Monday, December 15, 2025

“Mighty God, Everlasting Father” (Isaiah 9:6; Romans 8:15-18)

 


Awe
The person of our Lord Jesus Christ is deep and wide. He is rich and complex. As followers of Christ, each time we mediate on God’s Word, we see wonderful things in it, and we discover that Christ becomes a little bigger and a little greater to us. It reminds me of Lucy’s experience with Aslan (the Christ figure) in C. S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia, as she gazes once again into his large and wise face.
"Welcome, child,” Aslan said.
“Aslan,” said Lucy, “you’re bigger.”
“That is because you are older, little one,” answered he.
“Not because you are?”
“I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger.”[1]
My prayer is that as we mediate on the names of Jesus this Christmas season, we may find Christ bigger and greater, standing in awe of him and trusting him more.

Mighty God
Through the lips of the prophet Isaiah, the identity of Christ is revealed. “His name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” Last week we reflected on Jesus as our Wonderful Counselor. Today, we meet Jesus as Mighty God and Everlasting Father.

Jesus is Mighty God. The Bible testifies clearly to this truth. He turned water into wine. He healed a man who had been an invalid for 38 years. He fed the five thousand. He walked on water. He raised Lazarus from the dead. And in our own lives, we experience his might as well. We have been saved. Marriages are restored. Churches are healed. All by the mighty work of Jesus.

Yet, most often, Jesus’ might does not appear in mighty or dramatic ways. It reveals itself through weakness, humility, and mercy. The Norwegian artist Edvard Munch captures this beautifully in his painting The Sick Child. Munch lost his older sister Sophie to tuberculosis when she was only 15 years old. He returned again and again to this painful memory in his art. In the painting, Sophie is on her deathbed, suffering from pain, propped by a large while pillow. She gazes towards a curtain, likely a symbol of death. And yet, for some reason, her face is peaceful, almost radiant. Why?

When we look carefully, we notice an older woman holding Sophie’s hand. We sense her desperation, her helplessness, and her deep love. This painting reminds us of Shusaku Endo’s novel The Shore of the Dead Sea. In this story, Jesus does not appear as the Mighty God. He appears as an ordinary man. People come to him asking for miracles, but he does not have the power to perform them. Instead, he stays close to the sick and the abandoned. He grieves with them. He spends the night beside them, keeping watch in compassion.

When Jesus was crucified, people shouted, “If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross. And we will believe.” They mocked him, saying, “He saved others, but he cannot save himself.” On the cross, Jesus performed no miracle. And yet, it was the greatest and most powerful miracle of all – the miracle of love. He didn’t come down from the cross. Instead, he humbled himself, he emptied himself, he died a criminal’s death on the cross. He became sin for us, so that we might become his righteousness. Jesus, the Mighty God, died once to break the power of sin, but now he lives forever!

Everlasting Father
That leads to his next name – Everlasting Father. Jesus is everlasting – “who is, and who was, and who is to come.” (Revelation 1:8) And Jesus is Father. Here we shouldn’t be confused. Jesus is not God the Father. Though God is one, God exists as three distinct persons – Father, Son, Holy Spirit. So in what sense is Jesus a Father? We sometimes call George Washington is the father of the country. In that sense, Jesus is a father – the head and source of God’s kingdom.

Adam was the father of humanity, but he failed. In Adam we all died. But Jesus, the second Adam, prevailed. He succeeded where Adam failed, and he became the Father of a new humanity. In Christ, we are made alive. Paul tells us in Romans 8:15, “You have received adoption to sonship… crying out, ‘Abba, Father.’” Here the Greek word for “adoption to sonship” is a legal term, huiothesia (υἱοθεσία). In Roman culture, when a wealthy man had no heir, he would adopt an adult male and grant him full rights, full status, and full inheritance. At first, “sonship” may sound exclusive or gender-insensitive. But in fact, it’s radically inclusive. A Christian sister once shared that she grew up in a deeply patriarchal culture. Her family had one son and several daughters. As a daughter, she was always treated as a second-class citizen. But when she read Romans 8, she was stunned. In God’s family, there are no second-class children.

We are all sons. We are all heirs. In other words, because of what Christ has done for us, we receive the same inheritance Jesus received - his glory and even his suffering. But Scripture reminds us that our present suffering is nothing compared to our future glory. Imagine two men given the exact same job. They must work 12 hours a day, 7 days a week, doing a boring, repetitive job, with no vacation. At the end, the first man will receive $10,000. The second man knows he will receive $10 billion. Within a week, the first man would say, “I can’t take this anymore. I quit!” But the second man would endure every hardship so willingly, because he knows what’s coming. That is the difference between present suffering and future glory. And all of this is possible because of Jesus Christ – our leader, our shepherd, our Everlasting Father.

Living Sacrifice
So what is our proper response? The conclusion of Romans is clear and strong:
“I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship” (Romans 12:1, NRSV).
Let me offer one illustration. Eric Liddell, the famous Olympic runner, was expected to win the gold medal in the 100 meters. But when he learned that the race was scheduled on Sunday, he chose not to run. His competitor, Harold Abrahams, who went on to win the gold, said something striking: “I must justify my whole existence in ten seconds.” Even after winning, his heart was not at rest.

Eric Liddell lived by a different conviction. He once said to his sister, “When I run, I feel God’s pleasure.” Eric presented his body—his whole being—as a living sacrifice. He used his athletic gifts not to prove himself, but to honor God and to share Christ’s love with others.

Today, we celebrate Consecration Sunday. This is much more than just a financial stewardship campaign. It is a moment to ask a deeper question: What gifts will we bring? Not only our money, but our bodies. Not only our abilities, but our availability. Not just our strength, but even our weakness. And most of all, our very lives.
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small.
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all. 



[1] C. S. Lewis, Prince Caspian (London, Collins, n.d.), 124. quoted in Hughes, R. Kent. John: That You May Believe (Crossway), 483.

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