The Glorious and Dreadful Good News

“And he came into all the district around the Jordan, preaching a baptism of repentance for forgiveness of sins;” Luke 3.3

My favourite photographs are black and white. With cheerful and distracting colours removed, the eyes are able to see texture, lines, and connections dancing between light and shadow, which could not be noticed otherwise.

Like a black and white photo, the gospel is composed of great and stark contrasts, yet perfectly unified. It is both glorious and dreadful.

The Gospel of Luke begins with happy narratives of angels who make several appearances to announce good news. The first two chapters record the wonder and joy of miraculous births for both Elizabeth and Mary. We find shepherds, sent by a host of angels, eagerly seeking out a newborn baby. We learn of the fulfilled anticipation of a righteous few, like Simeon and Anna, who were awaiting the Messiah’s arrival. The first two chapters of Luke brim with excitement and rejoicing.

Then, chapter three hits like a tonne of bricks as John the Baptist enters stage left heralding his strange and challenging message.

John was a wild looking fellow who lived in the wilderness and wore an outfit of camel hair with a leather belt around his waist. His food of choice was locusts and honey. Full of fiery intensity and the Holy Spirit, he began to preach “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” Needless to say, he drew the attention of many onlookers.

He heralded “Prepare the way!”—clear the way for the Messiah who is coming. He wasn’t buttering anyone up with smooth words. Rather he called the curious crowds a “brood of vipers”.

He warned of the wrath to come; he reckoned his hearer’s religious lives to fruitless trees which will be cut down and thrown into the fire. He warned of One who was coming who was mightier than he, who would baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire. This Messiah would separate the holy from the unholy, gathering his own people to Himself and tossing the unholy into an unquenchable fire.

This is the message John proclaimed and exhorted to the crowds. It’s not at all like the message proclaimed by the angels in chapters one and two – peace on earth, glory to God.

How can these contrasts be reconciled? 

Peace and wrath? Glory and unquenchable fire? Helpless baby in a manger and a mighty One ushering in wrath? Savior and judge? Good news and bad news?

Yes. 

The Messiah is all of these perfectly and continuously. No, He is not a bi-polar, unstable, tyrant; He is an all-knowing, all-powerful, all-present Creator who loves His rebellious, self-destructive creatures so much that He acted to rescue them from His just, but fierce, wrath. 

Perfect love requires perfect justice.

Without bad news there is no good news. 

It takes both light and dark shadows to create a beautiful black and white image.

The good news is that there is One who humbled Himself by leaving the glory of heaven to become man, an infant, of the dust of the earth—can we let that reality settle in for a minute? He is the omnipotent Creator of everything. He willingly became a helpless infant, dependent upon a mother and father, whose breath and heartbeat were in His very hand. He came to walk amidst the darkness of fallen mankind as the Light of the World. Why? Because He loves us with an love so deep and we cannot comprehend it.

It is He who tenderly calls us to Himself.

This same One is coming again in glory and power on his white war horse, with the armies of heaven on the great and dreadful day of the Lord. He will judge the living and the dead for what they have done with the One given for them, namely Himself.

Those who have made peace with Him before that day, will be brought home to eternal glory. These will see him face to face, and be welcomed with a greeting of unfathomable love and gentleness, “Well done, good and faithful servant, enter into your father’s glory.” 

Those who reject His terms of peace will find themselves not so well off. After hearing the dreadful words, “Away from me, you evildoers, I never knew you,” these will be cast into the lake of eternal, unquenchable fire. (It’s a hard truth, I know, but His mercy is extended even now.)

The gospel is glorious and dreadful. The stark contrast in the opening chapters of Luke sparks a fear of the Lord within the astute reader; and this is a good thing. After all, the fear of the Lord is the beginning of true wisdom. 

If you haven’t yet, will you accept His terms of peace this new year?