The other day, I was having a lime tea at one of the cafeterias on the Central Campus of Christ University. Nearby, a few undergraduate students, probably in their late teens, were discussing whether it was ethically right to use AI to help with assignments. I found myself drawn into their conversation.
I spoke in favour of using AI to complete assignments. They disagreed, explaining why their lecturers were strongly opposed to it. Trying to sound wise, I said something like this: when I was in school, before Google was even in its infancy, we relied heavily on libraries. Our teachers discouraged the use of Google, and the only sources they accepted were books physically referenced from the library but now it has changed.
There was a brief silence. Then one of them said, “You existed before Google?” In that moment, I felt old. I decided to stop calling myself a “90s kid.”
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December 25th is celebrated as the birth of Jesus by most Christian communities worldwide, although many Eastern Orthodox communities celebrate Christmas on the 7th of January. While there is no historical record of the exact date of Jesus’ birth, the fact that Jesus was born is beyond dispute. His existence is attested by numerous historical sources and supported by well accepted scholarly evidence. Jesus was a historical figure.
The real question, however, is this: since when did Jesus exist? Did he come into existence only two thousand years ago?
Many people today have no difficulty accepting that Jesus lived sometime in the first century CE. What they find harder to accept is that he existed even before that, indeed before the very foundation of the universe.
This difficulty, however, is not unique to our own time. It appears to have been present even in the early Christian communities, particularly within the Johannine community. That is why the Gospel according to John places such strong emphasis on the pre-existence of Jesus.
John recounts moments where it is clearly implied that Jesus existed before Moses and that it was he who provided manna in the wilderness. He existed before Abraham. In the opening chapter of the Gospel, John states unambiguously that Jesus existed even before the foundation of the universe.
John chapter 1 offers a glimpse into the mystery of the Triune God, a subject I shall reflect on another time. The Gospel opens with the words, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God.”
The Word (λόγος) here refers to Jesus. John employs this term to show that Jesus is not merely a messenger sent by God but is himself truly God, the second person of the Trinity, eternally existing with the Father. When the rest of the Gospel is read in this light, it becomes clear that the words Jesus speaks and the works he performs are not simply acts of divine authority delegated to him, but are the very words and works of God himself.
John deliberately begins with the phrase “in the beginning”. Anyone familiar with Genesis is immediately drawn back to Genesis 1,1. This is no accident. John wants his readers to recognise that the story he is telling is not detached from creation, but stands as its continuation and fulfilment.
When we read the Gospels carefully, we see that each Gospel writer begins his account differently, guided by a distinct theological purpose that he seeks to convey both to his own community and to us.
Matthew opens with Abraham and traces Jesus’ genealogy forward in order to show that Jesus is the Messiah for whom the Jews had long been waiting. Luke takes the genealogy further back, all the way to Adam, thereby presenting Jesus as the Saviour of all humanity. Mark, by contrast, begins with the words “the beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ” and focuses on the commencement of Jesus’ public ministry on earth.
John, however, is entirely unique. He traces Jesus’ “genealogy” back beyond created life itself. Unlike Mark, for John the work of Jesus did not begin with his public ministry as a human, but before creation itself.
John correctly presents Jesus as the agent of creation, through whom everything that exists came into being. That is why John writes, “All things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made” (1,3). From the very first chapter, John makes his thesis unmistakably clear: Jesus is God.
This is why, when I read Jesus’ “I am” statements throughout John’s Gospel, I understand them to be deliberate and theologically loaded. The Greek phrase ἐγώ εἰμι (“I am”) is the common verb of being, yet within the biblical context it carries far greater weight. It echoes the Hebrew אֶהְיֶה, used in God’s self revelation in the Old Testament, and is associated with the divine name YHWH.
This also explains why, in John’s Gospel, Jesus faces such intense opposition. Many were willing to accept him as a prophet or even as a king, but not as God. Reading John’s Gospel in this light will be more meaningful.
Therefore, while the birth of Jesus in his human form took place around two thousand years ago and is a well established historical fact, Scripture makes it clear that his existence long predates the universe itself. He existed from eternity past, even before time itself.
This understanding gives the event of Christmas its profound significance, and it is beautifully captured in 1,14: “The Word became flesh and pitched his tent among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.”
God, the eternal one and the creator of all things, took on human form and made his dwelling among us. This stands as the most powerful event in the history of the universe.
Why, then, would God, who is eternal, enter a world bound by time? John explains this in verses 9 to 13:
The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not recognise him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God (ESV).
The early Church Father and theologian Athanasius captures the meaning of this verse well when he says, “God became man so that we might become God.”
This statement often raises eyebrows, and many, through ignorance, are quick to accuse Athanasius of the modern “little gods” heresy popularised by charismatic prosperity preachers and televangelists. That accusation completely misses the point. Athanasius was not suggesting that human beings become part of the Godhead. What he meant becomes clear when we turn to the original Greek. The phrase is better translated as “that we might be deified”. The word Athanasius uses, θεοποιηθῶμεν, carries the sense of participation.
To participate in the divine nature means participating in what theologians describe as God’s communicable attributes, such as goodness, holiness, love, etc. It does not mean acquiring God’s incommunicable attributes, such as omniscience, omnipotence, omnipresence, etc., which belong to God alone. This participation in the divine life is traditionally known as ‘theosis’ or ‘divinisation’. This has nothing to do with modern charismatic nonsense that encourages people to speak things into existence or to behave as though they themselves are gods.
Apologies for the brief digression.
Now, the true story of Christmas is this: God became man so that we might become children of God.
Mortal beings, bound by death, are offered eternal life by being adopted as his children through Jesus. This is why John later writes in 3,16–17, “For this is how much God loved the world: he gave his one and only Son, so that whoever believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world should be saved through him.”
This truth reshapes our understanding of death itself. It even shook the Jewish philosophers of Jesus’ time, where many believed death was final and there is no resurrection and eternal life. But the Christ event declared something radically new. The light of life has triumphed over the darkness of death. “In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (1,4-5).
Death is very dark and is often portrayed as darkness itself, and the absence of light is the absence of life. We all carry darkness within us. There are parts of our lives we are afraid to expose: shame, addiction, failure, pain, debt, poverty, restlessness, injustice, and the list could go on. Contemporary art and the music industry often capitalise on this darkness.
At times, the darkness in our own lives feels overwhelming. There are places within us where we fear what would happen if they were exposed. We would rather hide than be seen. The shame feels too terrible, the pain too cruel. Living in the shadows of death can begin to feel like the only option. Yet into this darkness the true light shines. The one who formed and created us enters in and transforms death into eternal life.
He shines on the garbage lying in the dark corners of our lives: the shame, the failure, the punishment, the restlessness, the pain. He bears it all and cleans it all up, and what was once filthy and hidden is made brand new. From death, we are brought into life.
This is why, we cannot say that there is no point in turning to God in our darkest moments since God is eternal, infinite, and therefore too transcendent to understand our struggles.
The truth is, God does understand. Because God took on flesh and pitched his tent among us. This is Christmas.