then the gods create men to cultivate the planet so they don’t have to. Man’s job is to support the gods.

But the gods were generally angry with men. So, the sacrifice of  human life would please the gods’ anger for men.

Then this group of Jews came along telling a story about their God.

He made the Earth as a place to support men.

He gave them food.

He would ultimately sacrifice his life for them. He would pour himself out for the good of men.

It’s subversive. It’s backwards. It is God for the good of man.

And that’s part of what makes the narrative of God

so

powerful.

The Messiah is coming.

Of course, he wouldn’t be the military leader everyone had made him to be in their heads. He would come of peace.

And he wouldn’t be the political leader they wanted him to be. In fact, he sat under one of the most unjust governments in the world’s history and told people to submit to it.

And he wouldn’t build an empire on this earth. Because he seemed obsessed with God’s Kingdom – a holistically redemptive, servant-oriented, way of living that would change everything.

So he spent his life engaged with people. Never missing an interruption. Always showing grace. Pouring himself out for all of man. You couldn’t pry him away from the poor. You couldn’t keep him from those who benefited from corrupt business. Or from befriending prostitutes. He brought hope to the darkness of life on this planet. Peace to a people who had been almost continually at war and under oppression. Life to anyone who would listen.

His name was Jesus. And he is the Messiah.

So during this season we join with centuries of people in anticipating him. Because we do it on this side of the cross, we get to celebrate his coming to the earth while we anticipate his return to complete the redemption of man.