Have you ever thought about where the phrase “down to earth” came from? We English-speakers use it as an idiom to express the idea that someone is relatable, humble, accessible, not snooty or conceited or aloof. But it hit me the other day that the meaning behind the phrase could have come from the life of Someone who literally came down to Earth and was relatable, humble, and accessible despite having all the right in the universe to stand aloof. You might have an idea of who I’m talking about. But how did I start thinking about this in the first place? Let me back up and tell you a story…
In the last
ten months of living in the Middle East, I’ve lost count of the number of times
people have expressed amazement or confusion at the fact that my husband and I
are living here instead of in America. The locals especially find it hard to
fathom that someone from one of the freest countries on earth would leave all
that behind and live under occupation, with all the difficulties and
inconveniences such a life brings. I usually tell people how God has helped me
and prepared me to live here, how life in America is no utopia despite the fact
many people think of it as heaven, and how contentment in life doesn’t come
from where you live; it comes from having a relationship with Jesus. All of
that is very much true. But there’s also another reason I chose to move to my
husband’s city in the Middle East: because I love him.
Truth be
told, he has been one of the major instruments God has used to prepare me for
life here. His patient and tireless explaining of everything foreign, his
encouragement as I learn and try new things, his understanding when my brain
has reached its limit for the day, his determination to find random items at
the grocery store so I can cook a favorite meal—with all of these, he has made
the adjustment so much easier.
But there
are some things outside of his control. He can’t change the fact that we must
be cognizant of how many appliances we have running at one time so the power
doesn’t go out. He can’t change the fact that we can’t throw toilet paper in
the toilet because the plumbing can’t handle it (although, to be honest, that’s
really not that bad once you get used to it). He can’t change the fact that we
can’t go visit one of the most famous cities in the world even though it’s less
than ten miles from us because I haven’t been issued a permit. He can’t change
the fact that we drive by multiple armed soldiers on our way to visit his
grandparents. He can’t change the fact that we often have to cancel plans or
change travel routes because of the latest round of unrest. He can’t change the
fact that the process to travel is exhausting and frustrating and unnecessarily
time-consuming and often dehumanizing. And the fact that I have to experience
these things that have characterized the majority of his life sometimes weighs
heavily on him.
“I’m sorry
you have to go through this,” he will say. But I hold him and tell him the
truth: “You’re worth it.” No, living here is not always easy, especially as an
American who has freedom and equal protection under the law running in her veins.
Sometimes it’s downright infuriating. But getting to be his wife and live
alongside him and understand his lifelong experience in a deeper way, even if
only partially, is worth all the difficulties. I can face them because of my
God-given love for him.
I’ve often
heard it said that when you become a parent you start to have a deeper
understanding of the way in which God loves you as His child. As Jesus said, “If
you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much
more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!”
(Matthew 7:11, ESV). The experience of parenting and unconditionally loving a
child gives us a glimpse of the unconditional love that God has for His
children.
In the same
way, I’ve found that my experience of leaving my relatively comfortable life in
America and moving to a place where I have to worry about concrete walls and
checkpoints and permits and soldiers, the process of entering into the world of
people I love, to live among them as they live and to be considered one of
them, has given me a deeper understanding of the sacrifice Jesus made by
becoming incarnate. He left the completely perfect realm of Heaven, the only
actual utopia, and came literally and figuratively down to Earth to live among
us as we live and to be one of us.
A Being who
was self-sufficient, He made Himself dependent. A Being who was
self-sustaining, He subjected Himself to hunger and thirst. An all-powerful
Being who never slumbers or sleeps, He inhabited a body that became tired and
sleepy. The Being who designed the human body and created its process of
development, He willingly entered a womb and experienced being physically born.
A Being who was omnipresent, He experienced the physical limitations of
humanity that require travel to be in a different place and prevent being in
multiple places at once.
The Word of
God made Himself a child who had to learn to speak. The Light of the World entered
a world that became dark every evening. The Prince of Peace came to dwell in a
land of unrest. The King of Kings became a common carpenter. The Just Judge
subjected Himself to a system of injustice. Jesus, “though he was in the
form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied
himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.
And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the
point of death, even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:6-8, ESV).
Why?
Because He loved us. Because the world and all of creation needed to be set
right. Because our relationship to Him, to ourselves, to each other, and to
nature needed to be healed and restored. He could have left us to our own ruin,
but He loved us. He could have given up on us and destroyed us like we deserve,
but He loved us. He could have avoided the inconveniences and difficulties of
life as a human, but He loved us. He could have escaped the suffering and pain
He endured from living and dying in this fallen world, but He loved us.
So He came.
Down to Earth. He lived how we lived; He worked how we worked; He felt how we
felt; He walked how we walked and traveled how we traveled; He sweat how we
sweat and toiled how we toiled; He ate how we ate, drank how we drank, slept
how we slept, and cried how we cried; He was “tempted as we are, yet
without sin” (Hebrews 4:15, ESV). And all because He loved us. “For
while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly,”
and this was the culmination of the plan to show His and the Father’s love
(Romans 5:6, 8 ESV).
What a
deep, abiding, perfect love that Jesus Christ has for us. Because of this love,
it is possible for us to go from being enemies to children of God (see 1 John
3:1). That the Supreme God of the universe would love us so much that He would
willingly identify with us, live among us, and become one of us, even while we
were rebelling against Him—what an awe-inspiring thought. That He would care
enough about us to understand our struggles and the difficulties of our
situation, not only intellectually from being all-knowing but experientially
from enduring them Himself—what a mind-blowing realization. What beautiful,
wondrous love!
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