The Bible provides a startling array of portraits of Jesus. Perhaps that is no surprise. When considering the incarnate Son of God, the second person of the Trinity, there is plenty for us to know.
Recently, at Christmas, our gaze was directed to the manger. We see Jesus in astonishing humility. Our God incarnate. Made known in human form. A revelation so counter-intuitive that it is, in Charles Wesley’s wonderfully words, the Godhead ‘veiled in flesh’. The baby is fragile, vulnerable so that the incarnation hints at sacrifice from the very beginning. God puts himself in our place and it is a place full of danger and threat.
But some of the other portrayals of Jesus could not be more different. One that has captured my attention recently is the transfiguration (Matthew 17:1-13). Three disciples accompany Jesus up the mountain where they witness a revelation of the glory of Christ, accompanied by a word from heaven, that leaves them terrified in the dust.
This isn’t Jesus in the vulnerability of the manger; it is Jesus in the majesty of his kingdom (Matthew 16:28). His face, Matthew tells us, shone like the sun. I take it that means it was too bright to look at. The sort of brightness that would burn out your retina if you steadied your gaze upon it. In Exodus 34, up another mountain, Moses’ face also shone. But his was a reflected glory. Like the moon, Moses had no light of his own, but simply illumination that was reflected from elsewhere. Jesus, however, is the Light – the source of glory itself. Like the sun, he is the one from whom all illumination comes.
A vision and a voice
The voice from heaven has two things to say. First there is a declaration about the relationship between Father and Son: ‘This is my Son, whom I love…’. A voice speaking from heaven is a rare event in the gospel accounts – just three are recorded –and they rightly hold our attention. These words tell us that at the centre of reality – and from all eternity – there exists a relationship of love. God has ever been in Trinitarian fellowship. Love is the heartbeat of our universe and love must be the hallmark of Christ’s disciples and Christ’s church.
Then, a second phrase comes – ‘Listen to him!’ – which cannot fail to direct our attention to the very next words that Jesus speaks. The terrified disciples are face down on the ground fearing, not unreasonably, that this encounter with the divine cloud and the divine voice may be the end of them. But Jesus came and touched them. ‘Get up,’ he said. ‘Don’t be afraid’ (v7). The grace of the gospel is found in those words. In the face of the holiness and glory of God, the disciples cannot even stand. Yet, Jesus brings grace. A personal touch. A comforting word. And after the touch of grace comes what seems almost like an anticipation of the relationship every believer finds in Christ – ‘When they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus’ (v8). As if, now, they only have eyes for him.
A vision and our troubles
Such a vision speaks to all sorts of people in so many different conditions of life.
To the anxious, it speaks a word of comfort. A reassuring touch. The promise of his presence. ‘Get up from your fearfulness. I am here. And in my mighty power and with my glorious presence, I bring comfort – don’t be afraid.’ When we understand the might of Jesus but simultaneously understand his grace and gentleness we are comforted. The one on our side is mighty – he can deal with the things that terrify us. But he is also gentle – and his words remind us that he longs to bring comfort to the fearful.
To the proud, this vision of Christ humbles us. The unruly rebel is put in their place. Our presumed self-importance and self-centredness is exposed for the folly that it is. There is one who deserves honour and glory and whose will should always prevail. But that person is not us. When we see Christ in glory, see him come in his kingdom, we remember that the kingdom that matters is his and not ours.
To the busy, this vision settles us. Earlier, Peter had offered a contribution: ‘Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters – one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah’ (v3). Luke’s account adds that ‘[Peter] did not know what he was saying’ (Luke 9:33). We so desperately want to contribute to our own salvation. We want to play our part. And even here, faced with Christ’s glory, Peter wants to work out what he might have to offer. Jesus has done all that is needed for us to rise up and share in his glory. It puts our busyness in perspective.
To the sad, this vision speaks of Christ drawn near. He touches us. There is something deeply personal in that touch. His gospel word is not spoken at a distance. It is not the promise of a distant deity as if grace were dispensed as a legal formula. When we come to Christ, we feel his touch. He is not just with us, but also for us. He meets us in our despair and, wonderfully, ‘is not ashamed to call [us] brothers and sisters’ (Hebrews 2:11).
When Philip told Nathanael he had found ‘the one Moses wrote about in the Law and about whom the prophets also wrote’ Nathanael was unconvinced (John 1:45). So, Philip offered the ultimate solution: ‘come and see’, he said (v46). It remains the wisest of advice – the biblical visions of Jesus are always good for us.
