“Son of Man, Son of God” (Luke 3:21-38)

 

Get Him Up!

I once heard a story about an elderly woman in a church in Los Angeles. Everyone affectionately called her “1800” because no one knew how old she was. 1800 had a unique ministry, especially toward preachers. She would sit in the front row, and as soon as the preacher began, she would shout, “Get him up!”—referring to Christ. If the sermon didn’t center on Christ, she would call out again, “Get him up!” And if a preacher failed to “get him up,” he or she was in for a long, hard day.[1]

This story reminds us of the chief purpose of Scripture and our calling as Christians: to lift up Christ. It’s not about us, but about Christ. Jesus himself said, “You examine the Scriptures carefully because you suppose that in them you have eternal life. Yet they testify about me.” (John 5:39, ISV) Like 1800, John the Baptist knew this well. When others tried to focus on him, he quickly pointed them to Jesus. As we open God’s Word today, may the Holy Spirit, the Author of Scripture, open our eyes to see who Christ is, to lift Him up, and to renew our identity in Him.

 

Jesus’ Baptism: Identifying Love

In today’s passage we see people coming to be baptized by John. John’s baptism was a “baptism of repentance” (Luke 3: 3). As people were baptized, they confessed their sins. (Matt 3:6) But Jesus, being sinless, had no need of repentance. So why was Jesus baptized? Two profound things happened at his baptism.

First, at his baptism Jesus identifies with humanity. When Jesus stepped into the Jordan River, he stepped into our world, becoming one of us. John 1:14 says, “The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood.” (MSG) Jesus entered our neighborhood so he could take on our sins and weaknesses and remove them! (cf. Isaiah 53:4)

I still remember a day from my childhood that has stayed with me. It was the day my mom cried. When I was young, I told lies to my parents. I don’t even remember the exact details now, but one day, I told a huge lie. My dad was very upset and decided to discipline me. I was scared and did what any frightened child might do—I hid behind my mom. At that moment, I thought, “Now I’m safe.” But then something happened that I will never forget. My mom took the punishment in my place. My dad caned my mom instead of me. I was shocked, stunned, and heartbroken. Watching her take my punishment made me realize, “Wow, wait a minute! Telling a lie is serious stuff!”

This experience gave me a glimpse of the depth of what Jesus has done for us. Christ’s love is an "identifying love"—a love that steps into our place, fully shares in our struggles, and bears the consequences of our sins. Jesus stood in our place, fully identifying with our sins, and bore them on the cross. Jesus’ baptism gives us a glimpse of the depth of Christ’s love for us: He took on our sins so we could be free.

Jesus’ Baptism: Redeeming Love

Second, at his baptism Jesus redeems humanity – redeems our lives. The most ancient answer to the question, “Why was Jesus baptized?” may surprise us. Ignatius of Antioch in the second century declares, “The reason why he was born and baptized, was that he would purify the water by means of his suffering.”[2]

While he was praying and baptizing, heaven was open, and the Holy Spirit came down on him like a dove. And there was a voice: “You are my beloved Son. I am well pleased with you.” Through his baptism, Jesus redeems John’s baptism. It became not just about repentance, but also about a new identity. In Christ, our old names – “Wounded,” “Afraid,” “Not-enough,” “Lonely,” are replaced with new names: “Confidence,” “Faithful one,” “Joy,” “Beloved,” “Child of God.”

Christ’s love compels us, so that we could live no longer for ourselves but for him who died for us (cf. 2 Cor 5:14). Toyohiko Kagawa (1880-1960) is an inspiring example of this. He was born in Kobe, Japan. His father was a wealthy businessman, while his biological mother was a geisha, a Japanese dancing girl. Both his parents died when he was only four years old, and he was then sent to live with his stepmother. There he was physically abused, unwanted and unloved. He bore the scars of loneliness for the rest of his life. While he was at school in Tokushima, he was introduced to some American missionaries. At the age of fifteen he was baptized. Though he was disowned by his family, God became his Abba Father. Kagawa was transformed by Christ’s love. After finishing seminary, he moved into the slums. He visited the sick; he fed the hungry; he lodged the homeless; he became an elder brother to the prostitutes. Parents turned to him for advice. Criminals made him their father-confessor… The children swarmed around him. The cross of Christ was central to his life and ministry. And his favorite hymn was “Jesus Keep Me Near the Cross.”[3] Christ’s love compels us.

                                            

Jesus’ Genealogy: God’s Love for All

Right after Jesus’ baptism, Luke presents Jesus’ genealogy. So what’s the point? In the New Testament, there are two versions of Jesus’ genealogy – one is written in Matthew 1, and the other in Luke 3. Matthew’s genealogy highlights Jesus as the fulfillment of the promises made to Abraham – the offspring of Abraham, the hope of Israel. So the family tree begins with Abraham. But this is not enough for Luke. He connects the story of Jesus not just with Israel but with all humanity. Luke doesn’t stop at Abraham, but goes back to the very beginning of creation, Adam, who represents all humanity – Jesus is the son of Adam, the son of God (Luke 3:38).

When we receive Jesus and trust him as our Savior, he identifies with our sins, redeems our lives, and gives us a new identity. When we are baptized into Jesus’ name, we are adopted into God’s family. God becomes our Father. Jesus our Savior and Brother, and we are united as a spiritual family.

In the movie, The Ride, based on a true story, we meet a boy named John whose life is marked by brokenness. Raised in a deeply dysfunctional family, he ends up in jail as a teenager, filled with anger, hopelessness, and a sense of being unloved. But his life takes a transformative turn when he is fostered by a couple who share a similar painful past. They embrace him with unconditional love. They understand his pain because they’ve lived it themselves. Their love doesn’t remove the struggles overnight, but through trials, patience, and tears, they help him find healing and purpose.

 

One of the most moving scenes in the movie is the adoption moment. The main character, John, tries to project an image of being cool and strong, showcasing his talent as a skilled BMX rider. But deep inside, he is haunted by insecurity and restlessness. The painful voices from his past echo in his mind: "You are nothing. You are a failure." His foster parents notice his struggles and decide to speed up the adoption process before his upcoming BMX competition. In a pivotal moment, John’s heart is flooded with a profound sense of assurance as they tell him, "You are our beloved son. You are enough." For the first time, he feels truly seen, accepted, and loved. This newfound identity doesn’t erase his past, but it redeems it, giving him the courage to embrace his future with hope and confidence.

 

Near the Cross

When we think about ourselves, our families, or our church, from a human’s perspective, we may feel “not enough” – not big enough, influential enough, or capable enough. Some of us may be still haunted by voices from the past that make us insecure and lonely. But the Good News is this: In Christ, we are made new. The old life is gone; a new life begins!

Let us come to the waters of baptism. Let us come to the cross. And we will hear our Heavenly Father say, “You are my beloved child. I am well pleased with you.”

 

Jesus, keep me near the cross,
There a precious fountain;
Free to all, a healing stream,
Flows from Calvary’s mountain. 

In the cross, in the cross
Be my glory ever,
Till my ransomed soul shall find
Rest beyond the river.

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[1] R. Kent Hughes, Luke (2 volumes in 1 / ESV Edition) (Preaching the Word) (p. 118). Crossway. Kindle Edition.

[2] Justo L. Gonzalez, Luke: Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible (p. 53). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

[3] John Stott, The Incomparable Christ (p. 150). InterVarsity Press. Kindle Edition.

“Who Are You?” (John 1:19-28)

 

Who Am I?
Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a German pastor who stood firmly against the Nazi regime during World War II. Born into a well-to-do family, his faith led him to imprisonment. In prison, he wrestled deeply with his identity, asking himself, “Who am I?” The following is one of his writings:

Who am I? They often tell me
I would step from my cell’s confinement
calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
like a squire from his country-house.

Who am I? They often tell me
I would talk to my warders
freely and friendly and clearly,
as though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me
I would bear the days of misfortune
equably, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really all that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I know of myself,
restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,
yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
trembling with anger at despotism and petty humiliation,
tossing in expectation of great events,
powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?

Who am I? This or the other?
Am I one person today, and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
and before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army,
fleeing in disorder from a victory already achieved?

Who am I?
They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, thou knowest, O God, I am thine.

At the River

Who am I? Knowing ourselves is one of the most important qualities in our life journey. In today’s passage, the Jews aggressively questioned John the Baptist, “Who are you?” John responded plainly, “I am not the Christ.” They pressed further, “Then who are you? Are you Elijah?” “No,” he replied. “Are you the Prophet we are expecting?” “No,” he said.

At the time, people were expecting Elijah, Moses, or a powerful Messianic figure to come and save them from oppression. Again, they asked, “Who are you? What do you say about yourself?” John answered, “I am a voice crying out in the wilderness, make the Lord’s path straight, just as the prophet Isaiah said.”

John saw himself as a humble servant – a voice that cries out and then disappears, not the powerful figure they anticipated. John knew who he was and who he was not. His identity was grounded in God’s Word.

The Way
Like John the Baptist, there were other people who have sought truth and found their identity in God’s signs. The Magi were one of them. Who were the Magi? The term “Magi” originally referred to priests in ancient Persia. Many scholars believe the Magi in the nativity story came from Babylon, traveling nearly nine hundred miles. Their journey likely took several months.

When the Magi saw the star, they embarked on a bold journey to Jerusalem. Though they may not have fully understood who Jesus was, they knew they needed a true King and Savior.

Upon arriving in Jerusalem, the contrast became clear. The Magi actively sought Jesus, while the Jewish religious leaders, though they had accurate scriptural knowledge, did nothing. When asked where the Messiah would be born, the priests quoted Micah 5:2, but they returned to life as usual. They did nothing. Their knowledge did not lead them to action because they were content with their current lives. They felt no need for a Savior.

In the movie The Way, Tom, an American eye doctor, learns that his son died while on the pilgrimage, the Camino de Santiago. Tom travels to France to bring his son’s body home, but then later, he decides to take the pilgrimage himself in honor of his son’s desire to complete it.

On his journey, Tom meets several fellow pilgrims, each with different reasons for walking the Camino. One wants to lose weight, another to quit smoking, and another to find inspiration for writing. Yet, as they travel together, deeper questions emerge. It becomes less about their original goals and more about restoring relationships, healing from guilt, and rediscovering purpose of life. By the end of the pilgrimage, they are transformed – not because some miracles happen or their problems are solved, but because they realize that they are pilgrims. They realize who they are and who they are not.

The signs
The Magi needed a guiding star. John the Baptist, though clear in his calling, still needed God’s signs along the path. Later, from prison, John sent his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the One we’ve been expecting, or should we wait for someone else?” (Matthew 11:3). Jesus responded, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive sight, the lame walk, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor hear the good news.” John saw the sign, stayed the course, and finished his race well.

During Christmas break, my family and I took a trip to Boston. As we traveled, I prayed for signs and assurance that I was on the right path. On Sunday morning, I planned to worship at Grace-Vision UMC, my home church. However, the church had moved locations three times, and I accidentally went to the wrong place.

The first church we visited had just three cars in the parking lot, and the atmosphere felt lifeless. Though we were late, we searched online and found the correct location, fifteen minutes away. When we finally arrived and opened the door, Joyce and I were shocked. The church, once filled with 60-70 people, now had fewer than 20. Many had left because of pastoral changes, internal dissension, and denominational struggles.

Despite all this, I saw life. The pastor and his family were fully invested, repairing the building and preparing the rooms for children and youth by faith. The faithful remnant encouraged me. As I worshiped with them, my heart was refreshed. I saw the light, and I was ready to return to God’s country.

Look again!
We don’t need to search far for special stars or take a special trip to find God’s signs. They are always near, found in His Word and woven throughout our daily lives.

Pastor John Piper once shared a story that profoundly shaped his life – the story of Agassiz and the fish.[1] Louis Agassiz (1807-1873) was the founder of the Harvard Museum of Comparative Zoology and a Harvard professor. One of his students, Samuel Scudder, recounted a lesson he learned in Agassiz’s classroom that left a lasting imprint on his life. On the first day of class, Professor Agassiz handed Samuel a large jar filled with specimens preserved in yellow alcohol. Reaching in, Agassiz pulled out a fish and handed it to Samuel, saying, “Take this fish and look at it. We call it a Haemulon. By and by, I will ask you what you have seen.” Samuel examined the fish carefully. In about ten minutes, he thought he had seen everything there was to see. The scales, the fins, the shape of the mouth – what else could there possibly be? Hours passed, and still, the professor had not returned. By the time Agassiz came back, Samuel confidently reported his observations. But to his surprise, the professor was disappointed. “Is that all you have seen?” he asked. “Look again; look again!” The next several days, Samuel had no other assignment. For three days, he stared at that same wretched fish – day and night. He was not allowed to study anything else or use any instruments to aid his examination. The only instructions he received were, “Look, look, look.” By the end of those three days, something incredible happened. Samuel could draw the fish in perfect detail without even looking at it. Every scale, fin, and ridge was engraved in his mind. When Agassiz finally introduced a second fish on the fourth day, Samuel was immediately able to see both the similarities and differences between the two.

As we step into the new year, may we root our identity in God’s Word. May we meditate on the Word deeply and patiently, allowing Christ to dwell richly within us – guiding, shaping, and transforming us. Amen.

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[1] John Piper, Foundations for Lifelong Learning: Education in Serious Joy (p. 165). Crossway. Kindle Edition.

“God with Us” - 2024 Christmas Eve Service Message -

“A”

We have a letter “A” on the screen? What word comes to your mind? (apple, Abe, etc.) But how about some negative words such as “adultery”? And what if you have to wear that letter in public all the time?

 

In fact, the author Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote about this. In his book The Scarlet Letter, main character Hester Prynne is forced to wear a scarlet “A” for adultery, a mark of her shame. Yet, she transforms her punishment into a symbol of strength and grace. On the other hand, Arthur Dimmesdale, respected clergy, the child’s father, hides his sin and is consumed by guilt and torment. This story reminds us of the destructive power of sin and the redemptive power of grace that confession brings. Eventually this story points us to the gospel—where sin once enslaved us, Jesus takes it away.

 

Now let us pause and think of the weight of the sins, guilt, and shame we carry. For us, “A” may not stand for “adultery”; it may stand for “addiction,” or “abortion,” or others. Whatever the invisible scarlet letter you carry, Jesus is able to cleanse us and enable us to do a fresh start! When John the Baptist saw Jesus, he declared, “Look! The Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world (your name, and my name)!” (John 1:29). Imagine if we came to John for baptism today, each wearing a nametag with our name and sin written on it. “Victor: Judgmental Spirit or Pride.” What would yours say? [pause] Then comes Jesus, who needs no nametag, asking each of us to give Him ours. He takes every tag—every sin—and places them on Himself. When Jesus enters the waters of baptism, He identifies with our sins so we can be free. As 2 Corinthians 5:21 says, “God made Him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.”

 

Homecoming

From the beginning, Jesus was rejected. When Joseph and Mary traveled to Bethlehem (Joseph’s hometown) for the census, they found no room at the inn (guest room). There no doubt would have been extended family there. It would have been customary for Joseph and Mary to be invited to stay with relatives. At that time most houses had guest rooms of some kind, for situations like this. Isn’t that strange all the guest rooms of Joseph's relatives were full and not available? We can easily assume that Joseph and Mary were not welcomed because of the stigma associated with Mary’s pregnancy – invisible scarlet letter “A.”

 

So Jesus was born not in a warm home but in a stable, surrounded by animals. He entered the world in humility/ humiliation, to reach us, love us, and redeem us. Ambrose of Milan beautifully put it this way:

 

“He became an infant and a child, so that you might be a perfect person… He was in a manger so that you might be at the altar. He was on earth so that you might be in heaven. He had no room at the inn so that you might have mansions in heaven.”

 

The Long Silence

The play entitled The Long Silence says it all:

 

At the end of time, billions of people stood before God’s throne. Most of them were standing afar in reverence, but some stood defiantly in the front. A young woman raised her sleeve, exposing a concentration camp tattoo, demanding, “How can God judge us? We endured terror, beatings, torture, death.” A Black man stepped forward, revealing a rope burn scar and asking, “Lynched, for no crime but being Black. What does God know of this?” A pregnant teenager murmured, “Why should I suffer? It wasn’t my fault.” Countless others shared their suffering, declaring God must first experience their pain to judge them. They sentenced God to live on earth—as a man, saying “Let Him be born a Jew, questioned from birth. Let His closest friends betray Him. Let false charges convict Him, and let Him suffer alone and die, with witnesses to confirm it.” As each sentence was proclaimed, murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd, but as the final words pronounced, there was a long silence, because they suddenly realized—God had already served His sentence.

 

God with Us

This past summer my family and I visited Niagara Falls. We were just in awe of its beauty. What draws us in? It’s the vast difference in elevation—the height of the fall. Similarly, the beauty of Christmas lies in the immense distance Jesus traveled. The Son of God, the Creator of the universe, came down to earth. He gave up His divine privilege and became a helpless child, fully dependent on His parents. He experienced every part of human life, not skipping any of it. Why? Because of love. God’s radical love.

In Jesus, God came to us to live with us, to save us, and to give us new life. This is a holy night.

 

So, what can we give Him? Christina Rossetti (“In the Bleak Midwinter”) wrote (in verse 4):

“What can I give him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
Yet, what can I give Him? Give my heart.”

Tonight, as we gaze upon the nativity, let us remember this: the baby in the manger is the answer to our deepest cries. Jesus, Immanuel, God with us. He knows our suffering. He carries our wounds. He has already borne your pain. Let us come, fall on our knees, and give him our hearts. Merry Christmas. Amen.