O come, O come, great Lord of might,
Who to your tribes on Sinai’s height
In ancient times did give the law
In cloud and majesty and awe.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Immanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

“Great Lord of might” hardly seems an appropriate handle for the son of Mary. In his infancy, needy, dependent, vulnerable — like every other human babe. In his youth, submissive to his parents. In his few adult years, despised, rejected, misunderstood, the scorn and derision of the “lordly” of the land, killed.

And yet . . .

Almighty on the Mountain

The old Latin text of the traditional Christmas hymn “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” reads, “Veni, veni, Adonai” (“Come, come, Lord”) and then remembers the great theophany of God on the mountain of Moses. The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the one who rescued his people from enslavement in Egypt with “an outstretched arm and with great acts of judgment” (Exodus 6:6), came down with “thunders and lightnings and a thick cloud” and with “a very loud trumpet blast,” wrapped in fire (Exodus 19:16, 18).

Here was El Shaddai, “God Almighty” (Exodus 6:2), the God of might who made covenants with their forefathers, who kept his promise to conquer their enemies, who caused the waters to turn red with blood, to stand in a heap, to turn from bitter to sweet, to burst forth from a flinty rock on a parched plain. Here was the one who served his people meals in the wilderness — manna, the very bread of heaven.

Here was Adonai (the Latin rendering of Yahweh in Exodus 6:3), who promised to take the pitiful people of Israel, the least of all the nations, and make them his own with a staggering twofold promise: “I will take you to be my people, and I will be your God” (Exodus 6:7). Here was the one who addressed Moses from the burning bush and the people from the flaming mount, in grace giving them the law.

There could hardly be better news for the people of Israel. Oppressed by the Egyptians, they called out to the God of their fathers. Their cry, far from falling on deaf ears, was heard by the one who created the heavens and the earth, the skies and the seas. God heard them, knew their plight, and came in might to deliver them.

Rejoice! Rejoice, O Israel! For here, truly, is God with us — Immanuel.

Who Is This?

To all appearances, the advent of the eternal Son in the incarnation could hardly be more different from the scene at Mount Sinai. The angel told Joseph to name his betrothed’s unborn child “Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21). But could a babe harassed throughout his brief life really be the same God who broke out in strength against the land of Egypt? After all, isn’t he just the carpenter’s son?

To those who had eyes to see and ears to hear, this Nazarene was far more than a footsore rabbi. He was the one who reigned over the waters. In his first miracle, he revealed his glory by turning clear water to red wine (John 2:6–11). To the amazement of his disciples, he demonstrated his power over raging seas as he calmed with a word or walked across the waves (Matthew 8:26; 14:25). To the wonder of the Samaritan woman, he promised water that would eternally slake her thirst (John 4:14).

He was the one who provided food for the hungry. Twice, when the multitudes hungered, he gave a heavenly blessing and multiplied bread in the wilderness (Matthew 14:19; 15:36). When they sought more signs of his identity, he named himself as the very bread of life (John 6:35).

Even more, he was the one who made blind eyes see, deaf ears hear, lame men walk, the sick well, the dead alive, at whose mere presence the demons cowered and at whose word they fled.

Could this be El Shaddai?

He was the one who spoke to Israel from the mountain, giving the law of the kingdom as “one who had authority,” astonishing the crowds with his teaching as he called them to enter the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 7:28–29; 5:20). He was the one who, as in days of old, spoke with Moses on the mountain in the radiance of his glory and in the shadow of the cloud (Matthew 17:3–5).

Could this be Adonai? Could he be the long-awaited Immanuel?

He was not the Messiah they expected. His life ended miserably on a criminal’s cross.

And yet . . .

O Come, Behold

For those with eyes to see, even in the hour of deepest humility God reveals himself in salvific glory.

Here on the tree, God speaks from a mount shrouded in cloud and deep darkness. “It is finished,” rings the cry (John 19:30). The earth shakes; the rocks split.

Here on the tree is blood poured out, the perfect fulfillment of the law. And here on the tree the red blood of the new covenant turns to clear water, spilt from his side — a river of life.

Here on the tree his body is broken. “It is bread,” he said, “given for you.” The very bread of heaven come down to feed the hungry.

Here is your God. His name is El Shaddai, for he releases his people from bondage by the strength of his arms outstretched. His name is Adonai, for he is the God of the covenants — old and new. His name is Immanuel, for he will dwell with us.

His name is Jesus.

O come, o come, ye Christian and behold
This one who worked his wonders from of old
The Lord of might on Calvary’s tree
Now reigns for you in majesty.