Christ is not just different by degrees from man, he’s different by kind. There is Christ and there is everyone else. He, in the world of man, is as a professional quarterback in the world of man, of whom none could enter the playing field and do what either can do. Crossing over leagues to the level of the NFL, the pro quarterback may as well have crossed into another dimension. He is, in the exact sense, in a league of his own. He is different, not merely in a matter of degrees, but in type. He lives and walks and sees and breathes as if he is in, and from, another world. A mere mortal who is not from his world may try and try to get there by being faster and stronger and bigger, and work by degrees towards Olympus, but he would fail to enter it. He is not and never will be a pro quarterback. The only way to be one, would be to go back into his mother’s womb and be born again as one.
Yet it seems this is precisely what Christ asks of every Christian: To be different from man; not in degrees, but in kind; to be in this world, but from another one; in a very true sense, to be in this world by being out of it; to do all things, yet somehow, beyond all possibilities, only as Christ does them.
Christ can not only not worry about his life, but care for everyone else’s. He can not only be humble, but at the same time inherit everything. He can not only perform miracles, but demand they be kept secret.
Christ can not only obey every rule perfectly, but somehow do it by not following them. Not only live, but do it by dying. Not only rule everyone, but do it by serving everyone. Not only claim He is God’s only son, but also that He is everyone’s brother. Not only say it is not merely possible we can do the impossible, but inevitable. He is different.