Who Is Jesus?
A carpenter from a small town said things about himself that no one else has said. Let's look at who he actually was.
In the last lesson we talked about the Bible as a library of books, and mentioned that if you ever open it, the place to start is the Gospels — four short accounts that each tell the same story from a different angle. All four are about one person. Not a philosophy. Not a set of rules. A person who walked around a particular part of the world, at a particular time, and got dust on his sandals.
His name was Jesus — in Japanese, イエス. He was a real man, not a legend that grew over centuries around a campfire. He was born into a Jewish family, in a small country called Judea, at a time when Rome ruled most of the known world. He learned his father's trade, carpentry, worked with his hands for years, and said almost nothing in public until he was about thirty.
Then, for about three years, he traveled from town to town, and the reports about what happened next are strange. He wasn't only teaching. He was unsettling the social order itself. And even stranger than what he did was what he seemed to think about who he was.
A carpenter, not a legend
It's easy to picture Jesus as a stained-glass figure — a gentle symbol who has floated above history for two thousand years, growing more legendary with each retelling, the way folk heroes do. But that's not how historians, including non-Christian ones, actually treat him. Jesus's existence in first-century Judea is about as well documented as any ordinary person from the ancient world. Roman writers mention him — the historian Tacitus records that a man called 'Christus' was executed under the Roman governor Pontius Pilate. The Jewish historian Josephus mentions him too. Neither man had any reason to be kind to Christianity.
He grew up in Nazareth, a town so small and unremarkable that one of his own early followers, on first hearing about him, reportedly asked, 'can anything good come out of Nazareth?' That's not the kind of detail you invent if you're trying to make your hero look impressive. He was a subject of the Roman Empire, not one of its citizens with privileges — a working man in an occupied, out-of-the-way province, the same as millions of others history never bothered to record.
This matters more than it might seem. It means the Christian story didn't drift down from nowhere in particular, and it wasn't invented by comfortable people in a position of power. It began with a poor, occupied, Middle Eastern man — which is to say, an Asian man, if we're using the continents literally — in a peripheral corner of the Roman world.
And yet Christians have always claimed something more about him than that he lived and was remarkable: that somehow, in this ordinary man, God himself had stepped into human life — not staying distant and abstract, but moving into the neighborhood, eating, sleeping, getting tired and dusty like everyone else. The Gospel of John opens with exactly this claim, in one of the most quoted lines in the Bible.
“The Word became flesh and lived among us. We saw his glory, such glory as of the only born Son of the Father, full of grace and truth.”
Not a story imported from the West
You may be thinking: isn't this a Western religion anyway? Something that arrived in Japan bundled together with neckties, Christmas cake, and Hollywood movies? That reaction is completely understandable, given how Christianity has usually arrived here. But it isn't accurate.
Jesus was Middle Eastern. Geographically, the Middle East is part of Asia, not Europe. His first followers, his earliest writings, and his first churches were centered in places like Israel, Syria, Egypt, and Mesopotamia — east and south of Europe, not west of it. Christian communities reached India and China well before large parts of northern Europe had given up their old gods; a stone monument still standing in Xi'an, China, records a Christian community there in the year 635.
Japan's own encounter with this faith is older than most people assume. The missionary Francis Xavier landed in Kagoshima in 1549, and within a few decades several hundred thousand Japanese people had become Christians. Then came ruthless persecution, and thousands died rather than recant. What followed is one of the more remarkable, lesser-known chapters in Japanese history: a group known as the Kakure Kirishitan, the Hidden Christians, kept their faith alive in secret for more than 250 years — with no pastors, no printed Bibles, and no contact with any Christian community outside Japan — passing prayers down by memory, in hidden villages around Nagasaki and the Gotō Islands, until missionaries finally returned in the 1860s and found them still there, still believing.
So Japan's relationship with this faith isn't a recent, borrowed one. It's nearly 475 years old — among the longest continuous encounters any Asian nation has had with Christianity. Whatever you eventually make of Jesus, considering him seriously isn't adopting something foreign. In a sense, it's rejoining a conversation your own country has quietly kept alive for centuries.
What he did, and what he claimed
Wherever Jesus went, he kept crossing lines that everyone else was careful to keep. He touched people with skin diseases that made them ritually unclean and physically avoided — people who might not have felt another human hand on their skin in years. He ate meals with tax collectors, who collected money for the occupying Roman government and were treated as traitors by their own communities. He spoke openly, in public, with women whose lives had fallen apart in ways that respectable teachers of his time simply didn't acknowledge.
One story makes this especially vivid. Jesus was teaching in a crowded house when four friends carried a paralyzed man to see him. Unable to get through the door, they climbed onto the roof, tore a hole in it, and lowered their friend down on his mat, right in front of Jesus. Everyone expected a healing. Instead, Jesus's first words were, 'Son, your sins are forgiven.'
The religious teachers in the room went cold. Who can forgive sins but God alone? — that was their unspoken question, and it's a fair one. A teacher, however wise, can tell you to change your behavior. Only the person you've actually wronged has any standing to forgive you. Jesus was speaking as though every wrong done by anyone in that room was, somehow, also a wrong done to him.
He said things like this more than once. When one of his own followers, a man named Philip, asked him to 'show us the Father' — essentially, prove God to us directly — Jesus didn't respond with an argument about God's existence. He answered with a claim about himself.
This is the real puzzle of Jesus. Almost everyone across history, believer or not, agrees he was a remarkable moral teacher. The harder question is what to do with the fact that he also said things a good teacher has no business saying — unless they happen to be true.
“Have I been with you such a long time, and do you not know me, Philip? He who has seen me has seen the Father. How do you say, 'Show us the Father'?”
Someone worth wondering about
The writer C.S. Lewis once pointed out something worth sitting with — not as a trap to catch you in an answer, but as an honest observation. When someone says the kinds of things Jesus said about himself — that he could forgive sins owed to God, that seeing him was the same as seeing the Father — there aren't very many good explanations left for who that person could be.
Maybe he knew it wasn't true and said it anyway, for effect or advantage. Maybe he sincerely believed it but was profoundly mistaken about himself — the kind of confusion we would take very seriously in anyone else making comparable claims. Or maybe, strange as it is to consider, he was telling the truth.
You don't have to settle this today. Thoughtful people — including scholars who set out specifically to disprove Christianity — have sat with this question for years, sometimes a lifetime, before landing anywhere at all. It's fine to still be somewhere in the middle of it yourself.
What's worth noticing, though, is what he did with these claims. He didn't use them to gain comfort, status, or power — by every account, his life ended in humiliation and execution, not privilege. He used them, again and again, to invite tired, unimpressive, overlooked people to come close to him.
That's the real invitation underneath everything Jesus said and did — not a decision he's pressuring you to make today, but a person worth continuing to look at closely. Once people did come close, they found out he also had things to say about how to actually live. That's where we turn next.
“Come to me, all you who labor and are heavily burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart; and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
Key Words
- Christ
- Not a surname — Jesus wasn't 'Jesus Smith.' It's a title meaning 'the Anointed One,' the promised rescuer-king Jewish scripture had long pointed toward.
- Incarnation
- The Christian belief that God himself took on a real, physical human life — not a visit or an appearance, but an actual human birth, body, and death.
- Son of God
- Not a claim about biology, but about unique unity with God — what Jesus's first hearers understood as him claiming a divine identity, not just a close relationship.
- Hidden Christians (Kakure Kirishitan)
- Japanese Christians who secretly preserved their faith for over 250 years without pastors, printed Bibles, or contact with the wider church — until missionaries returned in the 1860s.
Key Points
- Jesus is a documented historical figure — ancient non-Christian writers mention him too, not just the Gospels.
- Christianity began in the Middle East — geographically Asia — and reached China and Japan long before it dominated much of Europe.
- Japan has almost 475 years of its own Christian history, including the Hidden Christians who kept their faith alive in secret for 250 years.
- Jesus repeatedly crossed social and religious lines to reach people everyone else had written off.
- He also made claims about himself — forgiving sin, oneness with God — that go far beyond what a 'great teacher' usually claims.
For Reflection
- When you picture Jesus, what image comes to mind first — and where do you think that image came from?
- If someone today crossed as many social lines as Jesus did — sitting with people others avoid, defending people others condemn — how do you think they'd actually be received?
- What would it mean for you, even provisionally, if the things Jesus said about himself turned out to be true?
A Prayer, If You Want One
God, if Jesus really was who he said he was, I'd like to know that. I'm not ready to say I believe it yet. But I'm willing to keep looking. Amen.
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