The Condescension of Christmas – By Anthony Sweat

The Condescension of Christmas

Anthony Sweat

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Anthony Sweat is an Assistant Professor of Church History and Doctrine at Brigham Young University.  He is the author of several books such as: Mormons, An Open Book, Why? Powerful Answers and Practical Reasons for Living LDS Standards, and I’m Not Perfect. Can I Still Go To Heaven?  He received his PhD in education from Utah State University and is a regular speaker at various LDS conferences, including BYU Education Week and Especially For Youth.  He and his lovely wife, Cindy, are the parents of six children.

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You have to smile each time you read Nephi’s response when an angel asked him the question, “Knowest thou the condescension of God?” (1 Nephi 11:16).   Like an unsuspecting student put on the spot by a teacher, Nephi gave a classic response that revealed his uncertainty: “I know that [God] loveth his children; nevertheless, I do not know the meaning of all things” (1 Nephi 11:17).  Nephi apparently did not know what the “condescension” of God meant, but ironically his certain reply that, “I know that God loveth his children” was perhaps the most accurate answer to the angel’s question.

To “condescend” means to come down from a high station to a low station.  Or, as Webster’s dictionary insightfully explains, “To descend to a less dignified level; to waive the privileges of rank.” Using a sports analogy to understand condescension would be like Gladys Knight agreeing to lead your fledgling ward choir. It would be like Lebron James agreeing to play on your elder’s quorum basketball team.  It would be like Microsoft billionaire Bill Gates accepting a lawn-mowing job for ten bucks (and taking out your garbage too).   Or, back to the angel’s question, to condescend would be like God agreeing to leave his exalted station in heaven, waive his privileges of rank as a member of the Godhead, to descend to the lowliest of stations on earth—say, hypothetically, like being born as a helpless baby, in a dirty cave, in a tiny town, to an impoverished, unknown, obscure family in a politically oppressed nation.  This idea of Jehovah as God becoming Jesus as baby is so common today that we little realize the shocking nature of the idea.  God becoming human? The concept was so unfathomable to the pre b.c. people of the Nephites that they killed Abinadi for teaching it: “Abinadi, we have found an accusation against thee, and thou art worthy of death.  For thou hast said that God himself should come down among the children of men; and now, for this cause thou shalt be put to death” (Mosiah 17:7-8; emphasis added).

 

Leaving his Godly station as the pre-mortal mighty Jehovah, Jesus voluntarily became a helpless infant, becoming 100% dependent upon the very flesh he created, being cared for by a first time parents with pure hearts but inexperienced hands, becoming “subject” unto them as Luke taught (hearing as a boy, I am sure, “because I am your mother” as much as any other kid with a good mother hears).  Passing through the veil like all of us, the God who spoke and mountains moved had to learn how to speak.  The God who made the trees had to learn what a tree was.  Contrary to the hymn, little Lord Jesus—like all children—a lot of crying he made.  As a mortal, like us, he became subject to the problems of the flesh: getting sick, tired, hungry, cold, and hurt; feeling and suffering all the same things that we do, including being “in all points tempted like as we are” as Paul said (Hebrews  4:15).  He didn’t always have of a fulness of knowledge and light and understanding, but grew line upon line, or from “grace to grace” (D&C 93:12-13) until “learned he obedience by the things which he suffered” (Hebrews 5:8).

I had a conversation one evening with artist Brian Kershisnik about his painting called “Nativity” where it shows concourses of angels surrounding the birth of the baby Jesus.  At least one of them is crying, not out of joy, Kershisnik told me, but out of sadness and sorrow for the things which our God was about to suffer as a mortal.

 

And why did Jesus agree to condescend to mortality and come to earth?  Why did he choose to suffer shame, rejection, humiliation, and pain “even more than man can suffer” (Mosiah 3:7)? Like Nephi, we already know the answer to that question, don’t we?   “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (St. John 3:16).  At Easter time, we celebrate Jesus’ triumphant victory over sin and death—his atoning sacrifice.  But, in reality, at Christmas time we celebrate the condescension of Jehovah to Jesus.  The miracle that God himself would come down among men, live with us, be mortal like us, and suffer with us, so that he could perfectly know how to succor us (see Hebrews 2:18; Alma 7:12). We celebrate that he was willing to leave his station on high, to condescend below us all.  It’s unfathomable when you think of it, yet that is what he did, for us, because he loves us.

 

On Christmas we celebrate a tree. Not a Christmas tree, but the Christ-tree—the tree of life. On Christmas we celebrate food.  Not the food that adds pleasure and pounds, but the heavenly food—the Bread of Life—that satisfies life’s true hungers and gives true joy to the soul.  On Christmas we celebrate gifts.  Not the gifts we give that being temporary smiles and fun to life, but the gift that was given that sacred, solemn, silent, holy night in Bethlehem: the gift of the condescension of God.  The gift that God loves his children.  The gift of Jesus Christ.

 

Follow Anthony @brotheranthonysweat on Instagram or visit www.anthonysweat.com

 

 

Check out Anthony Sweat’s book “Mormons An Open Book“!  This would be an amazing Christmas gift for anyone!  What is really great about this book is that it is good for everyone – not just members of another faith.  This book helps you learn how to explain what we believe in a clear and accurate way.