Since Adam and Eve ate the fruit God told them not to, every generation has groaned with the pains of childbirth, longing to be delivered from the effects of their first parents’ fall (Romans 8:22). And now, our deliverer has come. He is the hero of our story, the perfect spotless lamb sent to adorn the doorposts of our hearts with His own blood (1 Peter 1:17–21, Exodus 12:22).
He is the descendant from Eve sent to crush the head of the deceiver (Genesis 3:15). He is Isaac’s ram caught in the thicket, God’s perfectly timed provision of a substitute (Genesis 22:13). He is the heir of Abraham’s line—born by a miracle and filling the world with laughter (Genesis 22:18).
He gave Jacob the gracious gift of a limp to remind him of his weakness (Genesis 32:25). He is the new Joseph, the forgotten brother, unrecognizable in a foreign land (Genesis 42:8, John 1:11), though He alone possesses the resources needed to satisfy our spiritual famine.
He is our new Moses, sent by God to deliver us from the land of our slavery into our promised inheritance (Exodus 3:7–10). He doesn’t just deliver God’s Law to us (Exodus 34:29), He fulfills it on our behalf—perfectly (Matthew 5:17).
He is the faultless judge who rescues His people from our own waywardness (Judges 2:17, 2 Corinthians 3:4–6). He does what no other judge is able to do—He takes our hearts of stone and gives us hearts of flesh (Ezekiel 11:19).
He is the King the Lord promised to David, a ruler from his own body whose Kingdom the Lord would establish forever, ancient and strong (2 Samuel 7:12). He has courage deeper than David (Luke 6:1–5), wisdom greater than Solomon (Luke 11:31), and faith firmer than Elijah (Matthew 4:1–11). He is the remnant growing beneath the smoldering ruins of Judah, the Son to be given, the child to be born (Isaiah 9:6).
He is Immanuel—God with His people (Isaiah 6:13).
Where there is despair, He brings hope. Where there is brokenness, He brings healing. Where there is sadness, He brings joy. Where there is bondage, He sets people free.
The people of His day had grown up with the stories of Immanuel’s coming. They had heard the prophets implore them to listen, but seeing, they did not see, and hearing, they did not hear, nor did they understand (Matthew 13:13).
But who could blame them? Jesus grew up like a young plant, like a root out of dry ground with nothing in His form—no majesty or beauty—that would lead anyone to desire Him (Isaiah 53:1–3). No one could know by looking at Him that He had come to bear their grief and carry their sorrows. The days ahead for Him would bring suffering so great that people would consider Him stricken by God and afflicted.
But the purpose of this suffering was what pleased the Father. He would be wounded for our transgressions. He would be crushed for our iniquities. Upon Him would be laid the punishment that would bring His people peace, and by His wounds we would be healed (Romans 5:1, Hebrews 9:22, Isaiah 53:4–5).
Like sheep, every last man, woman, and child has gone astray, each turning to their own way. So the Father sent His Son and laid on Him the iniquity of us all (Isaiah 53:6–7).
Under unjust allegations, Jesus was betrayed, arrested, tried, and put to death as a criminal. But death could not hold Him. He had done no wrong, so He owed it no wage. Jesus was never the victim of men; it was the will of His Father to crush Him. It was God who put Him through such grief to bear the iniquities of His people, making many unrighteous men righteous (Isaiah 53:8–12).
No one took His life from Him. He laid it down, and He took it up again, claiming victory over the grave (John 10:18).
All of this required a birth.
written by Russ Ramsey
adapted from Behold the Lamb of God: An Advent Narrative