Reggie Kidd: The Deity of Jesus — So What?

Visiting the Dome of the Rock on Jerusalem’s Temple Mount was sobering for me. Inside the Dome stands the Rock that does double duty as the site where, according to Jewish tradition, Abraham offered Isaac, and from where, according to Muslim teaching, Mohammed ascended to heaven to consult with Moses.

On the ceiling of the roof are inscriptions in Arabic. I had read that one of them is a plea to Christ-worshippers, urging us to abandon our belief in three gods. I was curious as to which of the several inscriptions it was. Breezily cheery American that I am, I thought it would be OK to ask this fellow next to me for help. Clearly, he was guide to a group of people, and he was easily going back and forth between Arabic and English. Perfect, I thought. I don’t read Arabic. He speaks English.

I got only a portion of my question out — right through the part about “Christ-worshippers” — before the man started yelling: “How dare you defame this place with that name?! Where is your guide? You must go away at once.” I left in haste, no less curious about the inscription, but even less interested in reading a newspaper headline about an evangelical seminary professor provoking an international incident.

Our claim that Jesus is God is very much the rub these days. Increasingly, I’m persuaded, it will be incumbent upon us to explain the incarnation’s intersection between heaven and earth — and to embody the difference it makes that the God-man has joined the two worlds in his body.

Consider the situation: in many places in the world where the crescent of Islam prevails, the confession that Jesus is God can get you martyred. The offense: the idea that an utterly transcendent deity could become a man.

At the same time, arguably the fastest growing religion in the U.S., if not the world, is Mormonism. Its confession is the opposite of Islam’s. Not only could God become a man, but God once was a man himself. What we are, he once was. What he is, we can become. Talk about your happy endings. Mormonism confesses Jesus as God, but no more God than you or I can grow into, if we but begin the ascent.

On one front, we have to show and tell how it is that God Almighty could lower himself to take on flesh. On the other front, we have to show and tell how it is that the movement in incarnation is from God to us, and not vice versa.

On another front, increasingly angry atheists are telling us that it is immoral to objectify the best that is in us, project it onto “God,” then seek to reclaim it in Immanuel, “God-with-Us.”

All the while, the leadership of mainline churches in the West has long been in the hands of individuals committed to beliefs about Jesus that, from the standpoint of Christian orthodoxy, are certainly exotic — but in the end are boringly tame in the face of truly the most bizarre claim any religion has ever made: Jesus is 100% man, therefore fully able to win forgiveness, and 100% God, therefore fully able to forgive. Near enough to heal (human), strong enough to save (divine).

The conversation I’d love to have is: “What difference does it make that Jesus is not just man (though certainly that), but also God?”

Scripture tells me that the whole redemptive project of the Old Testament was one failure after another: Noah was a drunk, Abraham a liar, David an adulterous murderer, Solomon a man with affections split between Yahweh and the gods of his wives …

Finally, God himself says (I paraphrase): “Get out of the way — I’m going to do this myself.”

Scripture is crystal clear that it was no phantom that walked the hills of Galilee, and that it was no masquerade that was enacted on Golgotha. At the same time, Scripture’s portrait of Jesus is that it was divinity from which the demons fled and to which nature and disease yielded. It was Jesus’ claim to eternality and to the divine prerogative to forgive that provoked the charges of blasphemy. The nail prints in the Risen Man made the doubting Thomas call Him “My Lord and my God.” The appearance of the Risen Man forced the rabidly monotheistic Saul to adjust his confession of the oneness of God to include Jesus.

But all that seems, I don’t know, a bit abstract, until it takes on flesh — until, for one thing, it is personified in stories of human lives transfigured by contact with divinity. Muslims, Mormons, atheists, and errorists cannot imagine a God-man come for them — none of us can, really, until our imaginations have been forced to recognize the face of God-in-flesh.

So, my question is: “Where have any of us seen … where have any of us touched the power of the divine Jesus to heal, to exorcise, to make alive, to forgive?”

At the risk of sounding churchy: What has Jesus done for any of us that no mere human — that only God himself — could do? 

Really, your story would mean a lot to me. Please post a comment, or email me.

Comments

[debby sutton]

Reggie,
Having just taught this to our 1st/2nd grade children's church (going through the Nicene Creed), I have an example for you.

While recently taking care of friends' children for 2 weeks, their little girl expressed frustration over a classmate's actions. The other girl was mean, rude and just hurtful towards my little charge. "Annie" was frustrated and in tears most of the evening. As we talked, the only solution I could come up with was to pray. "Jesus tells us to pray for our enemies," I shared. "We need to pray for your classmate and ask Jesus to change her heart."

Annie, the consumate thinker, bemoaned, "That'll take a 1,000 years!"

"Yes, it could take that long, but it could take just a day. But, do you believe that Jesus performed miracles?"

"Yes."

"Do you think he can still perform miracles?"

"Yes."

"Then he can perform a miracle in your friend's heart. We'll pray for her each night, ask God to change her heart, and ask God to help us to love her better."

Reggie, we prayed each morning and each evening, sometimes getting good reports, sometimes getting bad, shedding lots of tears. But, come a week later, Annie came home and eagerly shared, "Miss Debby, my friend was nice today. She wanted me to play with her. Our prayers worked!"

I learned two major things those few weeks: first, if we have just that little bit of faith -- real faith that the power of God is available to us because it is in Jesus and we are in him, then we can move mountains (or our hearts to love better); second, miracles continue to happen each and every day in our hearts to make us less selfish, less bitter and less prideful so we can be loved by others.

In two little girls I saw Jesus work -- as only God can.

[Reggie Kidd]

Thanks, Debby. Not growing up in a household of faith myself, the only childhood prayers I remember were manipulative -- e.g., "Dear God, please let me hit a game-winning home run." It's remarkable what a difference it makes to grow up in a home and around adults who believe that Jesus has come and that he cares. When my boys were little (ages 5, 3, & 1), a huge hailstorm blew through the Greater Orlando area, leaving almost every resident with roof or car damage of some sort. While my family watched from inside our house, the hail collapsed our patio roof and pool screen. My 5-year old went down on his knees and said, "We need to pray to Jesus." The rest of us joined him. Honestly, his instincts were better than mine! At the same time, it is clear that he had learned something in our home ... and my wife and I were grateful to receive this return on our investment in our children. Thanks for your faithfulness in embodying faith to Annie. Reggie

[Vicky]

Great question, Reggie, and I'm going to email you, because my answer is a bit on the lengthy side, but the short version is that Jesus utterly transformed my life. Not just once, but several times. Most impressive, to me, is that he came after me when I had decided to throw it all away.

~Vicky