Thomas Freidman, the columnist for the New York Times wrote an op-ed piece a couple of weeks ago that spoke about the vast complexity of the U.S.'s diplomatic efforts in regards to Pakistan.  He compared our current understanding  of the implications of our negotiations with Pakistan to viewing the tip of an iceberg.  The iceberg metaphor is a well-used but wonderful image which paints a distinct picture of a situation in which what is seen on the surface is only a tiny percentage of the larger reality beneath the surface.
 
Our text from Colossians this morning brings us the same message about our relationship with Jesus the Christ.  The church and its theologians and its preachers have a tendency to go through cycles about the way in which they discuss Jesus Christ, either focusing upon his humanity or his divinity.  In recent years we have strongly focused on Jesus' earthly life.  We have sought to understand the cultural context in which he lived.  We have tried to understand how his words and actions spoke to the political climate of the time.  We have looked at Jesus as a teacher, as a philosopher, as an activist, as a counselor.  We have scrutinized every moment we have been told of his earthly life.
 
Well our text today reminds us that as vital as all of that inquiry may be, we are merely pecking away at the tip of the iceberg.  Christ's role is far larger and more complex than his thirty three years in ancient Palestine.

As we stand on the doorstep of Advent poised to begin the watch for a cuddly, cooing infant, waiting for a close up shot of the tiny face, our Colossians camera has pulled back and gone wide angle to reveal the entire universe and to bring us a vision of what one commentator calls "the staggering claims of the cosmic Christ...Christ's role in the cosmos from creation to consummation."  Listen to some of the language from the lesson.  "The first born of all creation, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominion or rulers or powers.  All things have been created through him and for him.  He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything.  For in him the fullness of God was pleased to dwell."

These words and images stretch beyond the imagination like those questions that drove you crazy as a kid,
"Where is the end of the universe?" "How long is forever?" "How far is infinity?"
 
One thing we can say for sure is that this Jesus Christ will not be reduced to being some self help guru proffering a few handy tips on how to lead a good life.  This Christ is larger than our concepts and our constructs.  This Christ reaches beyond our human understandings of power and authority.  This Christ is the very glue that binds the universe together.

However in the midst of all of this grand talk of the Christ's universal and eternal existence, the closing line of our text this morning is a reminder of Jesus as one particular mortal man in one time and one place.  "God was pleased to reconcile to Godself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross."  It was the sacrifice of this one man who brings reconciliation and salvation to the world.  It was one man's suffering, one man's dusty feet walking to his crucifixion, that makes it all possible.
 
I am not sure I have anything insightful to say about this paradox of Jesus' particular humanity wedded inexorably to Christ's universality.  It is like some vast theological moebius strip turning over on itself, reaching beyond our logic.  And even if we can begin to grasp this Godman as the King of the universe, how do we relate to him, to it?  The entire endeavor leaves us hanging on to the tip of our iceberg in very deep  and thoughtful waters.
 
Perhaps what this is telling us is that with one hand we need to be constantly reaching up and out recognizing that God's majesty and power and very being are beyond any of our comprehendible limits; while our other hand grasps tightly to the wonderfully comforting notion that God is indeed closer to us than the very breath in our bodies.  God is vast and God is near.  Can we carry the two notions together?

Perhaps if we think about the implication of the paradox it will be easier to grasp.  There is only one reason I can think of why an entity as vast as the Christ has chosen to be as near to humanity as to be literally human in the person of Jesus, deep and abiding love.  Only love makes our insignificant particularity significant to the creator of the universe.  Perhaps the closest analogy we have is when we are in the midst of a busy day of huge and complex tasks and responsibilities and a child of ours, a toddler, scrapes their knee.  We sit down on the floor with them and leave behind all of those vastly important things that must get done immediately to tend to them.  We know that scraped knees are not serious injuries, and we know there are bigger things to deal with, but we also know that whenever someone we love is in pain we want to be there for them.  It is a truly remarkable gift which we are offered every day.

Our text from Colossians opened with this sentence.  "May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from God's glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light."  Which one of us does not seek more strength, patience, and joy in their lives?  Let us remember both God's unfathomable eternal and universal depths and God's near and dear particular immanent presence in Jesus.  Let us remember what binds these two elements together.  Let us celebrate the love we have been given in Christ the King.

Amen.