Our righteous, suffering King came to be crushed and made a grief offering in order to count sinful people like us righteous (v. 10–11). Jesus was numbered with the transgressors and bore the sins of many in order to intercede for us before God (v.12). Our mighty King will indeed make kings shut their mouths (Isa. 52:15). Yet, he also came to quiet the hearts of those who are longing for mercy, justice, and peace. God has heard our sighs and groans that are too deep for Words. We have a Savior who entered into our sinful world in order to free us from the guilt and pain of sin.

The words “Christmas” and “Advent” hearken many memories. In one moment, we picture solemn evening worship services with candles, hymns, and Scripture reading. In another moment, we envision Christmas dinner parties, gifts, and cozy treats. We may also imagine a sweet little baby in a manger being cuddled by his mother as the shepherds come to pay homage. As grandparents travel cross-country or across county lines to see their grandchildren, memories are made during the Advent season. For many, these are the reasons Christmas is considered to be the most wonderful time of the year.
Focusing on the spiritual meaning of Advent, another common image is that of a coming King. We sing, “Joy to the world, the Lord is come, let earth receive her King!” And rightfully so. The Scriptures teach that God would send a great King to lead his people. We rejoice in the majesty and glory King Jesus brought with him as he entered the darkness to shine as a beacon for the nations. We celebrate his grandeur and mighty power as we should. Yet, we would be equally blessed to celebrate his humility.
Our King came in rags.
The King and His Coming
“Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” is a beloved song that reminds us to bring “glory to the newborn King.” The newborn in that manger is the King of whom God said, “I have set my King on Zion, my holy hill” (Ps. 2:6). Though the kings and rulers of the nations rage and take counsel together against God and his people, God laughs. He laughs because, like the stereotypical school bully, these kings and rulers don’t realize there’s someone bigger and stronger around the corner. They haven’t eaten their spinach, but they think they’re Popeye. God has a terrifying word to speak: “I have set my King in Zion.”
This King—the one and only eternal Son of God—has the whole creation as his inheritance, and he perfectly reigns as God’s King (John 3:31–36). Jesus will break and dash to pieces all the kings, rulers, and nations who oppose him (Ps. 2:9). Yet, God has not left them without an opportunity to repent. He has given us all the opportunity to serve him with fear, rejoice with trembling, kiss the Son, and take refuge in Him. Blessed are all who take refuge in him (Ps. 2:12).
The promise of refuge in Christ is a joyous gift from God. We need refuge from the injustices around us. We need refuge from the corruption in a world that is groaning and decaying. Most importantly, we need refuge from God’s wrath toward the sin inside us. That’s when such a promise can seem so distant from us. Sure, God can save others, but not me. My life is too messy. I fail too often. My sin runs too deep. We are often well-acquainted with our sin, so we wonder if such a majestic King would ever stoop low enough to reach someone like us.
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The world is groaning, we are groaning, but God is protecting us, forging our faith on the anvil of affliction because of his love for us and because of a passion for his own glory. Charles Spurgeon once said that God’s sovereignty is a doctrine for rough weather; “God Moves” is a hymn for stormy days, and there are many such days in a fallen world.

God Moves in a Mysterious Way  by William CowperGod moves in a mysterious way, his wonders to perform; he plants his footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm.Deep in unfathomable mines, of never-failing skill; he fashions up his bright designs, and works his sovereign will.Ye fearful saints fresh courage take, the clouds that you much dread, are big with mercy and will break in blessings on your head.Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, but trust him for his grace; behind a frowning providence, he hides a smiling face.His purposes will ripen fast, unfolding every hour; the bud may have a bitter taste, but sweet will be the flower.Blind unbelief is sure to err, and scan his work in vain; God is his own interpreter, and he will make it plain.
I love this hymn for the same reason I love Romans 8 and country music. I’m not talking about modern-day country music, the kind that is slick and well-packaged, the sort that is merely countrified pop music. By country music, I mean Hank (Senior), Cash, Jones, the Hag. Legends, all, whose lives were marked by the profound suffering and searching of which they sang. They were not dime store cowboys and neither was the author of “God Moves in a Mysterious Way.”
In some ways, the British poet William Cowper is to classic, Reformation-tradition hymnody what Hank Williams was to country music: both men perennially suffered deep, dark depression and anguish of soul. Out of their pain, each man wrote deeply emotional, heart-felt poetry that was set to music. Of course, their biographies part ways there: both diagnosed the illness that drove their angst in a deeply fallen world, but only Cowper found the transformative cure, locating his healing balm in the old rugged cross. Sadly, Hank sought solace in the bottom of a whiskey bottle and died of an overdose of alcohol and pain killers at 29. Hank sang “I Saw the Light,” but never seems to have run to it.
Two bruised reeds, two smoking flaxes, two different outcomes, but two men who were unsentimental about the mysteries of life and God’s providence east of Eden. “God Moves” is my favorite for two fundamental reasons: the story of the man behind the lyrics and the robust theology of Romans 8 that it expresses in unforgettable poetry. Every time I sing it in corporate or family worship (and I love the revised tune by Bob Kauflin and our friends at Sovereign Grace Music), I think of its author, and I am strengthened by the grace of which it speaks.
Embattled Soul
John Calvin referred to fallen humanity and the world in which we live as broken actors performing on a broken-down stage. Cowper’s brokenness was as profound as it was palpable. In his excellent biographical essay on the life of William Cowper, John Piper wrote of him, “The battles in this man’s soul were of epic proportions.” Indeed.
Cowper lived from 1731 to 1800, a contemporary to John Wesley and George Whitefield in England and Jonathan Edwards in America. Heartache was his handmaiden virtually from birth. William and his brother John were the only two among seven siblings to survive past infancy. At age 6, his mother died giving birth to John, leaving William deeply distraught. Cowper moved from school to school before landing at Westminster school in 1742 where he was bullied mercilessly by older students. While studying for a career in law as a young adult, he fell in love with his cousin Theodora and sought her hand in marriage. Her father refused to consent to the union and nuptials were never exchanged. Lost love left him crestfallen.
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The first one lays the foundation of our eternal salvation in the free grace of God, as shown to us in the mission of the great Redeemer. The next affirms the double blessedness which we obtain through this salvation—the blessings of the upper and nether springs—of time and of eternity. The third shows one of the duties to which the chosen people are called; we are ordained to suffer for Christ with the promise that “if we suffer, we shall also reign with Him.” The last sets forth the active form of Christian service, bidding us diligently to maintain good works.

11 It is a faithful saying: For if we be dead with him, we shall also live with him: 12 If we suffer, we shall also reign with him: if we deny him, he also will deny us: 13 If we believe not, yet he abideth faithful: he cannot deny himself. 2 Timothy 2:11-13 (KJV) 
It is a blessed thing to mediate on the reality of being in Christ. The enormity of that fact should strike us hard because those who are truly in Christ are those who also know they don’t deserve to be. The miracle of our salvation is incredible and the cost our Savior paid to save us is beyond our understanding.  Spurgeon understood this and wrote about it in today’s devotion from his Morning by Morning.C. H. Spurgeon
“It is a faithful saying.”—2 Timothy 2:11.
Paul has four of these “faithful sayings.” The first occurs in 1 Timothy 1:15, “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” The next is in 1 Timothy 4:6, “Godliness is profitable unto all things, having the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come. This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation.”
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