The Doctrine of God at Christmas
Paul’s message to Titus and the Advent of God’s salvation.
Even though the apostle Paul was not writing his letter to Titus with the specific idea of “Christmas” in mind, his words are, nevertheless, brimming with the very essence of what is celebrated during the Christmas season. Indeed, Paul’s message to his protégé on the isle of Crete contains not only the timeless truths of Advent but also the enduring hope for the entire Christian life — namely, that those who belong to God are those who wait for the “appearing” of the one who was promised to deliver them from all evil, and their waiting won’t be in vain. In the section prior to our text, Paul addresses a series of practical issues that Titus was to attend to within his congregation (Titus 2:1–10) — issues concerning the church’s livelihood, language, and lifestyle — all of which have as their foundation the “sound doctrine” of God. What Paul considers in the first half of Titus 2 is nothing less than an alternative version of the “fruit of the Spirit,” which he talks about at length elsewhere (Gal. 5). But what he is particularly eager to explain is how these practical considerations emerge from a preoccupation with “the doctrine of God our Savior” (Titus 2:10), which is nothing less than the “blessed hope” for which the people of God had long been waiting.
1. God’s Promise Is Fulfilled in the Incarnation
Far from simply being quaint accounts of Jesus’s birth, texts such as Luke 2 and Matthew 1 record for us the culmination of centuries of waiting. Within those Scriptures are stories that reverberate with prophetic and historic fulfillment — stories that realize the hope that was passed down since the days of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. This hope was, to be sure, coming true in the most unexpected manner; after all, the Savior of the world enters the world as a helpless newborn. But be that as it may, the point of these stories is the realization of humanity’s salvation. It is precisely the story of Jesus’s nativity in which “the doctrine of God our Savior” is concentrated (Titus 2:10). The “doctrine” or teaching that Paul refers to is, of course, the announcement that God’s Word has taken on flesh to bring about his purpose of redemption. The Creator has stepped into his creation to repair it from the inside out; that which he made would be remade by him and through him. This is why he “appeared”:
For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people. (Titus 2:11)
But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us. (Titus 3:4–5)
This encapsulates the essence of the good news since the prevailing concern of the gospel is how the very presence of the Son of God sets in motion the actual hope of salvation “for all people.” Humanity’s longing for deliverance from sin and death is realized in him. We see this right away in the prayers of Mary (Luke 1:46–47), Zechariah (Luke 1:68–71), and Simeon (Luke 2:29–30) — each of whom understood that their salvation was being accomplished in their midst by God himself. It is this solemn confession that distinguishes the Christian faith from all other religions. While other religious systems or spiritual mythologies have their own stories about gods coming down to visit humanity, whenever this occurs, it rarely ends well. The concept of “divine intervention” is not always associated with “good news.” In fact, in many cases, this is a menacing or ominous notion. In Norse mythology, for example, Loki is known as the “trickster god” since he was often seen deceiving both gods and men, resulting in untold chaos and conflict in the heavens. Similarly, the Greek god of thunder, Zeus, was known for his frequent love affairs with human women. These escapades frequently kept him embroiled in strife and scandal with the other gods of Olympus. Interestingly enough, Paul himself came into contact with one of these myths of incarnation.
2. The Savior Who Appears
In Acts 14, Paul and Barnabas are in the middle of their first missionary journey, where, after arriving in the city of Lystra, they notice a man who had “never walked” a day in his life since he was “crippled from birth” (Acts 14:8). As Paul locked eyes with this pitiful figure, he healed him with a word. “Paul, looking intently at him and seeing that he had faith to be made well, said in a loud voice, ‘Stand upright on your feet.’ And he sprang up and began walking” (Acts 14:9–10). This, as you might imagine, caused quite a ruckus throughout the surrounding neighborhoods. With rumors quickly circulating all over Lystra about what Paul and Barnabas had done, the crowds soon began rejoicing over them as though they were the incarnations of Zeus and Hermes (Acts 14:11–12).
The Greeks, you see, had a myth about a time when the gods Zeus and Hermes — or Jupiter and Mercury, respectively, for the Romans — once descended from Mount Olympus. According to the legend, they had disguised themselves as humans in order to visit the people of the nearby region of Phrygia. As they roamed the streets, no one welcomed them inside or showed them an ounce of hospitality; not a single soul was kind to them — no one, that is, except for an elderly couple by the names of Philemon and Baucis. Although Philemon and Baucis were a meager couple, with next to nothing attached to their names, they selflessly and generously welcomed Zeus and Hermes into their home and served them as best they could. To reward them for their piety and generosity, Zeus and Hermes proceeded to punish all of their neighbors by flooding the entire town. (I guess everyone else was on the “naughty list!”) With this myth filling their hearts, the people of Lystra were thrilled that it was, by all accounts, coming true for them, too. The priest of Zeus even starts a procession through the streets to celebrate the arrival of their “gods” (Acts 14:12–13). But we are not left to imagine Paul’s horror at being associated with these myths — his reaction tells us all we need to know:
But when the apostles Barnabas and Paul heard of it, they tore their garments and rushed out into the crowd, crying out, “Men, why are you doing these things? We also are men, of like nature with you, and we bring you good news, that you should turn from these vain things to a living God, who made the heaven and the earth and the sea and all that is in them.” (Acts 14:14–15)
This entire scene exposes what happens when “other gods” come down. Very often, the appearance of other deities resulted in deception, havoc, and ruin. Like the people of Lystra, these fanciful fables only served to stir up madness and mayhem, leaving a trail of tears in their wake. There is nothing at all redeeming in the story of Zeus and Hermes visiting the people of Phrygia, which highlights what makes the Christian gospel so uniquely compelling. Far from a sense of fear or foreboding that often accompanies those other legends, the fact that Jehovah has taken on flesh and visited his people is one that brings salvation to them — namely, to “all people.” The arrival of the Son of God is the inauguration of peace on earth and “good will toward men” (Luke 2:14). Rather than scattering like cockroaches when the light is turned on, the announcement of the incarnation of the Son of God beckons those “who sit in darkness” to come into the light (Luke 1:78–79).
3. Let Earth Receive Her King
Advent is an invitation for us to remember that the baby whom Mary “wrapped in swaddling cloths and laid in a manger” is none other than the “Savior, who is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:7, 11). He descended from heaven for the express purpose of “bringing salvation [to] all people” (Titus 2:11). This hearkens back to Joseph’s encounter with the angel in Matthew 1. Joseph, of course, was understandably scandalized by the news that his fiancée had unexpectedly become pregnant (Matt. 1:18–19). But as he wrestled with what to do next, an angel visited him in a dream and informed him that the child growing in the womb of his soon-to-be wife was not just a man but was the God-Man, God’s only Son. “Do not fear to take Mary as your wife,” said the angel, “for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins” (Matt. 1:20–21).
The baby whom he and Mary would soon welcome into the world was none other than Christ the Lord coming down and “being born in the likeness of men” (Phil. 2:7). The infant is none other than Immanuel. It is God himself showing up to be “with” his people. The embryo in Mary’s belly was “the Word becoming flesh and dwelling among us” (John 1:14). Accordingly, this announcement to Joseph signals how God himself invaded this world of sin and death in order to bring an end to sin and put death to death. This is exactly what his name entails. The name “Jesus” anticipates all that this newborn would one day accomplish.
4. The Name Above All Names
Westerners don’t often put the same value on names as other cultures. In a traditional Jewish setting, your name carried far more weight than merely being a term others could use to address you or get your attention. Your name serves to signify your person, that is, who and what you are. In all honesty, I am somewhat glad this isn’t the case for Americans since my name, “Bradley,” stems from an Old English term for a “broad meadow” or “clearing,” which isn’t exactly inspiring. The names of God, however, are brimming with meaning, each one illustrating a unique facet of his person and character.
He is El Shaddai, which means “God Almighty.”
He is Jehovah Jireh or “Yahweh provides.”
He is Jehovah Rapha; “Yahweh heals.”
He is Jehovah Yisha; “Yahweh saves.”
It is this last name that is given to the Son of God when he comes down to be “born of the Virgin Mary.”
“Jesus,” you see, is simply the Greek version of the Hebrew name “Jehovah Yisha” or “Yahweh saves.” “The name,” R. C. H. Lenski says in his commentary on Matthew, “is descriptive, embracing the entire saving work of God’s Son.”1 This is who Mary was carrying; this is who was born on a cold night in Bethlehem — namely, the one in whom was found the sum and substance of Jehovah’s prerogative to save the world. “Our God, the only true and living God,” John Bombaro writes, “is the only means of salvation for humanity and the earth itself. He does not merely facilitate salvation, He is ‘salvation’ itself.” This is who Jesus is. He descends from heaven, “bringing salvation for all people” through his person and work.
Although we might nod in agreement and smile with excitement to hear these details told and retold, we shouldn’t let our familiarity with Christmas and the story of Jesus’s birth lead us to gloss over what all of this means. This is where Paul’s words to Titus are so immensely helpful since the salvation that Jesus comes to bring about has nothing to do with “works done by us,” goodness seen in us, or hospitality shown by us (Titus 3:4–7). Unlike the story of Philemon and Baucis, God isn’t moved to show mercy to us because of some intrinsic virtue in us. Indeed, that is not what propelled him to save us. He didn’t take on flesh and come down to where we are because of some quality we possessed or because we somehow made it on the “nice list.” Rather, as Paul says, this is all “according to his own mercy” and compassionate concern for us, despite the wretchedness of our sins. “He in grace undertook our salvation,” H. A. Ironside proclaims. “He in infinite kindness reached down to where we were.”2
When the Son of God appears, he comes to embody God’s pity for “the last, the least, the lost, the little, and the dead,” as Robert Capon puts it.3 He shows up for the worst of us, which is all of us. He comes to demonstrate the depths of God’s redeeming and transforming grace, even for those who rejected him and turned away from him. The good news of salvation from sin and deliverance from darkness is a gift that Christ comes to give — a gift, we learn, that is encompassed in Christ himself (Titus 2:13). It is through him alone that we are rescued, redeemed, justified, and accepted. It is only by the Son of God appearing where we are and giving himself up to die in our place that we are saved. The giving of salvation necessarily involves the giving of himself:
For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many. (Mark 10:45)
For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. (John 3:16)
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave himself for our sins to deliver us from the present evil age. (Gal. 1:3–4)
Waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works. (Titus 2:13–14)
5. A Season of Salvation and Transformation
This is what Advent is supposed to bring to mind; this is what makes Christmas “Christmas” — namely, the announcement that “the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people.” “Christmas,” Alexander Maclaren once said, “celebrates not merely the birth of a man: but the Incarnation of a God.”4 This whole season is meant as a gift for the church to be reminded of the gift of salvation that Jesus brings — salvation that is realized precisely because our Savior puts the needs of the whole world before his own. He saw the predicament of man and considered it his own. He took our hopeless plight on himself, acquainting himself with our grief, bearing all our sorrows, and feeling all our afflictions to the point where he was “crushed for our iniquities” (Isa. 53:3–5). This he did all so that sorry sinners like you and me could be delivered from sin and death and remade into his image. “Christ assumed our flesh not to provide an object lesson of divine attributes,” John C. Clark and Marcus Peter Johnson attest, “but to participate as God in our humanity, redeeming and remaking us, so that the life of God might be imaged in the life of Christ’s body and bride, the church.”5
“The grace of God has appeared” not only to save us but also to transform us (Titus 2:12). Those who are saved by grace are also changed by grace — they are regenerated and renewed by Christ’s Spirit to walk, talk, and act in the fullness of the grace that is freely given to them and “poured out . . . through Jesus Christ” (Titus 3:5–6). The behavior of the redeemed is transformed by the very grace that redeems them. “This is what God’s saving grace does for us,” R. C. H. Lenski says in his commentary on Titus, “it educates and trains us in the new life. No greater Christmas gift could be given to bless us.”6 The Christ of God has arrived in “flesh and blood” to show the world how deeply he cares for us, so much so that he will stop at nothing in order to redeem you and make you his, even if that means going to the cross for you. This is what Christmas is all about: it is about salvation, those who are desperate for it, and the God who comes down to make it all possible. The lights, tinsel, garland, and presents all pale in comparison to the “unspeakable gift,” which is Christ the Lord born, crucified, and resurrected for you. Christmas is not only about a cradle in Bethlehem, but it’s also about a cross outside Jerusalem where salvation was won for us.
R. C. H. Lenski, The Interpretation of St. Matthew’s Gospel (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg, 1964), 49.
H. A. Ironside, Addresses on the First and Second Epistles of Timothy (New York: Loizeaux Bros., 1951), 271.
Robert Capon, The Parables of Grace (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1996), 91–92.
Alexander Maclaren, Expositions of Holy Scripture, Vols. 1–17 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1944), 15:1.143.
John C. Clark and Marcus Peter Johnson, The Incarnation of God: The Mystery of the Gospel as the Foundation of Evangelical Theology (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2015), 44.
R. C. H. Lenski, The Interpretation of St. Paul’s Epistles to the Colossians, to the Thessalonians, to Timothy, to Titus, and to Philemon (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg, 1961), 921.