… for we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are — yet was without sin.” (Heb 4:15)
Lord, we rejoice that you understand our plight, that you were one of us and one with us. We glory in your weakness, for your weakness is power.
Jesus was a man, and because He was a man He can represent you and me. That’s what we discussed last week. Consequently, we who follow Jesus derive much comfort from His humanity, “for we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are — yet was without sin” (Heb 4:15).
People long to have someone understand them, and when we see a person who has been through what we go through, we instantly relate to him. We see that we are not alone. We see a friend.
Corrie Ten Boom is one of my favorite Christians to read about. I would have loved to have sat and had coffee with her and talked for hours. She is so simple and pure and deep all at once. I relish the opportunity to see her in heaven. During World War II, she spent time in a Nazi concentration camp called Ravensbruck. She and her family were put there for hiding Jews and helping them flee the country from the Germans. Though she herself survived the concentration camp, her father and sister did not. She saw hell on earth. After she was released from Ravensbruck, she traveled the world and spoke of God’s love in Christ. One day she spoke in a prison in Ruanda, Africa. She spoke of the joy of the Lord that one can have even in prison, but she knew that many of the inmates were thinking, “After you talk you can go home, away from this stinking prison. It is easy to talk about joy when you are free. But we must stay here” (Tramp For the Lord, 80). She then told the prisoners about Ravensbruck — about roll call at 4:30 AM, about standing in the icy air shivering for three hours, about seeing the woman in front of her getting beaten because she could no longer stand on her feet, about looking at the smokestacks of the furnaces where the prisoners were burned, and about God reminding her of His presence in the midst of all this.
She said, “I looked out at the men who were sitting in front of me. No longer were their faces filled with darkness and anger. They were listening — intently — for they were hearing from someone who had walked where they were now walking.”
This is what Jesus has done by taking on flesh and blood. He has walked where you are now walking. He knows what you struggle with — better than you know it yourself. He became one of us.
This act of Jesus taking on humanity is the greatest sacrifice the world has ever seen. For all the power Jesus had, He chose to voluntarily set aside certain divine rights and become weak. He still had these rights. He simply chose to hide them. He humbled Himself and became obedient unto death, even the death of the Cross (Ph 2:8). It is God’s way. When we are weak, then we are strong (II Cor 12:10). The weakness of God is stronger than the strength of men (I Cor 1:25). When we are weak we are becoming more like Jesus, who emptied Himself in order to take on the form of a man. We see the glory of God more clearly in the sufferings of Christ than we do in all the pomp and power of this world. Unfortunately, most people pursue the pomp and power and never see the glory.
