As a result of the incarnation, the divine Son lives and acts within the normal physical, mental, volitional, and psychological capacities of an unfallen, sinless human nature. As the Son, he experienced the wonder and weaknesses of a human life. He grew in wisdom and physical stature (Luke 2:52), experienced tears and joy (John 11:35; 15:11), and suffered death and a glorious resurrection for his people and their salvation (John 11:33, 35; 19:30; 1 Cor. 15:3–4).

In our final essay for “Christology at Christmas” theme, I want to offer a tenfold summary of key truths for a biblical and orthodox Christology.
1. The person or subject of the incarnation is the eternal, divine Son.
John 1:14 states this well: “The Word became flesh.” In other words, it was not the divine nature, it was the divine Son from eternity (John 1:1) who became incarnate. The Son, who has always been in eternal relation with the Father and the Spirit, and who shares the same, identical divine nature with them, freely chose to humble himself by assuming a human nature in order to redeem his people (Phil. 2:6–8), and to reverse all that Adam did by ushering in a new creation (Col. 1:18–20).
2. As the divine Son, the second person of the triune Godhead, he is the exact image and correspondence of the Father, and is thus truly God.
Along with the Father and Spirit, the Son fully and equally shares the one divine nature. As the image and exact correspondence of the Father (Col. 1:15; Heb. 1:3), the Son is truly God. All of God’s perfections and attributes are his since our Lord is God the Son (Col. 2:9). As the Son, he indivisibly shares the divine rule, receives divine worship, and does all divine works as the Son (Ps 110:1; Eph 1:22; Phil 2:9–11; Col. 1:15–17; Heb. 1:2–3; Rev. 5:11–12).
3. As God the Son, he has always existed in an eternally ordered relation to the Father and the Spirit, which now is gloriously revealed in the incarnation.
It was fitting that the Son alone became incarnate and not the other divine persons (John 1:1–2, 14, 18). In the incarnation, the Son revealed his eternal divine-filial relation to the Father and always acted from the Father and by the Spirit (John 5:19–30; Mark 1:12; Luke 4:1–21). These eternally ordered relations within God are eternal and necessary.

The Father is first, has paternity due to his relation to the Son, and is the one who initiates and sends.
The Son has filiation and is eternally generated from the Father.
The Spirit has spiration and eternally proceeds from the Father and the Son.

In God’s acts, all three persons act inseparably through the one divine nature. Yet each person acts distinctly, with specific actions terminating on the divine persons according to their eternally ordered relations.
The result: every external act of God is one and undivided, yet the Father initiates and acts through the Son, the Son from the Father, and the Spirit from the Father and Son. Thus, from eternity and in the incarnation, the Son never acted independently but always acted in relation to the Father and the Spirit, and he alone became incarnate.
4. The incarnation is an act of addition, not subtraction.
From eternity, the Son, in relation to the Father and the Spirit, subsisted in the divine nature. Now, as a result of the incarnation, the Son, without change or loss of his deity, added—or to use a better term—assumed, a second nature, namely, a human nature consisting of a human body and soul (Phil. 2:6–8). As a result, the Son added a human dimension to his personal divine life and became present to us in a new mode of existence as the incarnate Son. Yet the Son’s subsistence and action in both natures is consistent with the integrity of both, without either nature ever being mutually exclusive of the other. Given the incarnation, the Son is able to act by his two natures and produce effects proper to each nature and thus accomplish our salvation as the divine Son who obeys for us in his life and death as our covenant head and substitute.
5. The human nature assumed by the divine Son is fully human and completely sinless.
Christ’s human nature was unfallen and untainted by the effects of sin. Christ’s human body and soul had all the capacities of original humanity, thus enabling the Son to experience a fully human life.
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Keep turning toward him, whether that process is clumsy, awkward, brief, or a bit chilly. Your soul is close to the breaking point already. The one who now strikes fear in your heart is the only one who can assuage your fears and mend a soul in pieces.

God is sovereign. He does as he pleases. This comforts some people—and terrifies others.
If you have lost a child or a spouse, especially in a sudden or unexpected way, “God scares me to death” might sound familiar. If you have had any close brush with death, this might sound familiar too. You are vulnerable. Images of God as protector are now meaningless. Instead, at any moment, the worst possible event could befall you, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. It might seem that you have already endured his worst and there is nothing of value left to take, but you know there could be other worsts that you cannot even conceive of. God terrifies you.
You are not only terrified of God. You also continue to believe he loves you and is with you by the Spirit. You still believe that nothing will separate you from him. But there is this new place in your heart: God terrifies you. And it has taken up residence. Meanwhile, the people around you do not seem to be particularly terrified of God. If they are, no one is saying so.
For friends. Let’s acknowledge that we are substandard comforters of those who grieve. We might be attentive for the first week after someone we know well has lost a child, but we assume that everyone then moves on. So, today, reach out and say, “my heart still breaks over the loss of your child.” Men, of which I am one, are especially unskilled at this care, both giving it and receiving it.
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It appears that our most bitter political divisions are over what we all truly should consider morally outrageous. This fact helps reveal the artificiality of the political posture of late-stage liberalism: we can’t help but feel morally outraged by the breaking of certain laws because they touch on loyalties that transcend the laws. This fact explains why the laws seem to be interpreted unevenly, especially in the court of public opinion. We long for laws to be interpreted in accordance with that ultimate standard we reverence above all. 

Yoram Hazony carefully and thoughtfully interpreted a recent tweet thread of James Lindsay’s often erratic and vitriolic Twitter feuds with conservative Christians. Hazony points out that Lindsay is convinced that politically engaged, conservative Christians are walking into a trap set for them by the progressive Left. The content of the discourse is instructive for what it reveals about the general character of our regime and the specific strategy being employed against conservative Christians.
Lindsay believes that Christian nationalists are being goaded by the left through increasingly graphic transgressions against Christian sensibilities and pieties by the transgender wing of the LGBTQ+ coalition. The Left’s goal, presumably, is to use symbols and scenes that conservative Christians find morally disturbing in order to activate moral outrage in them that might override their better judgment and lead them to do acts of violence that would justify broad repercussions against the whole Christian Right.
Lindsay is wrong to suggest that the best response is to retreat into a fairytale land of classical liberal moral neutrality. Nevertheless, it’s an interesting thesis because moral outrage is indeed a powerful force embedded in human nature when that nature is operating well. Micah Meadowcroft made this point recently at The American Conservative, when commenting on the LA Dodgers’ decision to honor and platform the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, which is a group of drag queens who get a rise out of mocking traditional Christian symbols, at a ball game dedicated to Pride Month. Meadowcroft writes, “Some things are disgusting, and we should cherish and protect our capacity for disgust.” This point merits a discussion about the nature and role of moral outrage.
The left is morally outraged that Christians consider homosexuality a sin, labeling Christian opposition homophobia. Similarly, Christians are outraged by blatant, public, I dare say, proud, displays of sexual perversion. Obscenity laws are meant to police and protect the moral outrage of the majority of citizens, and the way these laws are enforced reveals exactly what is considered morally acceptable and legitimately morally outrageous.
Okay, so Left and Right differ on what is morally outrageous. What of it? Should not the laws be indifferent with regard to who is internally offended by a particular crime?
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