Psalm 136:10-11
10 to him who struck down the firstborn of Egypt
His love endures forever.11 and brought Israel out from among them
His love endures forever.
The Exodus narrative in this psalm, complete with Israel’s liberation, reveals the might of our God on full display. It tells of a unique salvation that bears the unmistakable signature of a divine deliverance, a sweeping righteousness and an incomparable power that crushes the enemy’s horses and chariots.
Bold and miraculous. Dynamic force. Omnipotent strength.
And, for the most part, completely foreign to me.
As an Asian American, it’s difficult to remember when I’ve witnessed divine retribution on an Exodus-type scale. It’s difficult to see my story find its expression in this psalm. Though I’ve witnessed many miracles that can only be attributed to the work of the Divine, I cannot recall a time when I stood upon a precipice and saw a grand-scale parting of the seas right before my eyes.
Furthermore, these days I read the psalmist’s declarations and can’t help but feel disparaged. How does the Red Sea part for me? How can I possibly declare, as the psalmist does, of God’s enduring love forever?
Yet verse 12 describes God’s deliverance “with a mighty hand and outstretched arm; His love endures forever.” A mighty hand and an outstretched arm? God has a hand and an arm?
This is an example of divine accommodation, the theological idea that God, in his immense transcendence, must humble himself in order for his creation to understand his love, his character, and his ways.
In Psalm 136, God’s figurative hand and arm is the psalmist’s way of communicating the strength and reach of God’s power in ways we can readily understand. We can visualize a muscularly sinewed arm reaching down from the heavens, scooping up the Israelites with a steady hand, and guiding them from shore to shore.
Divine accommodation is the ultimate expression of humility.
Is there a better description of the Christmas Advent? The prime example of accommodation is the fullness of God incarnated to dwell among humanity while taking on flesh. But instead of a might that obliterates chariots and horses, he comes as a baby in a manger. And instead of an outstretched arm of deliverance, God’s deliverance comes from his Son living as a servant and dying as an outcast.
Within this paradox lies the heart of a Mighty God for our communities. The source of our might doesn’t come from strength or force; rather, as Paul writes in Romans 8, through sharing in Christ’s suffering, we “also share in his glory.”
Applied to our specific context as descendants of immigrants from Asia, the accommodation of Advent allows us to see our own stories mirrored in the birth of Jesus Christ. We were born and raised with an uncomfortable sense of self, shifting between forms of identity, and the truth is, many of us will serve and die as outcasts. Yet we also recognize that our Mighty God paved a path for us, not by a parting of the Red Sea, but a crossing of the Pacific Ocean. And despite the socioeconomic and geopolitical factors that occasioned our ancestors’ emigration, it was the mighty hand of God and his outstretched arm that sustained them then and sustains us now.
The divine accommodation of the Incarnation helps us recognize that our story is not an outlier; it is embedded within the Christmas narrative. This Advent season, may we believe that God meets us, as Asian Americans, in ways unique to our experience so that we too may proclaim our own psalmic confession that truly his love endures forever.
Reflection Questions
- How does your lived experience find its grand expression in the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ?
- In what specific ways has God shown himself to be a Mighty God in your own life, and how does this shape your Advent-waiting in this current season?
To view this piece in a magazine format, click here. Our next Advent devotional will be published next week, and you can find last week’s here.
Photo Credit: Echo