There are dozens—maybe hundreds—of names and epithets for Jesus. The photo below shows the cover of a notepad that I keep on my desk, featuring just a few of these.
Most of us have heard these titles so often that some of the shine or sparkle has faded from them. When that happens, we may need new words to resurrect the living truth underlying the old words. As a writer, this is something that deeply interests me, as I’m always trying to find fresh language to invigorate truth.
Recently I came across a new title for Jesus that I’d never heard before. I found it in a chapter of Harriet Beecher Stowe’s wonderful devotional book Footsteps of the Master, where at one point she calls Jesus the “Head of the human race.”
I don’t know whether this phrase excites you as it does me. But I feel it puts a radical new slant on the role and identity of Christ. After all, every human organization—from local committees to corporations to nations—requires a head. Even the group of anarchists in G.K. Chesterton’s masterpiece The Man Who Was Thursday has a head, a huge man named Sunday. Heads, Presidents, Chairpersons, CEO’s—this is just how we humans operate. Even ants have a Queen, wolves have an Alpha, and geese can’t migrate without someone at the head of the V. Without a Head, nothing gets done. (Even with a Head, often nothing gets done—but that’s another topic.)
We know that Jesus is the Head of the Church. Whether you’re a Presbyterian or Baptist, Orthodox or RC, Jesus is our Head. Only by remembering this can the people of Christ function in any way as One Body, which we are.
However, to call Jesus the “Head of the Human Race” makes it clear that He is everybody’s Head. With this phrase, suddenly it becomes perfectly obvious that the human race, disparate as it is, needs a Head, just as the human body needs a head. And who better qualifies for this position than Jesus? If worldwide voting were held tomorrow, I have no doubt who would win. No one will get all the votes, but surely Jesus is far and away the most exceptional human being who ever lived. Our poor race sorely needs a wise, compassionate, fair, and charismatic Leader, someone who can command the maximum respect from the majority of people. Quite apart from religion, it seems perfectly obvious that Jesus is the man for the job.
He has my vote, anyway. And He has the vote of Fyodor Dostoevsky, who wrote: “I believe there is nothing lovelier, deeper, more sympathetic, more rational, more manly, and more perfect than our Savior Jesus Christ; I say to myself with jealous love that not only is there no one else like Him, but that there could be no one.”
Now here’s another word that for me puts a whole new spin on things. I’ve been reading two books of psalms, Sheltering Mercy and Endless Grace, by Ryan Whitaker Smith and Dan Wilt. These are not translations of the psalms but poetic renderings, and they are fabulous! Day after day in my quiet time I read one or two of these inspired poems, and without fail a certain phrase or image leaps off the page and grabs my heart. This is poetry as it should be: common language resurrected.
Today the word that leapt out at me occurs in a line of Psalm 119: “May I keep to Your path, secure in Your affection.”
Affection? God has affection for me? Wow! I know, of course, that God loves me, but love—particularly when it comes to God—is one of those words that may have lost its shine from overuse. Especially in theological parlance it’s become more a technical than an intimate term.
But affection—now that word hits me in a different way. Could it be that the Lord of the Universe actually … likes me?
Brennan Manning told a story about a priest visiting an old Irish peasant named Seamus. One morning, while watching the sunrise over Lake Killarney, the priest found Seamus radiant with joy, eyes wet with tears. When asked why he was so moved, Seamus responded with simple, profound delight:
“The Father of Jesus is very fond of me.”
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