The theme of the fourth and final Sunday of Advent is love—a topic on which we have no shortage of scripture. Paul hails love as the crowning Christian virtue, without which even the most righteous acts are hollow (1 Corinthians 13:1-13). John tells us that God is love, and love makes us fearless (1 John 4:16-18). But what does love look like? In the Christmas story, love looks like presence.
In this week’s passage from Isaiah (7:10-16), King Ahaz is getting on the Lord’s last nerve. He’s refusing to ask for a sign—which seems pious enough, but it’s clear he really needs one. So what sign does Isaiah proclaim? Will God make the legions of soldiers Ahaz is dying for appear out of thin air? No. The sign will be…a baby.
As unhelpful as an infant’s birth may seem in a time of war, there is certainly something special about this baby. Isaiah says that the nations gathering forces against Judah will be toppled (v. 16)—and it has something to do with this child. The hint is in the name: Immanuel.
The Gospel of Matthew claims that Isaiah’s prophecy is fulfilled by Mary’s pregnancy with Jesus (1:22-23). Just in case the specialness of this child wasn’t clear, the writer even explains what the name Immanuel means: “God with us.” Through Mary, in the person of Jesus, God is with us.
Those who grow up Christian are taught from a young age that God is always with us, omnipresent. And this is true. Indeed, the psalmist sings,
Where can I go from your spirit?
Or where can I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.
If I take the wings of the morning
and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me fast. (Psalm 139:7-10)
But in Jesus, God’s presence becomes tangible. Christmas is the incarnation, the enfleshment, of God. Such an event makes manifest what our baptismal vows call “the dignity of every human being” (Book of Common Prayer 305). On Christmas, God proves that there is no length to which Love will not go—“Let it be deep as Sheol or high as heaven” (Is 7:11)—to be with us.
The earthly journey of Love begins in the humble manger, reaches its agonizing height on the cross, proves victorious in the empty grave, and brings human flesh to God’s right hand at the ascension. To be firstborn from the dead (Colossians 1:18; Revelation 1:5), opening the gates of resurrected life, Jesus first had to be born and die as one of us. What wondrous love indeed!
And so, let us see each other as human, made in the image and infused with the presence of God. Let there be no height nor depth—physical, social, or spiritual—to which we will not go for each other. And let us take comfort in the knowledge that there is no mistake too shameful, no recess of the soul too dark, no doubt too impious, nor despair too fathomless for God’s love to meet us there.
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