The Convergence of Contrasts In Christ

Happy Easter, Dear Friend.

I do sincerely hope that this message is reaching you in sound health and peace of mind. I am pretty sure that by now you have been bombarded by broadcasts on WhatsApp, fatigued by friends on Facebook and other platforms about the death of Jesus Christ and all that it signifies.  Well, that’s good – if you read them. For my part, however, I want to talk to you about something unique in the life of Christ; something that overturned the cultural paradigm in antiquity and changed the course of history. Forever.

I am unashamedly Christian. I have my failings but my Christ is perfect and goes beyond the scope of religion. Perhaps, that explains the answer Mahatma Gandhi gave to the famed missionary, E. Stanley Jones, when asked about why he quoted Christ so often but so adamantly rejected becoming His follower.

“Oh, I don't reject Christ” he answered. “I love Christ. It's just that so many of you Christians are so unlike Christ.”

Even the erudite skeptic, W.E.H Lecky, acknowledged that Christ rises above all others.

The character of Jesus has not only been the highest pattern of virtue, but the longest incentive in its practice, and has exerted so deep an influence, that it may be truly said that the simple record of three short years of active life has done more to regenerate and to soften mankind than all the disquisitions of philosophers and all the exhortations of moralists. 

Wow. Wow. Wow. I have always wondered what could inspire such words from Gandhi and Lecky. With time, it has become clear to me that it was the convergence of contrasts that confront us in the character of Christ. An attempt at explaining it is too colossal for my courage and arduous for my articulacy so allow me to borrow the poem by James Stewart, the Scottish theologian on the Person of Jesus. Here we go:

He was the meekest and lowliest of all the sons of men, yet he spoke of coming on the clouds of heaven with the glory of God. He was so austere that evil spirits and demons cried out in terror at his coming, yet he was so genial and winsome and approachable that the children loved to play with him, and the little ones nestled in his arms. His presence at the innocent gaiety of a village wedding was like the presence of sunshine.

No one was half so compassionate to sinners, yet no one ever spoke such red-hot scorching words about sin. A bruised reed he would not break, his whole life was love, yet on one occasion he demanded of the Pharisees how they ever expected to escape the damnation of hell. He was a dreamer of dreams and a seer of visions, yet for sheer stark realism, He has all of our stark realists soundly beaten. He was a servant of all, washing the disciples’ feet, yet masterfully He strode into the temple, and the hucksters and moneychangers fell over one another to get away from the mad rush and the fire they saw blazing in His eyes.

He saved others, yet at the last Himself He did not save. There is nothing in history like the union of contrasts which confronts us in the gospels. The mystery of Jesus is the mystery of divine personality.

Isn’t that great? He died but He is never referred to as The Late.

Let the Spirit of Easter stay with you. Let others see Christ in you.

Peace.