This world, fleeting as it seems, is laced with threads of eternity. You’ve felt them, haven’t you? Moments
when your heart aches for justice that hasn’t arrived. When goodness captures your attention and holds it
tight. When beauty stops you in your tracks and holds you breathless. Or when you sense a purpose pulling
you upward out of the mundane, as if a still and small voice whispers, “There’s more.” These aren’t just
passing feelings—they’re the fingerprints of heaven, traces of eternity breaking into our everyday lives.
All these loose threads find their meaning in the story of Jesus. Almighty God, the Creator of the stars
and the sculptor of the seas, stepped out of eternity and into time. He left heaven and entered our earthly
existence. He didn’t just visit us in a dream or send a memo from on high. No, He walked among us in the
person of Jesus Christ. And who is Jesus? He isn’t a fable or some mythological creature, part god, part
man. He is fully God and fully human. He is God being man.
But let’s not overlook how specific He is. Jesus isn’t God becoming “Everyman” or a vague ideal. He is
God becoming a particular man: Jesus of Nazareth. Mary’s boy. The carpenter with calloused hands. The
teacher who ate with outcasts and touched the untouchables. The man who endured a whip, a crown
of thorns, and a cruel cross between two thieves. This is the God who made Himself known—not from a
distance, but in the dust, sweat and particularity of human life in a fallen world.
And when this man, resurrected and glorified, ascended to heaven, He didn’t disappear like a vapor at
50,000 feet. No, Jesus, still fully human, entered the very life of the Trinity. Imagine it—one of us, a human
being, now sits at the center of eternity. The conscience that upholds the cosmos, turns out, is a human
conscience in Him.
This changes everything. The world isn’t random or empty. More than atoms bouncing together; it’s alive
with God’s grandeur, as Gerard Manley Hopkins said: “The world is charged with the grandeur of God. It will
flame out, like shook foil.” In Christ, this grandeur becomes a shout, not a whisper.
Through Jesus, heaven and earth meet. His incarnation and ascension tell us that human life—your life,
my life—matters infinitely. Every act of kindness, every mercy extended, every time you listen to the voice
of conscience, you participate in this divine mystery. Creation becomes a stage for God’s glory, and we’re
invited to step into the story, to live lives full of purpose, drawn into communion with the God who walked
among us.
Maranatha, Jordy
