The Juxtaposition of God

When we hear the word Emmanuel, most of us immediately picture Christmas. We see a manger. A young mother. Shepherds standing in wonder. A baby wrapped in swaddling cloths. We sing, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” and the entire image feels warm, peaceful, and safe. And it should.

But perhaps our picture of Emmanuel has become a little too soft. Emmanuel means “God with us,” and Scripture reminds us that the God who comes near is not merely comforting. He is holy. He is powerful. He is just. He is gracious. And sometimes, His presence is downright terrifying. Jeremiah once declared, “But the LORD is with me as a dread warrior” Jeremiah 20:11. That's Emmanuel language too. (Note: Josh wanted you all to be aware the th reference he gave on Sunday of 17:11 was wrong but you can find it at 20:11)

The Lord is with me... But Jeremiah doesn't say, “The Lord is with me as a gentle companion.” He describes Him as a dread warrior. The God who is with Jeremiah is the God before whom enemies cannot ultimately stand.

That imagery becomes particularly interesting when we read Joshua 5–6. As Israel approaches Jericho, Joshua encounters a mysterious figure standing before him with a drawn sword. Joshua asks the question we would probably ask: “Are you for us, or for our adversaries?”

The answer is startling. “No.” Then the figure identifies himself as “the commander of the army of the LORD”  Joshua 5:14. Joshua wants to know whose side God is on. God effectively turns the question around. The issue isn’t whether God has joined Joshua’s side. The issue is whether Joshua is submitted to God’s. Joshua falls on his face.

Then comes an unmistakable echo of Moses at the burning bush: “Take off your sandals from your feet, for the place where you are standing is holy” Joshua 5:15. God is with His people. Emmanuel. But this is not the soft glow of a Christmas card. This is the presence of the holy God, and Joshua is face-down in the dirt.

Joshua 6 is uncomfortable Scripture. We know the Sunday School version well. Israel marches around Jericho. The priests blow trumpets. On the seventh day they march seven times, the people shout, and the walls come crashing down. It makes a fantastic children’s Bible story, right up until we keep reading.

Jericho comes under judgment. That forces us to confront something about God that our culture, and sometimes even the Church, would rather avoid: God’s wrath is real. But biblical wrath is not God losing His temper.

God is not emotionally unstable. He does not suddenly explode because humanity finally gets on His nerves. His wrath is the settled, righteous opposition of a holy God toward evil. And that means God’s wrath actually tells us something important about His goodness.

A God who looks at violence, exploitation, abuse, cruelty, idolatry, oppression, and injustice and simply shrugs would not be loving. We want God to oppose evil. The difficulty comes when we realize that God’s holiness doesn’t merely confront the evil out there. It exposes the rebellion within humanity itself.

Jericho reminds us that sin is serious because God is holy. But remarkably, right in the middle of this story of judgment, we find grace. And her name is Rahab. Before Jericho falls, Joshua gives explicit instructions concerning Rahab and her household. They are to be spared.

Think about that. The city is under judgment, yet there is a house within the city marked by mercy. Rahab is not rescued because she was born into Israel. She doesn’t have the right heritage. She doesn’t have an impressive spiritual résumé. She is a Canaanite woman living in Jericho with a deeply complicated story. But she has placed her faith in the God of Israel. So when judgment comes, mercy finds her.

Joshua 6:25 tells us, “But Rahab the prostitute and her father’s household and all who belonged to her, Joshua saved alive.” Wrath and grace stand side by side. Judgment is real. Mercy is real. Holiness is real. Grace is real. And neither diminishes the other.

In fact, Rahab eventually becomes part of Israel. Even more remarkably, Matthew includes her in the genealogy of Jesus. The woman rescued from Jericho eventually becomes part of the family line through which Emmanuel comes into the world. That is stunning. The story that contains the dread warrior also contains the beginning of a family line leading toward the baby in Bethlehem.

Maybe this is where our understanding of Christmas needs to become bigger. When we say, “God with us,” we are not saying that God became less holy so we could become more comfortable around Him. The child lying in the manger is the Lord. 

The Jesus held in Mary’s arms is the One through whom all things were created. The One who welcomes children is also the One who overturns tables. The One who touches lepers is also the One before whom demons tremble. The One who says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden,” is also the King who will ultimately judge evil and make all things right. Emmanuel is comforting precisely because Emmanuel is powerful.

“The LORD is with me as a dread warrior.” There is tremendous comfort in that sentence when you think about it. If God is merely gentle but powerless, His presence offers sympathy but not deliverance. If God is powerful but cruel, His presence would be terrifying. But the God revealed throughout Scripture is perfectly holy, unimaginably powerful, righteous in judgment, and overflowing with steadfast love.

The Warrior is for His people.

The Judge offers mercy.

The Holy One comes near.

That is Emmanuel.

Sometimes we unintentionally treat grace as though God relaxed His standards. He didn’t. The gospel is not the announcement that God finally decided sin wasn’t such a big deal. The gospel tells us that sin was such a serious matter that Christ went to the cross. At the cross, the themes we see at Jericho reach their ultimate expression.

Wrath and grace meet.

Justice and mercy meet.

Holiness and love meet.

God does not ignore sin; He deals with it.

And rather than leaving us under judgment, Jesus bears judgment so that sinners can be reconciled to God. This is why the manger cannot be separated from the cross. Emmanuel came near not simply to experience life alongside us but to rescue us. The baby came to become the Lamb. And the Lamb is also the King.

Joshua 5–6 challenges the small versions of God we create for ourselves. We want a God who is with us, but preferably one who endorses our plans. Joshua discovers a Commander. We want a God who is loving, but sometimes define love as never judging anything. Jericho reveals a holy Judge. We fear that God’s holiness means people like Rahab could never belong. Rahab reveals astonishing grace. And all of it points toward Jesus.

Emmanuel. God with us.

Not tame. Not weak. Not indifferent toward evil. Not reluctant to show mercy. He is the holy God who comes near. The dread warrior who fights for His people. The righteous Judge who confronts evil. The gracious Savior who welcomes outsiders into His family. The King who stepped into our world as a helpless infant and ultimately conquered not by marching around the walls of a city, but by giving His own life upon a cross.

So perhaps when we sing about Emmanuel this Christmas, we should allow the image to grow larger than the manger. Yes, behold the baby. Behold the tenderness of God coming near. Behold the incredible humility of the Word becoming flesh. But also remember who has come.

The Commander.
The Warrior.
The Judge.
The Savior.
The King.

And because He is all of those things, the words “God with us” become infinitely more powerful. The Lord is with us. And that is both a holy terror and an extraordinary grace.