by Steven Wyatt

God, who is the Word, became flesh (John 1:14). John did not say Jesus became a man, although he clearly did. Neither did he say Jesus became human or took on a physical body (statements that are also true). Instead John used a much stronger term to describe how Jesus embraced humanity: he “became flesh.”

He didn’t merely pretend to be human or beam down by way of some Scotty-from-Star-Trek vaporized entrance. Neither did he possess someone else’s flesh. “The Word,” John simply says, “became flesh.”

The Importance of ‘And’
We’re told why he did it that way with a single-syllable, yet eternally significant word: “and.”

And . . . what? “The word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.”

God wasn’t playing a game of cosmic hide-and-seek. He didn’t set the world in motion and then go backpacking in some impact crater on the backside of Mars. He “became flesh and made his dwelling among us.”

The phrase literally means “tabernacled.” Jesus set up his earthly camp among us and did so by becoming, essentially, a human tent.

I camped a lot as a kid. But not in one of those silver-bullet contraptions; my family used an old-fashioned six-person canvas tent. Here’s what I learned about life behind the tent flaps:

You see stuff. If it’s dark outside and you’re dressing inside? Unless you douse your flashlight, whatever you’re doing on the inside shines through to whoever’s watching on the outside.

You hear stuff. Snoring from three tents away comes to mind.

You smell stuff. Fish frying, S’mores oozing, and soggy socks mildewing.

You even taste stuff and feel stuff that uniquely relate to living inside a tent.

Making Himself Known
So when the Creator of the universe decided to drop by our planet, why did he expose himself to such unbridled scrutiny?

He could have built an imposing castle surrounded by a moat filled with scathing-hot lava—complete with security cameras, barbed wire, and a huge privacy wall. But instead of an inaccessible fortress, Jesus threw up a tent.

He did that because he wanted us to see stuff and to know stuff about him—his character and preferences, his thoughts and perspectives. Jesus came to be seen and to be known because he knew everything we’d learn about him would push us back to knowing God.

That’s the message of this verse: God wanted to be known, so he came here and camped in a tent in the person of Jesus.

So what do we know about God because we’ve seen through Jesus’ tent?

The two biggest things we know are also mentioned in verse 14: “We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14, emphasis added).

John underscores it even more powerfully: “For the law was given through Moses; [but] grace and truth came through Jesus Christ” (John 1:17).

Grace and Truth
His point? The law is important, but grace and truth are essential. That’s why when Jesus came, he didn’t perch on some lofty mountain or preach exclusively from the safe environs of the temple. He came wrapped in flesh. He set up his tent so we could see him, touch him, feel him, and know him.

And what did we see as we saw him? Grace and truth.

In Jesus “we have seen . . . truth.” He didn’t just speak truth, although everything he ever said is true. He declared truth. When Jesus said, “a time is coming” (see John 4:23, 5:25, 28, 16:25, 32), mark it down; the time came.

When he said, “Destroy this temple, and I will raise it again in three days” (2:19), he did exactly that three days after he died.

The truth of Jesus extends beyond the words he spoke to include his power over created things, his ability to command demons, his accurate handling of the law—even the skillful way he responded to his accusers. Everything about Jesus screamed truth. Objective truth. Measurable truth. Undeniable truth.

John says the fullness of truth came through Jesus (1:17). We saw God’s glow from inside his tent and watched as he unveiled what is truly there, not just what we hope might be there. He stripped away every façade, every illusion, every phony thing.

He even claimed to be truth personified. “I am . . . the truth” (14:6). Take a look behind his flaps and it’s obvious: Any other truth but Jesus is fake, fantasy, flawed . . . it is a fraud.

But the second thing we see in Jesus is even bigger.

Truth is big, but truth exists to lead us somewhere. And the place where truth leads us is a place called grace—the greatness of God’s unlimited favor toward undeserving sinners.

Loved By God
Which means, among other things, that God loves you right now, right as you are. It may sound passé, but it’s not! Many people walk around in bondage because they don’t understand the monumental truth of God’s grace.

For some, the thought that God might actually love you makes you instantly shift into a forward-only gear. So that maybe, at some point in the future, grace might be true. When some future and vastly improved version of you gets unpacked, then you might imagine God deciding it’s worth it to love you.

But grace says it’s not a future you God loves; it’s the messy, current you. The inconsistent, say-this-but-do-that you. That’s the “you” God loves.

Not because you have an impressive resume. Not because you’re well connected. Not because your track record is freakishly free from sludge. God loves you simply because he wants to love you. Jesus pitched his tent among us so we could see the shocking reality of his grace.

A woman let down her hair and sobbed (because of her messy life) so that her tears drenched Jesus’ feet. A religious insider, disgusted by the scene, said, “If this man {Jesus} were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and . . . that she is a sinner” (Luke 7:39).

How did Jesus respond? “‘You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears. . . . You did not give me a kiss . . . this woman . . . has not stopped kissing my feet’ . . . . Jesus said to her, ‘Your sins are forgiven’” (vv. 44-48).

A crook also saw him. Yet Jesus not only spoke with Zacchaeus, he went to his house for dinner—with a grace so breathtaking, angry religious bigots muttered sarcastically, “Jesus went to be the guest of a sinner” (19:7).

Peter denied Jesus, yet Jesus selected Peter to preach the church’s first gospel message.

The thief on the cross was Hell-bent and hung-out-to-die one minute, Heaven-bound and forever forgiven the next.

I challenge you to find even one soul who came to Jesus seeking grace who walked away empty-handed!

Knowing Him
Search the pages. Read the accounts. Stop parroting what you think somebody else once said about Jesus and look at the canvas he threw up for you.

Look at him. See him. Come to know him.

Because the best-kept secret of the gospel—that’s actually no secret at all—is that Jesus accepts you and deeply loves you. Completely. Fully. Without hesitation or reservation.

And it’s all because God’s tent glowed with limitless grace. Nothing you can do will ever make him love you any less or any more than he already does.

Jesus set up camp in our backyard, enabling us to see and know that he is truth personified and that he is, always and forever, all about grace.

A friend of mine is filming a documentary based on one breathtaking question: “What would you do, hypothetically, if God really did come down to rescue us from our brokenness—then after rescuing us offered us a free gift with no strings attached?”

Some Christians might say high-minded stuff like, “I would serve him with everything I’ve got!” “I’d study him.” “I’d work hard to be like him, to live every day for him!”

But Jesus pitched his tent among us so we wouldn’t go there. If you respond to grace and truth by scrambling to do a whole pile of spiritual stuff in grateful response for God’s free gift, you’re trying to purchase what was never for sale. You’re trying to earn what could never be deserved. You’re trying to repay a kindness that was never on loan.

My friend, however, found one young man who, although a self-proclaimed atheist, got it. After being assured that the proposition was purely hypothetical (therefore he wasn’t committing himself to anything), the young man said, “If there really was a God who came down to rescue me from my brokenness, who then gave me a free gift with no strings attached, I suppose I would say, ‘Thank you.’”

And that’s it—the only response that makes sense to a God who chose to live in a tent. And who did it so we could see and know that God is both undiminished grace and undiluted truth.

The only response is to stop rushing around trying to prove truth or earn grace and say instead, “Thank you.”

Steve Wyatt is a freelance writer in Phoenix, Arizona.

Camp Out with Jesus

Steven pointed out that Jesus came and set up his tent so he (and therefore God) could be seen and known by people—by us.

During the Easter season we remember Jesus’ death and resurrection. How about trying a new perspective this year?

Use a visual aid to help you consider what it truly meant for God to reveal himself in the tent of Jesus. Put up your own tent!

If you have space, put up a tent in your backyard. Or put up a small tent inside your house or perhaps inside your Sunday school room at church. During your personal quiet time or while you are with your family or with your small group, get inside the tent. Then:

• Consider what you can see, hear, smell, taste, and feel when you camp. What is your favorite part of camping? What is your least favorite part?

• Read John 1. How does it change the way you look at God by thinking of Jesus as camping out among human beings? How does Jesus being human help you see God? What do you learn about God from Jesus?

• Draw or write something that will remind you of the grace you can see through Jesus becoming flesh and dwelling among us.