The Word Became Flesh

Before the first bird sang, before the first wave broke on the first shore, before time itself had a name, there was the Word. John does not begin his Gospel with a manger or a miracle. He begins before the beginning. "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." If that sentence lands on you like a stone dropped into still water, good. Let the ripples move.

For a first-time reader, here is the key: John calls Jesus "the Word", in Greek, the Logos, a title that would have stopped both Jewish and Greek readers in their tracks. To the Jewish mind, the Word of God was the very power by which creation was spoken into existence. To the Greek thinker, the Logos was the ordering principle behind all reality. John looks at both audiences and says: the one you have been reaching for, the one you have been reasoning toward, He has a name, and He became flesh.

That phrase, "the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us", is the hinge on which all of human history swings. The eternal stepped into the temporary. The infinite wore skin. He did not send a message; He became one. And John, who knew Jesus personally, who had eaten with Him and walked dusty roads beside Him, says this with the quiet certainty of a man who has seen it with his own eyes: "we beheld his glory."

For the seasoned believer, sit here a moment longer. Notice that the Word was not only with God, He was toward God, face to face, in an eternal relationship of love before anything else existed. The salvation He brings is not a transaction invented in a crisis. It flows from a fellowship that always was. You were loved before the world had a reason to love you.

Today, wherever you find yourself, new to these pages or worn comfortable with them, the invitation is the same. The light still shines. The darkness has not overcome it. And the Word is still reaching toward you.