Victory Shout

Sing a new song to the LORD, for he has done wonderful deeds. His right hand has won a mighty victory; his holy arm has shown his saving power!

Psalm 98:1

How stunning a victory our God has won for us, overcoming sin and death in the person and work of Jesus. Born a helpless babe, he stormed the enemy’s camp and then administered the coup de grâce, the deathblow to the enemy, delivered when his crucifixion gave way to resurrection.

Only he could have devised and then implemented such a plan. Only God could have found the way for heaven to invade earth, not through force or might but through a tiny baby. On that holy night in Bethlehem, the Babe cooed and cried and nursed at Mary’s breast. His hands, which would one day feel the tear of nails, curled around her finger. His feet, which would be pierced for my transgressions, kicked the air in the awkwardness of infancy. His head, which would be gouged by thorns, lay peacefully in Mary’s arms.

His birth was barely a ripple in the course of humankind’s doings, yet he came and changed the balance of power for all eternity. With a battle shout that sounded to earthly ears like a newborn baby’s cry, he set in motion our redemption. The sound heard in the heavens that first Christmas moment was one of victory that rattled the enemy’s forces and ensured their defeat.

Without him, my thoughts were entangled by the dictates of my flesh. They poisoned and polluted my life. They were infused with the stench of death, corruption, and decay and marched steadily toward the grave.

Then Incarnate Word came to set my captive thoughts free and to captivate my restless mind and anchor it in him.

I was death’s child, sin’s slave. A mind managed by my flesh. No future but the grave. Until you, Jesus. Thank you for recasting my thoughts into the mold of yours. Teach me how to receive that gift in its fullness. Make me so pliable that my thoughts and intents are reflective of your life in me.

The Son of God has been poured into us, and we have received him, and appropriated him. What a heartful Jesus must be, for heaven itself cannot contain him!

Charles Haddon Spurgeon(1834–1892), English preacher and writer