The Rejectable God--December 31, 2025

The Rejectable God--December 31, 2025

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it.... The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world came into being through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him." (John 1:5, 10-11)

God chooses to be, for lack of a better word, rejectable.

That's one of those notions which look simple at first blush, but which turns out to be utterly mind-blowing if you give it even a moment's thought. God--whom we often subtitle with words like "Almighty" or "Omnipotent"--choose to run the risk that we, who are God's creations and constantly dependent on God for our existence, will say "No" to God's good intentions and refuse to accept God's coming near.  

If that's how an all-powerful God acts, then we either have to radically reconsider what we mean by true power, or we may want to take up with a different deity. After all, conventional wisdom thinks that being powerful means demanding that you get your own way.  When you hear people at podiums shouting about being seen as "strong" and "tough," they tend to mean steamrolling over those who stand in your way, ignoring those who disagree, or silencing those who say "No" to your agenda.  When you hear authoritarian leaders describing their regimes as "powerful" and "great," they tend to mean pushing others around, getting rid of opponents who reject them, and taking by force what they want. God, on the other hand, chooses to be strong in a different way.  God's way of being God, so to speak, knowingly comes into a world that is going to reject God.  And God does it anyway.

That's the scandal of the Christian message. And yet, you can't say that John the Gospel-writer hides it in the fine print. Here in the opening verses of his telling of the story of Jesus, John begins with this poem describing Christ as both the "light" that shines in the darkness without being snuffed out, and at the same time, as the one who "came to what was his own, and his own people rejected him."  This is the paradox: Christ is the One by whom the world was made--and yet the same world didn't recognize or receive Christ. God took the risk of becoming rejectable in Christ Jesus, and we did precisely that: we rejected him.

The fact that John tells us this from the get-go means that both John the storyteller and Jesus, the very Word of God in flesh, know that this story is headed toward a cross.  We reject Jesus all the way to the point of killing him--and in him, we are rejecting God. God, of course, knows this already, and bears the pain of it.  God knows, not just from late on Maundy Thursday, or from Christmas night, that there are nails and a crown of thorns waiting--but from before "Let there be light..." and ever since.  And yet, God chose to be rejectable all the same.  That is God's kind of power. That is God's sort of strength.

We should probably be clear about that so that we can be honest about the kind of community we belong to if we are Jesus' followers.  We aren't joining forces with the biggest bully on the block in the hopes of getting the spoils when he pushes other people around.  We are disciples of the One who knew the world would reject him--and loved the world anyway.  We are children of the God who doesn't force, threaten, or intimidate the world into accepting God's presence or plans, but rather bears our defiance and temper tantrums with patient strength.  That's the family to which we belong. That's how we are called to love, too.

Once we hear John's opening description of what happens in Jesus' coming, we can't be the same anymore. And we can no longer be comfortable with the old strategies of bullies and authoritarians who impose their whims on others.  That is simply not compatible with the way of Jesus--which, as John keeps insisting, is the way of God.

Today, how might we be called to wield the power, not of cajoling or forcing others to do what we want, but to risk rejection and love anyway?

That, it turns out, is just the kind of love the world needs--even if it doesn't know it.

Lord Jesus, keep us from rejecting you any longer, and make us to love with your kind of enduring strength.