“Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross” (Philippians 2: 5-8).
The devil is no fool. He attacks from all angles. He picks slowly at our weakest and most insignificant defenses, until we find ourselves surprisingly outflanked. He attacks where we are not defending. But he also is known for the frontal assault. He questions the things that we’re not so sure about, and attacks the center of the faith. Consider this passage. This ode to the humility of Christ was probably just that, an ode. Called the “Kenotic hymn” (kenotic means “emptying”) it was probably sung by the early church, even before Paul penned the words in his epistle. And the devil went right to work, distorting it. What we sang with conviction and joy, He attacked.
As the first century church draws to a close, there are storm clouds on the horizon. The church of Jesus Christ will spend the next four hundred years fighting titanic struggles over one issue that should be fundamental, the nature of Christ. The heretics that Paul warned about came teaching all manner of demonic lies, centered on the doctrine of the incarnation. Some came and said that Jesus was not God, but an emanation from God. The church responded by affirming that Jesus is homo-ousias with the Father, of the same substance. The devil followed with reinforcements, arguing that Jesus was just the Father, wearing a different mask, and the church responded saying that Jesus is homoi-ousias, of similar substance with the Father. And then came the third wave, those who argued that Jesus was neither man nor God, but some strange in-between beast. And the church went back to homo-ousias.
Though the church in her ecumenical creeds of the first half of the first millenium after Christ looked to the whole of Scripture to hammer out their understanding of the incarnation, and though her enemies sought to twist the whole of Scripture, it seems that whole battle could have been fought on the field of this passage alone. If Jesus set aside His divinity, does that not mean that He had been God? If Jesus set aside His divinity, does that not mean that He was a man? But how could He be a man, when Paul tells us He was found in appearance as a man? Was He God for a while, man for a while, and then God again?
This text, while it tells us a great deal about humility, both ours and that of our savior, is not abundantly clear as an exposition of the incarnation. But a careful reading can surely help. First, “being in the form” is written in the imperfect tense. This tells us two things, that it refers to His pre-incarnation state, and from then onward. Of course we don’t even need that help. If Jesus was God, He always will be God, because God does not change. God cannot empty Himself of His godness, anymore than a leopard can change His spots. That which was God is God and evermore shall be God.
So what was emptied? The manifestation of the glory of God. This is why Paul turns to speak of the appearance of Jesus as a man. This is not to deny the reality of His humanity. We affirm both, that He is fully God and fully man. But what did we see? With the possible exception of the Mount of Transfiguration, we saw only His humanity. He appeared as a man. When God took on flesh and dwelt among us, He took on flesh, and looked like flesh. We did not see the temple filled with His robe. We did not hear the angels cry, “Holy, holy, holy.” We saw a man from Galilee. We saw a man bruised, beaten, spent by the wrath of the Father. We saw Him not dressed in the beauty of holiness, but in the ugliness of our own sin.
That is humility. He set aside the manifestation of His glory, not His being, indeed not even His glory. (That is, the glory still existed, and it was still His. But we did not see it.) Paul’s point is to teach the Philippians, and us, about humility. Jesus was due all glory, laud and honor. But He set it aside, for the sake of His bride, and the glory that was to come. We are to do likewise. In Him we are even now kings and queens, seated with Him in the heavenlies. But we too, after Him, are to take on the form of a servant. We are to set aside the glory that, in Him, is ours now, and evermore shall be. Why? So that we might be lifted up, that we might receive glory, the glory due to His name. That we might be like Him.
We began as dust, and He acted with unspeakable grace and made us His image bearers, imbuing us with a dignity we did not earn. And we rebelled. But with still greater grace, He took on flesh, the appearance as a man, that we might become joint-heirs with Him, that we might share in His glory. And He has promised that if we will walk humbly with Him, if we will be obedient, even unto death, He will lift us up on the last day. We move from dust to glory, to worse than dust, to greater than glory. All because of Him. Is it any wonder that every knee will bow, and that every tongue will confess that this Jesus is Lord over all? Is it any wonder that the Father will be glorified in it? Is it any wonder that we are then called to wonder at His grace, and so be humble?
