Why Christ Came (Hebrews 2.5-18)
You all know that Christmas is almost here, and most of you probably know that Christmas is the day that Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. We all know the scene: the baby in the manger, the parents watching (usually way more peacefully than new parents are, ever), maybe the shepherds and the animals gathered around. The baby is always clean and sleeping and looks just perfect.
It can seem like something out of a fairy tale, rather than something that really happened—much less something that actually makes a difference in our lives today.
But it did, and it does.
We’ve been preparing for Christmas by looking at the first couple chapters of the book of Hebrews, in the New Testament, the second part of the Bible. So far we’ve seen that the baby Jesus in the manger wasn’t just a baby who would grow up to be a good teacher or an influential leader. The author tells us that Jesus, that baby born in Bethlehem, is God himself. When God took on a human nature and came into this world as a human being, he has made himself visible to us. Jesus is the perfect expression of who God is, because he is God.
And then last week we saw that because of what Christ did, he has taken up his place of supreme authority over all things. So we are called to listen to him, to hold tight to the good news he has given us.
All that is important. But if you’re coming to this fresh, those may not be the first questions in your mind. You come to church for a Christmas service, and you’re expecting we’re going to tell the nice story we were talking about—the story of baby Jesus. That’s not what we’re going to do this morning, at least not exactly.
Instead, we’re going to continue in chapter 2 of Hebrews, to answer the question, as clearly as possible: Why did Jesus come?
The text gives us four different answers to the question. It tells us that:
1. Jesus came to rule;
2. Jesus came to make a family;
3. Jesus came to defeat sin and death; and
4. Jesus came to be our faithful High Priest.
Jesus Came to Rule (v. 5-9)
The first thing we see here is that Christ came to rule. Not over a country, or a city, but over everything. And if you look at what the author says here, this isn’t a future goal Christ has established for himself—this is something that has already happened. V. 5:
5 For it was not to angels that God subjected the world to come, of which we are speaking. 6 It has been testified somewhere,
“What is man, that you are mindful of him,
or the son of man, that you care for him?
7 You made him for a little while lower than the angels;
you have crowned him with glory and honor,
8 putting everything in subjection under his feet.”
Now in putting everything in subjection to him, he left nothing outside his control. At present, we do not yet see everything in subjection to him. 9 But we see him who for a little while was made lower than the angels, namely Jesus, crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.
So you notice that every time the author talks about the world—both this world and “the world to come,” that is, heaven—being put “in subjection to” Jesus, he doesn’t put it in the future, but in the past. Jesus is already ruling over all things.
The thing is, though, if you look around at the world, it’s pretty hard to see that. It doesn’t look like Jesus is ruling. And the author told us this was the case. At the end of v. 8, he says, At present, we do not yet see everything in subjection to him. That is, at this point, he is ruling over a world that doesn’t know its King. A world that doesn’t recognize its King.
I’ll never forget the first time I read Psalm 8, which is quoted in v. 6-8, and realized that it’s not actually about us. I’d grown up in church, and I’d always heard that psalm being used as a way to reassure us, that God actually cares for us.
God does care for us, but Psalm 8 isn’t about us, and the author makes that connection here.
When he came to rule, the Son of God could have come down, guns blazing, to make the world get into line and do what he wants. But he didn’t do that. We don’t see everything in subjection to him yet; what do we see instead?
We see a King who was for a little while made “lower than the angels.” We see a King who, instead of waiting for us to reach him, came down to us. We see a King who went to live in the slums with his people. We see a King who made himself small.
That sounds like an unusual way to put something “in subjection” to you. But it’s not—you might fear someone who was powerful and huge and domineering, but you won’t love them. You won’t trust them. You won’t be drawn to them. Jesus is not a King who strong-arms people into following him. He is a King who is so humble, once we know him we love to follow him.
He came to rule in that way, for all eternity.
Jesus Came to Make a Family (v. 9-13)
The second reason Jesus came was to make a family. Let’s read v. 9 again:
But we see him who for a little while was made lower than the angels, namely Jesus, crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.
10 For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering. 11 For he who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one source. That is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers, 12 saying,
“I will tell of your name to my brothers;
in the midst of the congregation I will sing your praise.”
13 And again,
“I will put my trust in him.”
And again,
“Behold, I and the children God has given me.”
Do you see it? It’s Jesus talking in v. 13, when he says, “Look—I and the children God has given me.”
This is the incredible truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ: through what Jesus did for us, God has adopted all those who placed their faith in Christ as his sons and daughters.
It’s hard for most of us to feel the incredible weight of the grace that is adoption.
My younger brother Jared got married last weekend to a wonderful woman named Desiree. The wedding began as all weddings do—the groom was up front, the bridal party came in and took their places. Next would be the moment where everyone would stand up to watch the bride make her entrance.
But instead, the pastor (who happens to be our dad) asked everyone to stay in their seats. He said that normally at a wedding, the bride would be walked down the aisle with her father—but that today, Desiree would be walking down the aisle alone. He explained that when Desiree was little, her mother died suddenly, and seven years later, Desiree’s father abandoned her and her sisters. They grew up in foster care and benefited from the support of some wonderful caregivers, who were present at the wedding. But Desiree was never adopted; she’s been without parents for most of her life.
My father pointed out her former caregivers in the seats, had them stand so that everyone could see them. Then this happened:
I have heard very few stories in the last several years that illustrate this point better. Desirée, who was abandoned by her only living parent, feels the weight of her adoption by God so keenly that it wasn’t sad for her to walk down the aisle unescorted. It was a privilege—because God is her Father, and he was faithful to her. She is no longer an orphan.
This is what the author means when he says we have become “children” of God, “brothers” of Christ. This is how we are brought into Psalm 8, that we talked about earlier. We have been adopted by God, brought into his family by the finished work of Jesus. The Son of God took on humanity, in order that “he who sanctifies” (that is, Jesus, who makes people holy) and “those who are sanctified” all have one source. We share humanity with him—and that is why he is not ashamed to call us brothers. He made us his family, and he brought us along with him, into his heavenly reign.
Jesus came to make a family.
Jesus Came to Defeat Death (v. 14-15)
Third—Jesus came to defeat death. V. 14:
14 Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, 15 and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery.
We need to realize that the fear of death drives so much of what we do on a day-to-day basis. We want to live, but we know our time is limited. So what do we do?
We either ignore the reality of our death, and waste our time on unimportant things until it’s too late; or we try to amass as much happiness for ourselves as we can, to make the most of the time that we have, because we know it’s limited. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, trying to be as happy as we can, but we try to find it in a million different things—in marriage, or kids, or our career, or our hobbies, or our friends—a million things that will ultimately disappoint us, because none of it will last.
It’s no accident that the author calls this a kind of slavery. It’s a vicious cycle that we follow because we don’t see any other way.
But Jesus did.
Because human beings had sinned against God, we are all separated from him. God himself is the source of our life—so separation from God means a slow and steady death, and then condemnation for our rebellion against him.
But if a human being could live a perfect life, then he wouldn’t be separated from God. And if that human being could die, actually pas through death, and then come back from the dead better than he was before… Well, that human being could make it possible for any of us to do the same. It would neutralize the threat.
That’s what Jesus did. He lived a perfect life, the life we should have lived; he took our sins on himself and was punished for those sins in our place; he died, a real, human death, after suffering all the wrath of God against our sin; and then he came back, glorified and made perfect.
And the wonderful thing is, he did it for us. He went through that for us. He actually preceded us in death, and came out the other side, so he can say to us, “Don’t worry. Trust me, and it will be okay.” If we lay hold of Christ, we can live without the fear of dying—without this fear that dictates everything we do. We can live, for the first time, and forever, absolutely free.
Christ came to defeat death.
Jesus Came to Be Our Faithful High Priest (v. 16-18)
Lastly: Jesus came to be our faithful high priest. V. 16:
16 For surely it is not angels that he helps, but he helps the offspring of Abraham.
(That is, all those who belong to his family.)
17 Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. 18 For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.
Why is this such good news? We saw that sin leads to death; sin also leads to fear and guilt. Because we can hear that at least theoretically, Christ saved us… But now I’m tempted to sin again. I’m trying to fight, but it’s really hard. That struggle makes me feel ashamed, and afraid, because I’m terrified that I can’t resist the temptation, and if I fail, how could God still love me?
When we feel that way—and all of us will, at some point—we need someone in our corner.
When you are going through a hard time, nothing is more reassuring, more calming, more helpful, than talking to someone who knows exactly what you’re going through. Even if they don’t have any real advice to give you, it’s just wonderful to know that someone understands, that they’re not looking down on you, and they have your back.
This is what Christ does for us now. He was made like us in every respect: when he was born, it was in a real human body, subject to the same weaknesses and temptations as we are. He resisted those temptations until the end, so he knows how hard it is. He gets it.
You see, Christ didn’t just come to die; he came to live.
He died so that our sin might be done away with, paid for, once and for all. And he lived so that he might understand why living as a weak human being is difficult—that he might be “a merciful and faithful high priest.”
The high priest, for the Israelites, was the intermediary between God and man. He was the person who would come to make sacrifices before God. Those sacrifices would temporarily cleanse the people of their sin, so they could keep on being the people of God. Every time the high priest would go into the temple to offer sacrifices, he would essentially say to God, “You see? Their sin is taken care of. They are still your people.”
But the high priest for the Israelites wasn’t a perfect priest, because he was a sinner too, and every high priest would eventually die—it wasn’t a permanent solution.
But now, Jesus Christ stands as a perfect high priest. A high priest who permanently stands before God and says, “You see? Your wrath has already been poured out on this person’s sin.” (That’s what the word “propitiation” means in v. 17—it’s a sacrifice that satisfies the wrath of God and his demand for justice.) Jesus is a high priest who understands what it’s like to be tempted. For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.
Conclusion
So think back to the story you know—the baby, lying in a manger. At that point in time, it would have been hard to anticipate what that baby would grow up to be. Even Mary, who had heard from the angel that the child would be miraculously conceived of the Holy Spirit, and that he would be “holy, the Son of the Most High” (Luke 1.30-35), didn’t really know exactly what he would be like.
What would you expect of a baby who was also the Son of God? What would you expect him to be like when he grew up? You might expect him to grow up to be incredibly handsome, very strong—a great warrior who would free his people from Roman occupation and after, rule over them.
But that’s not exactly what ended up happening.
He did come to rule—but his reign would be totally different from what you’d expect of the Son of God. It wasn’t earned through military victory or through might, but through humility and sacrifice.
He did come to rule—but he came to rule over a family, not subjects. He came to bring a great many brothers and sisters by his side, that he might share the benefits of his reign with them.
He did come to rule—but it was unacceptable that his rule be temporary, over subjects who will one day be separated from him. And it was unacceptable that his rule be forever contested and rebelled against. So he took on the sin that separated us from him, the sin that brought death, and he defeated them on the cross.
He did come to rule—but he didn’t ask his subjects to do anything that he hadn’t already done himself. So he lived the life we live: a hard life, a life of suffering, a life of struggle with temptation and weakness. He is a ruler who knows what it’s like not to be strong, so he is a compassionate advocate for us.
He did come to rule—but he came to rule over an eternal family, an eternal kingdom. He tasted death for all of us, and came out on the other side, alive and well, so that we might know we don’t have to fear death—which means we don’t have to be enslaved by fear.
Chapter 2 of this book begins with these words:
The first chapter of this book spoke of the superiority of Christ—his power and his greatness and his glory. The resounding message is, You’d better not resist him. Don’t neglect such a great salvation.
But then following that, in tchapter 2, we see the author speaking of the kind of authority Christ wields: his authority is humble, and loving, and sacrificial, and compassionate.
That changes the message a good deal, doesn’t it? Instead of simply saying, Don’t neglect such a great salvation, the author says, Why would you WANT to? It’s hard to follow and obey a dictator… But a loving, gracious, caring King? Why wouldn’t we want a King like that?
Christ is a good King, who gave himself for his people, who loves us and who is trustworthy and compassionate. So I would invite you, this Christmas season, to follow him. Do not neglect such a great salvation.
Every time you see a manger scene, every time you see a Christmas tree, every time you see a gift or a decoration, realize that all of these superficial things are actually calling you to a much higher joy than anything this world can offer. Come to your King.
