Last week, we talked about the line that God drew between the coming of Christ and the resurrection, between God with us and God in us, as we followed Jesus from the manger to Pentecost. In our journey, we discovered that his purpose was never to walk beside us but to live inside us. And so, the manger was the beginning of God with us, but Pentecost was the beginning of God in us.

In other words, before Jesus ever lay in a manger, before shepherds heard angels singing in the night sky, and before Mary ever felt Jesus moving in her womb, he was already moving. You see, Bethlehem was not his beginning; it was his entrance, his manifestation, as he crossed the line into flesh and dwelt among us. And so, everything he did in the New Testament was rooted in who he already was in the beginning.

And that brings us to today’s message, because we cannot truly understand God with us unless we first understand Jesus before the manger. In other words, we cannot fully appreciate the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes until we see the eternal Son who spoke light into the darkness. And so, the line that leads us to Christmas does not begin in Matthew; it begins in Genesis, and if you can see him there, you will see him more clearly in Bethlehem.

And yet, the Scripture reminds us of the limitation of our sight, saying,

“Now we see but a poor reflection; then we shall see face to face” (1 Corinthians 13:12).

And so, right now, we see Jesus through the fog of our humanity, the filters of our own experiences, and through the lenses of the pain and trauma of our background. We sense him, we feel him, we know he is there, but we do not yet see him in his fullness. That is why faith must come first, and sight comes later.

Jesus told Thomas, a week after his resurrection,

“Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed” (John 20:29).

That means you are blessed right now, because much of what God is doing in your life cannot be seen with the natural eye. The Bible says,

“We live by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7).

And so, the blessing rests on those who believe without seeing, because the eyesight is too limited to carry the weight of who Jesus really is.

This is why we must approach the Scriptures with humility, because our backgrounds, our wounds, our assumptions, our upbringing, all of it can cloud our vision. The issue is not that Jesus is unclear; sometimes our lens is unclear, sometimes it’s not the revelation that is dim, it is the window we are looking through, and so we need the Holy Spirit to clean the glass, to clear our view, and that is what he does.

Much like Abraham’s servant describing Isaac to Rebekah as they begin the journey back to Abraham’s household, the Holy Spirit describes Jesus to us. He testifies of Christ, he whispers his truth, he stirs our hearts in worship, he opens our eyes through the Word of God, and every time your spirit leaps, every time tears rise unexpectedly, every time something awakens inside of you, it is because you caught a glimpse of Jesus.

Now we see, but a poor reflection, but one glimpse can steady your faith, lift your head, and carry you through a dark week. We may still feel like we are looking through a dim reflection, but glimpses are enough to anchor us, grow us, and keep us until the day we see him as he is.

The apostle Paul then takes us deeper into why so many struggle to see Jesus. It is not because Jesus is hiding, or because they are worse than anyone else; it’s because something spiritual is happening behind the scenes. He said:

“Even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God” (2 Corinthians 4:3–4).

Look at the words that he used: veiled, blinded, and cannot see, describing the darkness covering the mind of unbelievers.

In other words, that’s why you can’t argue someone into the kingdom, shame someone into faith, or use logic to lead someone to Christ. The issue is not information; it’s about revelation, which is why prayer, worship, and preaching matter. The veil must be lifted by the power of God because you can’t remove your own blindness. But look at what God does:

“God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made his light shine in our hearts” (2 Corinthians 4:6).

Do you see the contrast? Satan blinds the minds of unbelievers, and God shines in our hearts. Satan covers the eyes, producing darkness, and God speaks light, uncovering the soul. This is why salvation is a miracle; it’s not just a moment of understanding, it is light entering darkness. It is God speaking into the heart the same way he spoke into creation. When he said, “Let there be light,” the darkness had to flee. And when he speaks light over a human heart, spiritual darkness cannot stay.

This is why some people change instantly and dramatically: one moment they are bound, and the next they are free. One moment, they are confused; the next, they are focused and confident because light has entered the heart.

In this passage, the Holy Spirit links revelation to light for a reason. Light is not just a symbol in Scripture; light is the language of God. And so, when God wants to reveal himself, he speaks in light. When God wants to expose something, he speaks in light. When God wants to deliver, heal, strengthen, or correct, he speaks in light.

Let me prove it to you, the psalmist said,

“The unfolding of your words gives light; it gives understanding to the simple” (Psalm 119:130).

You see, darkness is simply the absence of light, but when his Word enters, light breaks in and darkness retreats. This is why Paul goes back to the beginning, back to creation, when God said,

“Let there be light,’ and there was light” (Genesis 1:3).

In other words, light responds to God’s voice because it knows its Creator, and when God speaks to a heart, he speaks as he did in Genesis: he commands light into dark places.

This is why the devil hates revelation. He doesn’t mind if you go to church as long as you stay in the darkness. He doesn’t mind if you read the Bible, as long as you never see Jesus in it. He doesn’t mind if you hear sermons as long as the light never enters your heart.

But when the Word enters, light enters, and when light enters, everything begins to shift. There is understanding, hope rises, strength returns, and faith grows because God is shining the truth into places where darkness once lived. And once the light comes, the darkness cannot argue with it because darkness can’t overpower it, darkness can’t stay where the light is, light always wins.

Now, if we are going to understand Jesus in the manger, we must first understand Jesus in the beginning, because the story of Christmas doesn’t start in Bethlehem; it starts in Genesis. Long before Mary ever held him, long before angels ever announced him, long before shepherds ever ran to him, Jesus was already moving. Genesis tells us plainly:

“God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light” (Genesis 1:3).

But these were not just creative words; they were Christ-revealing words. John tells us plainly who was speaking in Genesis. He said,

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God… Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men” (John 1:1–4).

In other words, when God said, “Let there be light,” he was revealing his Son, calling forth the Light of the world before the world ever knew his name.

And here’s something that should stir your spirit: light existed for 3 days before the sun was created. The sun did not appear until day 4, so the light on day one was Christ himself; it was a spiritual light, it was the radiance of Christ himself breaking into the darkness.

This means Jesus did not begin in Bethlehem; that was simply the place where eternity stepped into time, where the Creator wrapped himself in creation. Because before Jesus rested in Mary’s arms, he was holding the universe together. Before he lay in a manger, he was laying the foundations of the earth. Before the shepherds ever saw his face, creation had already seen his glory, as the writer of Hebrews said,

“The Son is the radiance of God's glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word” (Hebrews 1:3).

He sustains all things, not some things, but all things. He sustains the breath in your lungs, your heartbeat, your body, your destiny, and your calling. He holds all of it by his Word, and whatever he speaks, he sustains.

And so, everything he does in the New Testament flows out of who he already was in the beginning. And you can’t understand Immanuel unless you understand Elohim. You can’t understand God with us unless you understand God above us, God beyond us, and God before us.

The miracle of Christmas is not simply that a child was born, but that the eternal Christ, the Son of God, stepped into his own creation. And so, everything in Genesis whispers the name of the Word who spoke the world into existence. Every whisper of light. Every move of the Spirit. Every creative word. Every breath of God into dirt. All of it is leading toward the moment in Bethlehem when the eternal stepped into time.

With that introduction, Paul then shifts the focus to make a shocking comparison. After looking at creation and describing the light of God shining in the face of Christ, he immediately says:

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us” (2 Corinthians 4:7).

In other words, the Holy Spirit is telling us something about ourselves and something about God at the same time. The treasurer is divine, and the vessel is dirt. The treasurer is eternal, and the vessel is temporary. The treasurer is holy, and the vessel is human. And yet, God chose to place himself, his spirit, his presence, his power inside us, inside these fragile jars of clay.

This is one of the most humbling truths in Scripture. The Creator who spoke the world into being, the Christ who shone before the sun existed, the Spirit who hovered over the waters, has decided to dwell in these jars of clay, dirt shaped by our Father’s hands. Isaiah said it best:

“Lord, you are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand” (Isaiah 64:8).

That’s why you never have to wonder whether God can use you, because the power isn’t in the clay, the power is in the treasure. The same Christ who shone in Genesis now shines in you. The same Light that pierced creation now fills your spirit. The same Word that spoke the world into existence now lives in your heart.

This is why the manger matters. The God who stepped into clay in Genesis stepped into the flesh in Bethlehem. The one who breathed life into Adam became the life inside of us through his Spirit. The treasure that appeared in Creation now lives in human hearts, in these jars of clay.

And so, if we want to understand who Jesus is before the manger, we have to look closely at the way Scripture introduces the movement of God. The very first picture we see of God doing anything, before he speaks, before he creates, before he forms, the Bible says:

“The earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters” (Genesis 1:2).

Before God said anything, the Spirit was already moving, hovering over the waters. Before creation took shape, the Spirit was brooding over the deep. And this is not accidental; this is the divine pattern. Wherever you see water in Scripture, look for the Spirit. And wherever you find the Spirit, look for water. Because water is the place where God shapes, washes, cleanses, fills, and brings things to life.

We see this pattern continuing throughout the Scriptures. When Israel crossed the Red Sea, the water became the line between bondage and freedom, and the Spirit led them into the wilderness. When they crossed the Jordan, the watermark their entrance into the promise, and the Spirit empowered Joshua to lead them forward. Then, when Jesus stepped onto the scene, what did God do? He brings him down to the water, and the Bible says:

“As Jesus was coming up out of the water… the Spirit descended on him like a dove” (Mark 1:10).

Once again, we see the Spirit and water, because the Spirit has been moving over the water since creation. When Jesus rose out of the Jordan, the same Spirit who hovered over the deep in Genesis rested upon him, revealing him as the one who would carry God’s life into the world.

Later, Jesus stood and declared:

“If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink… Whoever believes in me, streams of living water will flow from within him.” And the Scripture explains, “By this he meant the Spirit” (John 7:37–39).

The Spirit is the living water within us. The same water that covered the deep. The same water from which Jesus came up at his baptism. The same life-giving water that flows in everyone who believes.

And it’s the same Spirit who hovered over the waters in Genesis that now hovers over your life. The same Spirit who prepared creation prepares your heart. The same Spirit who moved in the beginning now moves in these jars of clay

To understand Jesus before the manger, we also have to understand the masterpiece he formed in Genesis. Because the same Christ who commanded light, who shaped creation, who held all things together by his power, is the one who stooped down...

“The Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life” (Genesis 2:7).

This single verse tells us more about who we are than any human theory ever could. It shows us that humanity is layered, both earthy and divine, fragile and eternal, and that life came from God.

The Scripture tells us that we are spirits, that we have souls, and that we live in bodies. These are the layers of humanity: your body gives you worldly consciousness, your soul gives you self-consciousness, and your spirit gives you God consciousness.

And so, people will see your body, but God sees your soul, and many of us are living with wounds in our souls that bleed into our bodies. But when that stress becomes sickness, grief becomes fatigue, trauma becomes anxiety, and shame becomes depression, you may be living in that jar of clay, but you are not the clay. One day, this earthly house will be taken down, but…

“We know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven” (2 Corinthians 5:1).

In other words, your body is your tent, your soul is your story, and your spirit is where the battles are fought. And so, the Christ we saw in Genesis is the Christ who breathed life into all three layers. He breathed spirit into clay, awakening the soul within Adam, and forming his body with his hands.

So, when we come to the manger, we are not coming to a child who began in that moment. We are coming to the creator now wrapped in flesh, but to understand the manger, we must understand the world that he stepped into, because he came on a rescue mission. The one who formed our bodies now takes on a body of his own, so that he could restore every part of us, body, soul, and spirit.

You see, by the time we reach Bethlehem, humanity has already fallen, creation has already groaned,

“The Lord God banished Adam from the Garden of Eden to work the ground from which he had been taken” (Genesis 3:23).

And the world has already shifted from a garden paradise into the wilderness.

When Adam fell, he was cast out into the wilderness. It was unstructured, unpredictable, and unprotected. The wilderness represents everything the garden was not. And this was the world Jesus entered, not paradise, but our wilderness, our brokenness, and our darkness.

Jesus was born into the wilderness of a broken world filled with pain, confusion, spiritual blindness, and demonic activity. A world where people were hungry for light but trapped in darkness. A world not far removed from the chaos of Genesis chapter 1.

Immanuel, God with us, means that God stepped into the wilderness with us. God entered the pain, the confusion, the mess, coming down and crossing the line into our world because we could not cross into his.

“Who will ascend into heaven?” (Romans 10:6).

We could not climb up to him, so he came down to us. We could not reach into glory, so glory reached into humanity.

And so, as we stand in this season of Advent, before there could be God in us, there had to be God with us, and so he gave us glimpses of God before us that prepared generations to recognize him when he came.

Meanwhile, humanity has wandered for thousands of years, stumbling through the wilderness of sin and suffering. Yet even in the wilderness, God was preparing the way. The prophets announced him, the kings foreshadowed him, the priesthood patterned him, the law pointed toward him, the sacrifice anticipated him, creation revealed him, and the Spirit moved over it all, ensuring that nothing in the wilderness could stop the promise from coming.

It was in that context that the one born of a virgin came; he wasn’t stepping into a perfect world, but a fallen and broken one. Christmas is God invading the wilderness, declaring, I will not leave you where Adam left you. I will not abandon you in the darkness. I will not allow your adversary, Satan, to have the last word.

All of this sets us up for next Sunday, because Bethlehem is only the beginning, the light that appeared in the manger would soon confront the wilderness head-on. And what happens when the light meets darkness, when God walks among broken humanity, when eternity wraps itself in time, will reveal everything about who Jesus really is.

And so, next week, we cross the line, the word becomes flesh, Genesis meets Bethlehem, and the light shines in the darkness. But God did not bring you here to leave you where you are, he brought you here so that the same Jesus you glimpsed today can begin to reveal himself to you in a deeper way. This is the line we are crossing, from glimpses to encounter, from darkness to light, from feeling him to knowing him personally. And that begins when you say, “Jesus, step into my life the way you stepped into this world.”

Graphics, notes, and commentary from LifeChurch, Ministry Pass, PC Study Bible, Preaching Library, and Sermon Central. Scripture from the New International Version unless otherwise noted.