Listen to the full unabridged audio here: The God Who Moved into the Neighbhorhood
For those of us who follow Jesus, we navigate a fascinating paradox. On one hand, we believe that the God of the Bible is immanent—that He is actively among us and living within us through His Spirit. We read in John 1 about the reality of a God who literally “moved into the neighborhood.”
Yet, we just as frequently talk about His transcendence. He is the Creator God, utterly beyond our comprehension, overwhelming, and infinite. He is God, and we are not.
This creates a beautiful, tricky tension: We can know God truly, but we will never know Him fully. This shouldn’t surprise us; we experience this with people too. I’ve been married for nearly 30 years, and I still haven’t exhausted the fullness of knowing who my wife, Amy, is. If that’s true of a fellow human being, how much more is it true of a divine being?
Moving Past the Cross to the Life
When we ask ourselves, “What has Christ done for me?” our minds almost instantly jump to the crucifixion. If someone stopped you on the street and asked you that question, your immediate response would likely be, “He died for me.” And you’re right. He did.
But before He died for us, He lived for us, and He lived with us.
“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” — John 1:14
This was not a God making distant declarations from a far-off place. The way God decided to bring mercy to the world was by showing up.
In ancient Greek mythology, the gods of Mount Olympus would occasionally take on human form to cause trouble or act capriciously, but they were just pretending. They were puting on an act. What John describes is altogether new: The pre-existent Word, who was God, actually became flesh.
He didn’t just assume a physical disguise. Jesus was a real human being. He experienced the gritty, unglamorous realities of a physical body. To the Greek philosophers of the day, who viewed the physical world as an inferior, secondary reality, this idea was foolishness. To the Jewish people, who deeply revered the absolute holiness and separateness of God, a God walking dusty roads and touching “unclean” people was a massive stumbling block.
Yet, Christ stepped right into our mess anyway.
The Great Undoing of Genesis 3
Consider how John opens his gospel: “In the beginning…” This intentional echo points us straight back to Genesis. Who else did God walk with in the “cool of the day”? Adam and Eve. By coming to live and walk among us, Christ began the radical undoing of what was broken in the Fall. After humanity fell, Adam and Eve hid in their shame and guilt, leaving God to walk alone. But in Christ, the Creator God showed up in an immanent way—in flesh and blood—seeking us out in our neighborhood.
Through His life, death, resurrection, and the subsequent sending of the Holy Spirit, the separation is unraveled. No matter where we go, the God of the universe walks with us again.
Wave After Wave of Grace
John 1:16 tells us, “Out of his fullness, we have all received grace in place of grace already given.” A more literal translation of that phrase is grace upon grace.
Think of it like the ocean. When you stand on the beach, you watch massive, relentless waves roll in. There is never an end to them; they just keep coming, carrying you along.
That is how God’s grace operates. None of us will ever reach a point where God looks at us and says, “I’m sorry, it’s run out. No more grace for you.” In the original language, the verb “received” is in a past tense signifying a finished deal. It is already done. Out of His pleroma—His never-ending, eternally regenerative fullness—Jesus provides an overwhelming flood of love.
Our Response: Go Be Present
If you are like me, you might look in the mirror, take inventory of your flaws, and identify more with Adam and Eve hiding in the bushes than with someone walking with God. You might wonder, “What am I supposed to do with this overwhelming grace?”
The answer is remarkably simple, though we often want to overcomplicate it.
Your calling is to walk out the door and go be present in the world.
There is a rising sentiment among some Christians that the world is too dark, so we should pull back into “holy huddles,” build communes, or isolate ourselves to avoid the stain of society. But John 1:14 simply does not allow us to do that. Because Christ moved into our neighborhood, we must move into theirs.
You don’t need a PhD in apologetics. You don’t need a bullhorn on a street corner or a stack of tracts. You simply need to show up and love people well.
Jesus didn’t say the world would know we are His disciples by our billboards, our bumper stickers, or our social media statuses. He said they would know us by our love.
Being a pastor has taught me that ministry is mostly about showing up and being present in people’s lives. But that isn’t just a job description for pastors; it’s the blueprint for every follower of Jesus. Walk out your front door, step into your neighborhood, and invite others to taste the relentless, wave-after-wave grace of the God who showed up for us.