"The Humanity of Christ" - Gail Martin

2025 has not been at all what I expected. Since January, it has felt like one setback after another. My car broke down at the start of the year, creating serious financial hardship. I stepped away and out in faith from a career I’d been in for five years, not knowing exactly what would come next. I injured myself in January while training for an April marathon, and for weeks I couldn’t walk without pain. I went through a month of sleepless nights where my body wouldn’t shut down until four in the morning. And have walked through work and daily life still feeling like I'm up against one long headwind. Honestly, it has felt like being caught in a Category 4 hurricane that refuses to move inland.

And in the middle of all of this, I’ve had to face the lies that come like pounding rain: “You’re not wise enough. You’re not equipped. You should just quit. You’ll never flourish.” When storms come, we are so vulnerable to the enemy’s whispers. We’re tired, worn down, and it takes every ounce of strength just to hold on. That’s when temptation feels strongest, when we start thinking maybe comfort would be easier and would silence the wind. 

But here’s what I’ve been realizing: storms reveal how deep your roots go. If your faith doesn’t run deep, the storm can carry you out to sea. But if your roots are deep in God’s Word, in prayer, and in the history of His faithfulness to you, you can bend without breaking. Jeremiah 17:7–8 says, “Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.” The strength to endure the storm doesn’t come in the storm, it comes from how deeply your roots have dug down before it.

A few weeks ago, in the thick of all this, I called two close friends and asked if they would pray over me. As I poured out everything I was walking through, Mary asked, “What if you asked Jesus to show you His humanity in this?” That question brought me to tears in a freeing way. I knew Jesus was with me, but I had forgotten that He doesn’t just walk above my storms in divine strength, He entered into them fully as a human. He knows sleepless nights. He knows exhaustion. He knows financial lack, disappointment, rejection, and grief. Hebrews 4:15 says, “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are, yet he did not sin.”

That verse is staggering when you stop and really let it sink in. Jesus doesn’t just sympathize with us from a distance, He empathizes with us because He’s lived it. Henri Nouwen once wrote, “The mystery of God’s love is not that our pain is taken away, but that God first wants to share that pain with us.” This is the profound truth of Jesus’ humanity. That He does not remove Himself from the weight of our sorrows. He steps into them, holding them with us, dignifying them by His presence.

Jonathan David & Melissa Helser echo this in their teachings on the humanity of Christ. Melissa describes how, in seeing Jesus’ humanity, we are given permission to embrace our own. Jesus doesn’t meet us with shame for being fragile, He meets us with compassion because He too walked in skin, bone, and tears. Jonathan reminds us that our foundation in storms is not our striving but our friendship with God. When we cultivate a life of intimacy with Him, it becomes the deep root that holds us steady when winds rage.

The storm has been teaching me to run to Jesus who is both God and man. His divinity assures me He has the power to calm storms, but His humanity assures me He understands when the winds won’t stop howling. And that combination: His strength and His empathy is what anchors my soul.

So here’s the question I’ve been asking myself, and I’ll ask you too: What if you asked Jesus to show you his humanity in your current circumstances?

And maybe you’re in a storm right now, feeling too tired to keep fighting. Friend, Jesus understands. He knows the weight of exhaustion, the pull of temptation, and the ache of unanswered questions. And because He does, you can come to Him honestly and find mercy. As Hebrews 4:16 continues, “Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.”

A Prayer for the Storms
Lord Jesus, thank You for stepping into our humanity. Thank You that You know the ache of weakness, the pull of temptation, the exhaustion of storms. I ask that You would show me more of Your humanity in my pain, and anchor me in the truth of who You are. Dig my roots deeper now (through Your Word, through prayer, through trust in You) so that when the storms rage, I may stand firm. Protect me from the lies of the enemy when I am weary, and let my history with You be my strength. Amen.