Posts that reference the Gospel of Matthew

The Scandal of the Gifts

“Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the east came to Jerusalem, saying, ‘Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.’ … And going into the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh.” – Matthew 2:1-2, 11

We’ve explored how the incarnation itself was scandalous—God becoming human contradicted every expectation of divinity. We’ve seen how God’s choice of shepherds as first witnesses upended social hierarchies and credibility systems. Today, we turn to our final Christmas scandal: the extravagant gifts brought by the Magi.

At first glance, expensive gifts might not seem scandalous. After all, our culture celebrates lavish giving, especially at Christmas. But looking deeper, we discover that the Magi’s gifts represent another divine stumbling block (σκανδαλίζω/skandalizō)—another way the Christmas story challenges our assumptions and invites us into a different economy altogether.

The Mysterious Magi

Before examining their gifts, let’s consider the gift-givers themselves. The Magi (often called “wise men” or traditionally “three kings”) remain somewhat mysterious figures in the biblical narrative. Matthew tells us little about them except that they came “from the east” following a star they associated with a newborn Jewish king.

Scholars believe they were likely astrologers from Persia or Babylon—practitioners of arts forbidden to the Jews. They were Gentiles, outsiders to God’s covenant with Israel. They were probably adherents of Zoroastrianism or another eastern religion, not worshippers of Yahweh.

In short, they were unlikely participants in the Messiah’s story. Their presence itself represents another scandal of inclusion—God drawing outsiders into His redemptive narrative and accepting worship from those outside the established religious system.

The Extravagant Gifts

The Magi brought three gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. To appreciate the scandal of these gifts, we need to understand their significance:

1. Gold

Gold was then, as now, a symbol of wealth and royalty. It was a gift fit for a king, acknowledging Jesus’ royal status. But the scandal lies in the contrast—this “king” was born in humble circumstances to working-class parents, with no palace, throne, or royal trappings. The gold highlighted the disparity between Jesus’ true identity and His apparent circumstances.

2. Frankincense

This aromatic resin was used in temple worship, particularly in the incense offering that symbolized prayers ascending to God. It was associated with priesthood and divinity. Giving frankincense to a child suggested recognition of His divine nature—a scandalous claim about a human baby.

3. Myrrh

Perhaps the most unusual gift, myrrh was an embalming spice used in burial preparations. It foreshadowed Jesus’ death even at His birth. What new mother would welcome a gift symbolizing her child’s mortality? Yet this gift prophetically pointed to Jesus’ ultimate purpose—not just to live as God with us, but to die for us.

Together, these gifts tell the complete story of Jesus: the King (gold) who is God (frankincense) who will die (myrrh). They represent an extravagant acknowledgment of His full identity and mission.

The Scandal of Disproportionate Giving

The first scandal of these gifts is their disproportionate nature. By any conventional standard, these valuable items were inappropriate for a child in such humble circumstances:

They were impractical for a young family’s needs
They were disproportionate to the recipients’ social status
They created potential danger by drawing attention to the child
They crossed boundaries of propriety and expectation

This disproportionate giving challenges our carefully calibrated gift exchanges where we try to match value for value, ensuring no one gives too much or too little. The Magi gave without concern for reciprocity or appropriateness by conventional standards.

Their giving reflects God’s own disproportionate gift in Christ—a gift too valuable for our status, beyond our ability to reciprocate, and transcending the boundaries of what we might consider appropriate for our unworthiness.

The Scandal of Worship Through Giving

The text tells us the Magi “fell down and worshiped him” before presenting their gifts. This sequence is significant—their giving flowed from their worship. The gifts weren’t diplomatic gestures or social obligations but expressions of reverence and recognition.

This connection between worship and giving challenges our compartmentalized approach where we separate spiritual devotion from material resources. The Magi’s example suggests that authentic worship naturally overflows into generous giving.

As Jesus would later teach, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:21). The Magi demonstrated this principle—their treasure followed their hearts of worship.

The Scandal of Giving to One Who Needs Nothing

Perhaps the deepest scandal is that these valuable gifts were given to the One who, as Creator, already owned everything. As the psalmist declares, “The earth is the LORD’s and the fullness thereof” (Psalm 24:1).

This apparent paradox—giving to the Owner of all things—reveals something profound about the nature of true giving. The Magi’s gifts weren’t about meeting Jesus’ material needs but about expressing recognition, honor, and devotion.

This challenges our utilitarian approach to giving, where we primarily consider what the recipient needs or can use. The highest giving may not be about utility at all but about expressing value and relationship.

The Scandal of Divine Receptivity

Equally scandalous is that God, in Christ, received these gifts. The Creator accepted created things from His creatures. The self-sufficient One allowed Himself to be the recipient of human generosity.

This divine receptivity reveals God’s willingness to enter into reciprocal relationship with us. Though He needs nothing from us, He creates space for our participation and contribution. He not only gives to us but receives from us, honoring our gifts by accepting them.

This challenges religious systems that portray God as only a giver, never a receiver—as demanding service but never being served. The Christmas story shows a God who receives gifts with the same grace with which He gives them.

The Scandal of Provision Through Extravagance

There’s a practical epilogue to the Magi’s visit that’s easy to overlook. Shortly after they departed, Joseph was warned in a dream to flee to Egypt with Mary and Jesus to escape Herod’s murderous intentions. The family became refugees, living in a foreign land until Herod’s death.

How did this working-class family afford such a journey and extended stay abroad? Many scholars believe the Magi’s extravagant gifts—especially the gold—provided the necessary resources. What seemed impractically lavish became providentially practical.

This suggests another scandal—that what appears to be wasteful extravagance in God’s economy often serves purposes we can’t initially recognize. Like Mary’s “waste” of expensive perfume on Jesus’ feet (which He defended as a beautiful act), the Magi’s lavish gifts served a divine purpose beyond human calculation.

Living with Extravagant Generosity Today

The Magi’s example challenges us to reconsider our own giving, particularly during the Christmas season:

1. Giving that flows from worship

Do our gifts express genuine devotion, or are they merely social obligations? The Magi gave because they recognized Jesus’ worth. True generosity flows not from duty but from a heart captivated by Christ’s value.

2. Giving beyond calculation

The Magi didn’t calculate the appropriateness of their gifts based on social convention or expectation of return. They gave lavishly because the recipient deserved no less. What would it look like for us to give beyond careful calculation?

3. Giving that tells the true story

The Magi’s gifts told the story of Jesus—His kingship, divinity, and sacrificial death. Our giving can similarly tell the true Christmas story rather than reinforcing cultural narratives of consumption and indulgence.

4. Giving to those who cannot repay

While the Magi gave to Christ himself, we can give to “the least of these” whom Jesus identifies as His representatives (Matthew 25:40). Giving to those who cannot reciprocate reflects the heart of God’s own giving to us.

5. Giving that involves sacrifice

The Magi traveled a great distance at significant cost to bring their gifts. Sacrificial giving—giving that costs us something—reflects the ultimate gift of Christ who “though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich” (2 Corinthians 8:9).

The Ultimate Gift Exchange

The Magi’s extravagant gifts point to the ultimate gift exchange at the heart of Christmas: God gave Himself to us so that we might give ourselves to Him.

This divine gift economy operates by different principles than transactional exchanges:

It begins with God’s initiative, not our merit
It’s motivated by love, not obligation
It’s characterized by abundance, not scarcity
It’s measured by sacrifice, not market value
It’s directed toward relationship, not utility

The Magi, as outsiders to Jewish tradition, somehow grasped what many insiders missed—that the appropriate response to God’s extravagant gift is extravagant giving in return.

Beyond Christmas Consumerism

In our culture, Christmas has become synonymous with consumption and acquisition. The average American will spend over $900 on Christmas gifts this year, yet many will miss the scandal of true giving that the Magi exemplify.

The antidote to Christmas consumerism isn’t necessarily spending less (though simplicity has its place) but giving differently—giving in ways that reflect the scandal of God’s extravagant gift to us:

Giving that honors the true worth of the recipient rather than our budget constraints
Giving that expresses relationship rather than obligation
Giving that tells the true story of Christmas rather than reinforcing cultural myths
Giving that flows from worship rather than social pressure

When we embrace the scandal of extravagant giving, we participate in God’s upside-down economy where value isn’t determined by market forces but by love.

The Ongoing Scandal

The Magi’s extravagant gifts represent a scandal that continues to challenge us. Their example confronts our carefully calibrated exchanges, our utilitarian approach to giving, and our separation of spiritual devotion from material resources.

Like the other Christmas scandals we’ve explored—the scandal of incarnation and the scandal of unlikely witnesses—the scandal of extravagant gifts invites us into a different way of seeing and living. It challenges us to participate in God’s economy of abundance rather than the world’s economy of scarcity and transaction.

This Christmas, perhaps we need to let ourselves be scandalized anew by the Magi’s example. Perhaps we need to ask ourselves whether our giving—of our resources, time, attention, and ultimately ourselves—reflects the extravagant nature of God’s gift to us in Christ.

For in this divine scandal lies an invitation—an invitation to give in ways that might seem foolish by conventional standards but that align with the upside-down values of God’s kingdom. An invitation to participate in the true gift exchange at the heart of Christmas: “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich” (2 Corinthians 8:9).

As we conclude our series on the scandals of Christmas, may we embrace rather than evade these divine stumbling blocks. May we allow the incarnation, the unlikely witnesses, and the extravagant gifts to challenge our assumptions and transform our lives. For in these scandals, we discover not just the true meaning of Christmas but the revolutionary nature of the kingdom Christ came to establish.

In a world that has domesticated Christmas into a sentimental holiday, these scandals restore its revolutionary power. They remind us that the birth we celebrate wasn’t just a sweet nativity scene but the invasion of divine love into human history—an event that upends our values, challenges our systems, and invites us into a new way of being.

This Christmas, may we not merely commemorate a past event but participate in its ongoing reality. May we, like the Magi, bring our most valuable treasures and lay them at the feet of the One who gave everything for us. And may our lives become living gifts that tell the true story of the God who loved us enough to become one of us, to invite the overlooked to witness His work, and to receive our gifts with the same grace with which He gives His own.

Merry Christmas!

The Promise to Joseph

By Paula Wiseman

“But as he considered these things, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, ‘Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.'” – Matthew 1:20-21 (ESV)

Joseph’s story begins with silence.
No recorded words, just quiet contemplation,
A righteous man facing an impossible situation,
A carpenter whose carefully built plans had splintered.

The woman he loved was with child,
A child that was not his own,
A pregnancy that spoke of betrayal,
That threatened his honor and her life.

He could have exposed her publicly,
Could have demanded the law’s full penalty,
Could have protected his reputation at her expense,
But chose instead the path of quiet mercy.

“As he considered these things”—
In that space between decision and action,
In the quiet wrestling of a troubled heart,
God intervened with heavenly perspective.

“Joseph, son of David”—
Addressed not just by name but by lineage,
Reminded of his royal heritage,
His place in the unfolding story of redemption.

“Do not fear to take Mary as your wife”—
Permission to love when logic said otherwise,
Freedom to embrace what appeared scandalous,
Courage to walk a path others would question.

“For that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit”—
The impossible explanation,
The divine origin of her condition,
The miraculous truth behind apparent betrayal.

“She will bear a son”—
A child who would legally be his through adoption,
A son he would name, protect, and raise,
A boy who would learn carpentry from his calloused hands.

“You shall call his name Jesus”—
A command that made him part of the story,
A role in the divine drama,
A voice announcing the Savior’s identity.

“For he will save his people from their sins”—
Not from Roman occupation,
Not from political oppression,
But from the deeper bondage of sin itself.

“When Joseph woke from sleep,
He did as the angel of the Lord commanded him.”
No recorded questions, no expressed doubts,
Just immediate, complete obedience.

Joseph teaches us about promises received in darkness.
When life makes least sense,
When plans collapse and dreams shatter,
God’s greatest promises often arrive.

He shows us faith that acts without speaking,
Obedience that doesn’t demand explanation,
Righteousness that makes room for mystery,
Strength found in surrender to God’s larger story.

Joseph reminds us that sometimes God’s promises
Require us to embrace what others will misunderstand,
To follow divine direction when it defies human logic,
To trust heaven’s perspective when earth’s view is limited.

For the God who spoke to Joseph still speaks today,
Still invites us into stories larger than ourselves,
Still asks us to trust beyond what we can see or understand.

The question is whether we, like Joseph,
Will wake from our limited perspective
And do as the Lord commands,
Becoming part of the unfolding promise of Christmas.

The Scandal of the Incarnation

By Paula Wiseman

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” – John 1:14

The Greek word σκανδαλίζω (skandalizō) appears frequently in the New Testament. It’s where we get our English word “scandalize,” and it literally refers to a trap or stumbling block—something that trips people up or causes them to fall. When the Bible uses this term, it often points to something that offends people’s sensibilities so deeply that it becomes an obstacle to faith.

Nothing in Christian theology has been more σκανδαλίζω—more scandalous, more of a stumbling block—than the incarnation: the claim that the infinite, eternal God became a finite human baby.

Skandalizō means “to put a stumbling block or impediment in the way, upon which another may trip and fall.” This is precisely what the incarnation did to human religious expectations. It placed before us a claim so outrageous, so contrary to conventional wisdom, that many have tripped over it throughout history.

A Scandal to Everyone

The incarnation wasn’t just shocking to one group—it scandalized virtually everyone who encountered it, though for different reasons:

A Scandal to the Jews

For faithful Jews, the idea that God would become human was blasphemous. Their understanding of God emphasized His transcendence and otherness. The first commandment prohibited making any image of God, yet Christianity claimed God had made Himself into a human image.

As Paul wrote, “We preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block [skandalon] to Jews” (1 Corinthians 1:23). The incarnation contradicted their expectations of a Messiah who would come in power and glory, not vulnerability and obscurity.

A Scandal to the Greeks

For Greek philosophers, the incarnation was equally offensive but for different reasons. Their worldview separated the spiritual realm (seen as good and pure) from the material world (seen as lesser or even corrupt). The idea that a perfect deity would willingly take on corrupt flesh seemed absurd.

As Paul continued in the same verse, Christ crucified was “folly to Gentiles.” The Greek word for “folly” (moria) gives us our word “moronic.” To the sophisticated Greek mind, the incarnation wasn’t just mistaken—it was intellectually embarrassing.

A Scandal to the Romans

For Romans, power and honor were supreme values. Their gods were projections of power, not embodiments of humility. A God who would voluntarily embrace weakness, limitation, and ultimately execution by Roman authorities was incomprehensible.

A Scandal Today

The incarnation remains scandalous in our time, though for somewhat different reasons:

To materialists, the idea of transcendent divinity entering physical reality is nonsensical
To individualists, the notion of God binding Himself to human community seems unnecessary
To those who value autonomy and self-sufficiency, a God who enters into messy human dependency appears weak
To those seeking spiritual escape from physical reality, God’s embrace of embodiment seems backward

The incarnation offends human sensibilities in every era because it contradicts our natural assumptions about both divinity and humanity.

The Scandal of Divine Humility

At its core, what makes the incarnation so scandalous is its radical divine humility. As Paul describes it:

“Though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:6-8)

This voluntary self-emptying (kenosis in Greek) represents a divine humility that contradicts nearly every human conception of greatness. We associate divinity with power, control, and immunity from suffering. The incarnation gives us a God who embraces weakness, vulnerability, and pain.

Consider what the incarnation meant for the eternal Word:

The one who created time subjected Himself to its limitations
The one who is omnipresent confined Himself to a single location
The one who is omniscient experienced human learning and growth
The one who is omnipotent took on human frailty and fatigue
The one who is perfectly holy entered a world of temptation and sin
The one who is self-existent became dependent on others for survival

This is not what we expect from divinity. It’s σκανδαλίζω—a stumbling block to our natural understanding.

The Scandal of Human Dignity

While the incarnation scandalously lowers our view of God (in terms of conventional expectations), it simultaneously elevates our view of humanity in ways equally shocking.

If God could become human without ceasing to be God, then:

Human nature isn’t inherently corrupt
Despite its fallenness, human nature must be capable of union with divinity.
Embodiment isn’t a prison to escape
If God willingly took on flesh, physical existence can’t be inherently evil or inferior.
Ordinary life has extraordinary significance
The mundane realities of human existence—eating, sleeping, working, relating—have been forever dignified by divine participation.
No human is beyond divine reach
If God could bridge the infinite gap between divinity and humanity, no human condition is too broken for His presence.

This elevation of human dignity was as scandalous in the ancient world as the lowering of divine dignity. It challenged hierarchical societies that saw most humans as disposable and contradicted philosophical systems that viewed embodiment as a regrettable condition.

The Scandal of Particularity

Another scandalous aspect of the incarnation is its particularity. God didn’t become a generic human or appear simultaneously in multiple forms. He became a specific man in a specific time, place, and culture:

A Jewish man (not Greek, Roman, or Egyptian)
In first-century Palestine (not ancient China or modern America)
Born to a working-class family (not to royalty or the religious elite)
In the context of Roman occupation (not during a time of national glory)

This particularity offends our sense that God should be universal and impartial. Why these people? Why this time and place? Why these circumstances?

Yet this scandal of particularity reveals something profound: God works through the concrete and specific, not just through universal principles. He enters real human history, not an idealized abstraction of humanity.

The Scandal of Intimacy

Perhaps most scandalous of all is what the incarnation reveals about God’s desire for intimacy with us. The Word became flesh not primarily to teach us or rule us, but to be with us—Immanuel, “God with us.”

This divine longing for closeness contradicts both religious and secular assumptions:

Religious systems often emphasize maintaining proper distance from the divine
Secular thought typically sees no divine interest in human affairs at all

The incarnation suggests instead that God desires such close communion with humanity that He was willing to become one of us to achieve it. This scandalous intimacy continues to challenge our comfortable distance from God.

Embracing the Scandal

How should we respond to this scandalous claim at the heart of our faith? Several possibilities present themselves:

1. We can reject the scandal

Many throughout history have tried to domesticate the incarnation by reinterpreting it. Some suggest Jesus only appeared to be human (Docetism). Others claim He was merely human and somehow adopted by God (Adoptionism). Still others propose He was a lesser divine being, not fully God (Arianism).

These reinterpretations attempt to remove the scandal by making the incarnation more palatable to human reason. But in doing so, they lose the revolutionary power of the original claim.

2. We can rationalize the scandal

Another approach tries to make the incarnation intellectually respectable through sophisticated theological explanations. While theological reflection is valuable, we must be careful not to explain away the shock value of God becoming human.

As Dorothy Sayers observed, “The dogma of the Incarnation is the most dramatic thing about Christianity, and indeed, the most dramatic thing that ever entered the mind of man; but if you tell people so, they stare at you in bewilderment.”

3. We can embrace the scandal

The most faithful response is to embrace the scandal—to let the incarnation challenge our assumptions about both God and humanity. This means:

Allowing ourselves to be shocked again by the claim that “the Word became flesh”
Recognizing how this contradicts our natural religious instincts
Letting this scandalous truth reshape our understanding of greatness, power, and love

When we embrace rather than evade the scandal, we discover its transformative power. The incarnation becomes not just a theological doctrine but a revolutionary paradigm that inverts our values and priorities.

Living the Scandal

If we truly embrace the scandal of the incarnation, it will transform how we live:

1. It changes how we view humility

If God Himself embraced humility, we can no longer see it as weakness but must recognize it as divine strength. As Jesus taught, “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted” (Matthew 23:12).

2. It changes how we view vulnerability

The incarnation reveals a God willing to become vulnerable to rejection, suffering, and death. This divine vulnerability challenges our cultural worship of invulnerability and self-protection.

3. It changes how we view the ordinary

If God entered ordinary human existence—eating, sleeping, working with hands, experiencing family life—then these “mundane” aspects of life are infused with sacred potential.

4. It changes how we view suffering

The incarnation means God doesn’t observe human suffering from a safe distance but enters into it. This doesn’t explain suffering away, but it assures us we don’t suffer alone.

5. It changes how we view others

If God thought humanity worth becoming, we must see each person—regardless of status, ability, or circumstance—as worthy of profound dignity and respect.

The Ongoing Scandal

Two thousand years after the first Christmas, the incarnation remains as scandalous as ever. In a world that worships power, success, and self-sufficiency, the image of God as a vulnerable baby born to insignificant parents in difficult circumstances still challenges our fundamental assumptions.

This Christmas, rather than domesticating this scandal with sentimentality or familiarity, perhaps we should let it scandalize us anew. Perhaps we should allow ourselves to be shocked again by the outrageous claim that the infinite God became a finite baby, that the Creator entered His creation, that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.

For in this divine scandal lies our salvation. As Athanasius wrote in the fourth century, “He became what we are that we might become what He is.” The scandal of the incarnation is that God became human so that humans might share in divine life.

Next week, we’ll explore “The Scandal of the Witnesses”—examining why God chose to announce Christ’s birth first to shepherds, social outcasts whose testimony wasn’t even valid in court, rather than to religious leaders or people of influence.

Preparation and Expectation: Expectation vs. Expectancy

By Paula Wiseman

“Now there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon, and this man was righteous and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. And it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ… And there was a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was advanced in years… She did not depart from the temple, worshiping with fasting and prayer night and day. And coming up at that very hour she began to give thanks to God and to speak of him to all who were waiting for the redemption of Jerusalem.” – Luke 2:25-26, 36-38

The holiday season arrives wrapped in expectations. We expect perfect family gatherings, magical moments, meaningful traditions, and gifts that delight. We expect our homes to look festive, our meals to be memorable, and our spirits to be merry and bright. Yet often, these expectations become a heavy burden rather than a source of joy.

There’s a subtle but profound difference between expectations and expectancy—a difference beautifully illustrated in the stories of Simeon and Anna. These elderly faithful weren’t burdened by specific expectations about how the Messiah would appear, but they lived with a deep, patient expectancy that God would fulfill His promises in His way and time.

As we approach Christmas, their stories invite us to shift from rigid expectations to open-hearted expectancy.

The Nature of Expectations

Expectations are specific, predetermined ideas about what should happen and how. They’re the mental scripts we write for our lives and relationships. During the holidays, these expectations often become particularly intense and detailed:

The perfect Christmas tree (shaped just so, decorated just right)
The ideal family gathering (harmonious, warm, conflict-free)
The right gifts (thoughtful, appreciated, within budget)
The proper feelings (joy, wonder, gratitude, peace)

There’s nothing inherently wrong with having expectations. They can provide structure and anticipation. But expectations become problematic when they:

Become rigid and inflexible
When we insist reality must conform to our mental script, we set ourselves up for disappointment.
Focus primarily on externals
When our expectations center on appearances, circumstances, and outcomes rather than deeper meaning.
Remain unexamined
When we don’t question whether our expectations are realistic, healthy, or aligned with our true values.
Blind us to the present moment
When we’re so focused on what should be happening that we miss what is actually happening.

Many of our holiday expectations are shaped more by cultural messaging, childhood memories, or social media than by the true meaning of Christ’s coming. Advertisers and entertainers have created powerful images of what the “perfect Christmas” should look like, and these images can hijack our hearts and minds.

The Gift of Expectancy

Expectancy, by contrast, is open-ended anticipation. It’s waiting with hope and alertness, but without insisting on specific forms or timing. Expectancy says, “Something wonderful is coming,” without dictating exactly what that something must look like.

Simeon and Anna embody this quality of expectancy:

They waited for decades without growing cynical or giving up
They remained attentive and ready, even when fulfillment seemed delayed
They recognized God’s work when it came in an unexpected package—a humble baby born to ordinary parents
They responded with joy and gratitude rather than disappointment that the Messiah didn’t match conventional expectations

Their expectancy was characterized by:

Patient trust
They believed God would fulfill His promises in His time, not theirs.
Spiritual attentiveness
They cultivated the ability to recognize God’s presence and activity.
Openness to surprise
They allowed God to work in ways they couldn’t have predicted.
Focus on essence over form
They cared more about the substance of God’s promise than its outward appearance.

This kind of expectancy creates space for wonder, surprise, and authentic encounter. It allows us to be present to what is, rather than disappointed by what isn’t.

Expectations in the First Christmas

The first Christmas was a study in shattered expectations. Nearly everyone involved had their expectations upended:

Mary expected a normal engagement and marriage, not a miraculous pregnancy
Joseph expected a traditional family formation, not becoming the adoptive father of God’s Son
The shepherds expected another ordinary night watching flocks, not an angelic announcement
The wise men likely expected to find a royal child in a palace, not a humble home in Bethlehem
The religious leaders expected a Messiah who would conform to their interpretations, not challenge them

Those who clung to rigid expectations often missed the miracle. But those who remained open—who cultivated expectancy rather than specific expectations—were able to recognize and receive God’s unexpected gift.

Our Holiday Expectations

The tension between expectations and expectancy is particularly acute during the holiday season. Consider some common expectations we might hold:

1. Relational Expectations

We often expect Christmas to heal family divisions, create perfect harmony, or generate meaningful connections without effort. When Uncle Bob still brings up politics or teenagers still retreat to their phones, we feel the holiday has somehow failed.

2. Emotional Expectations

We expect to feel consistent joy, peace, and goodwill. When grief, loneliness, or irritation intrude, we wonder what’s wrong with us or think we’re “doing Christmas wrong.”

3. Spiritual Expectations

We might expect a profound spiritual experience—a moment of clarity, a sense of God’s presence, or a renewed faith. When worship feels routine or Scripture readings don’t spark insight, we may feel spiritually inadequate.

4. Material Expectations

Despite our best intentions, we often expect that the right gifts, decorations, food, or experiences will somehow create the Christmas we desire. When these things don’t deliver the meaning we seek, disappointment follows.

These expectations aren’t necessarily bad, but they can become rigid demands that rob us of joy and blind us to unexpected gifts.

Cultivating Holy Expectancy

How might we shift from rigid expectations to open-hearted expectancy this Christmas season? Here are some practical suggestions:

1. Examine your expectations

Take time to identify your unspoken expectations for the season. Ask yourself:

Where did this expectation come from?
Is it realistic?
Is it aligned with the true meaning of Christmas?
What happens if this expectation isn’t met?

Simply bringing unconscious expectations into awareness can loosen their grip.

2. Hold plans loosely

Make your holiday plans, but hold them with open hands. Build in flexibility and be willing to adapt when circumstances change. Remember that some of the most meaningful moments are unplanned.

As Proverbs reminds us, “The heart of man plans his way, but the LORD establishes his steps” (Proverbs 16:9). Sometimes God’s detours lead to unexpected blessings.

3. Practice present-moment awareness

When you find yourself anxious about how things should be, gently bring your attention back to what is actually happening right now. Notice the sights, sounds, and sensations of the present moment.

Jesus emphasized this kind of presence when He said, “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble” (Matthew 6:34).

4. Look for God in the ordinary

Like Simeon and Anna, cultivate the ability to recognize God’s presence in unexpected places. The divine often appears not in dramatic events but in ordinary moments and humble circumstances.

As Brother Lawrence wrote in “The Practice of the Presence of God,” we can find God “in the pots and pans” of daily life as surely as in formal worship.

5. Embrace imperfection

Perfect holidays exist only in commercials and movies. Real Christmas celebrations include burnt cookies, awkward conversations, forgotten items, and mixed emotions. These imperfections don’t ruin Christmas—they make it authentically human.

Remember that the first Christmas included a stable, animal odors, and uncertain futures. God works through imperfect circumstances, not despite them.

6. Focus on presence over presents

While gifts can be meaningful expressions of love, they can’t create the connection we truly desire. Prioritize being fully present with loved ones over perfect presents or productions.

As the saying goes, “The best gift you can give someone is your undivided attention.”

Simeon and Anna’s Example

Returning to Simeon and Anna, we find several qualities worth emulating:

1. Spiritual practices that sustained expectancy

Both engaged in regular spiritual disciplines—Simeon was “righteous and devout,” and Anna worshiped “with fasting and prayer night and day.” These practices kept their spiritual sensitivity alive through decades of waiting.

2. Community that shared their hope

Anna spoke “to all who were waiting for the redemption of Jerusalem.” She was part of a community that nurtured shared expectancy. We too need companions who help us maintain hope.

3. Responsiveness when God appeared

When Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to the temple, both Simeon and Anna recognized Him immediately. Their years of expectancy had prepared them to perceive God’s presence when others missed it.

4. Joy in God’s faithfulness

Simeon’s response—”Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation”—expresses profound satisfaction. His expectancy was fulfilled, though perhaps not in the way he initially imagined.

From Expectation to Expectancy

As we approach Christmas, we’re invited to make this shift from rigid expectations to open-hearted expectancy. This doesn’t mean abandoning all plans or preferences. Rather, it means holding them loosely enough that we can recognize and receive God’s gifts, even when they come in unexpected packages.

The first Christmas reminds us that God rarely works according to human expectations. The Messiah came not as a conquering king but as a vulnerable baby. Salvation arrived not through power but through apparent weakness. The greatest gift came wrapped not in gold but in swaddling clothes.

If we insist that God work according to our expectations, we may miss the wonder of how He actually chooses to work. But if we cultivate expectancy—patient, open, attentive waiting—we position ourselves to recognize divine presence in unexpected places.

As we enter the final days before Christmas, may we release our grip on specific expectations and open our hearts to holy expectancy. Like Simeon and Anna, may we be people who can recognize God’s presence even when it doesn’t match our preconceptions. And may we discover that the greatest Christmas gift isn’t found in fulfilled expectations but in unexpected encounters with divine love.

Next week, we’ll begin our Christmas series by exploring “The Scandal of the Incarnation”—how God’s decision to become human was (and remains) shocking, counterintuitive, and world-changing.

Preparation and Expectation: Preparing Room

By Paula Wiseman

“And he will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready for the Lord a people prepared.” – Luke 1:17

Have you ever had guests coming and suddenly realized your home was nowhere near ready? The frantic cleaning begins—clearing countertops, vacuuming floors, and perhaps stuffing random items into closets (please tell me I’m not the only one who does this). There’s something about an impending visit that motivates us to create space and bring order to our surroundings.

As we approach the holiday season, we’re reminded of another kind of preparation—not for holiday guests, but for Christ Himself. In the familiar Christmas carol “Joy to the World,” we sing the line “Let every heart prepare Him room.” But what does it actually mean to prepare room for Jesus in our hearts and lives?

The Original Preparation

The concept of preparing for the Lord’s coming wasn’t new with Jesus. Throughout the Old Testament, God called His people to preparation. But perhaps the clearest picture comes through John the Baptist, described in our Scripture as one who would “make ready for the Lord a people prepared.”

John’s ministry was all about preparation. He called people to repentance, to straighten crooked paths, to level mountains and fill valleys (Luke 3:4-6). His message wasn’t gentle or accommodating but urgent and direct: “Prepare the way of the Lord!”

Why was this preparation necessary? Because without it, people wouldn’t recognize the Messiah when He came. And indeed, many didn’t. Despite John’s preparatory work, many people’s hearts were so cluttered with other expectations, agendas, and attachments that they had no room for Jesus—at least not the Jesus who actually came, rather than the one they wanted.

Our Modern Clutter

Two thousand years later, we face the same challenge. Our hearts and lives easily become cluttered with things that leave little room for Christ. The irony is that this clutter often intensifies during the very season meant to celebrate His coming.

What fills our hearts and lives, potentially crowding out Christ?

1. Activity Without Purpose

The holiday season brings a flurry of activities—shopping, decorating, attending events, preparing meals. None of these are wrong, but collectively they can create such busyness that we have no space for quiet reflection or meaningful connection with God and others.

As one writer observed, “Being busy has become a status symbol in our society.” We wear our busyness like a badge of honor, forgetting that an overcrowded schedule often leads to an undernourished soul.

2. Acquisition and Accumulation

Our consumer culture reaches its zenith during the holidays. We’re bombarded with messages about what we need to buy to make the season special. The pursuit of more—more decorations, more gifts, more experiences—can leave us spiritually suffocated under the weight of material things.

Jesus warned about this when He said, “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions” (Luke 12:15). Yet how easily we forget this truth when faced with holiday marketing.

3. Anxiety and Worry

For many, the holiday season brings financial stress, family tensions, or painful memories. These legitimate concerns can consume our mental and emotional energy, leaving little capacity for experiencing God’s presence.

Jesus addressed this directly: “Do not be anxious about your life… which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?… Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you” (Matthew 6:25, 27, 33).

4. Artificial Expectations

Perhaps the most insidious form of clutter comes from unrealistic expectations—the perfect family gathering, the magical Christmas morning, the Instagram-worthy decorations. These expectations often lead to disappointment and can blind us to the simple, profound wonder of Immanuel, God with us.

Practical Preparation

So how do we prepare room for Christ this season? How do we clear the clutter that might prevent us from truly welcoming Him? Here are some practical suggestions:

1. Practice Intentional Subtraction

Preparation often involves removing things, not just adding them. Consider what you might need to subtract this season:

Maybe it’s saying no to certain events or commitments
Perhaps it’s limiting social media that fuels comparison or consumption
It could be letting go of a tradition that has lost its meaning or joy

As Richard Foster wisely noted, “In contemporary society our Adversary majors in three things: noise, hurry, and crowds. If he can keep us engaged in ‘muchness’ and ‘manyness,’ he will rest satisfied.”

What “muchness” might you need to reduce to make space for Christ?

2. Create Pockets of Silence

John the Baptist’s ministry happened in the wilderness—a place of quiet and simplicity. Similarly, we need wilderness spaces in our lives where we can hear God’s voice without distraction.

This might look like:

Setting aside your phone for the first 30 minutes of each day
Taking a silent walk to reflect and pray
Establishing a “quiet corner” in your home for daily reflection
Driving without radio or podcasts for a portion of your commute

In his book The Way of the Heart, Henri Nouwen writes, “Silence is the home of the word. Silence gives strength and fruitfulness to the word.” Without silence, the Word cannot take deep root in our lives.

3. Engage in Meaningful Advent Practices

Advent (the four weeks leading up to Christmas) was traditionally a season of preparation. Reclaiming simple Advent practices can help us prepare room for Christ:

Light Advent candles with a brief reading and prayer
Read through the Christmas narratives slowly, a few verses each day
Create a simple daily ritual that points to Christ’s coming
Use an Advent devotional to guide your reflections

These practices need not be elaborate—even five minutes of focused attention can begin to clear space in a cluttered heart.

4. Examine Your Heart

John the Baptist called people to repentance—to honest self-examination and turning from sin. This remains essential preparation for Christ’s coming into our lives.

Ask yourself:

What attitudes or actions in my life are contrary to Christ’s character?
Where have I allowed other loyalties to supersede my commitment to Christ?
What would it look like to “make straight paths” in my particular circumstances?

This examination isn’t about shame but about clearing obstacles to a deeper relationship with Jesus.

The Paradox of Preparation

There’s a beautiful paradox in preparing for Christ: while we work to make room for Him, He is simultaneously preparing us. As John’s father Zechariah prophesied, it is the Lord himself who “visited us… to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace” (Luke 1:68, 79).

Our preparation is always a response to His prior action. We make room because He first made His way to us. We clear space because He has already cleared the ultimate obstacle—sin—that separated us from God.

A Heart with Room

What might it look like to enter this Christmas season with a heart truly prepared for Christ? Perhaps it would mean experiencing:

Wonder instead of weariness
Presence instead of presents (though gifts can certainly be meaningful!)
Worship instead of worry
Simplicity instead of stress

The invitation of this season is not to do more but to make room for the One who matters most. As we sing in another beloved carol, “O come to my heart, Lord Jesus; there is room in my heart for Thee.”

Next week, we’ll explore “The Discipline of Waiting”—how the spiritual practice of patient expectation prepares us to receive what God wants to give, even in our culture of immediate gratification.

The Kingdom Parables: Living As Kingdom Citizens

By Paula Wiseman

“Then Peter came up and said to him, ‘Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?’ Jesus said to him, ‘I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times.‘ Matthew 18:21

Throughout our series on Kingdom Parables, we’ve explored various aspects of God’s kingdom—how it grows, what makes it valuable, how it exists alongside evil in the present age, and who’s invited to participate. Today, we conclude by examining how citizens of this kingdom should live, focusing on one of the most challenging aspects of kingdom citizenship: forgiveness.

The Question Behind the Parable

This parable emerges from a practical question. Peter asks, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?”

By suggesting seven times, Peter likely thought he was being generous. Jewish tradition often recommended forgiving three times, so Peter more than doubled that standard. Surely Jesus would commend his expansive spirit!

Instead, Jesus responds, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times” (or possibly “seventy times seven”—the Greek can be translated either way). Either translation makes the same point: Jesus isn’t giving a mathematical formula but is effectively saying, “Stop counting.”

Then, to illustrate why kingdom citizens should practice such radical forgiveness, Jesus tells this powerful parable.

A Debt Beyond Imagination

The parable begins with a king settling accounts with his servants. One servant owes him “ten thousand talents.” To appreciate this amount, we need to understand that a single talent was worth about 20 years of a laborer’s wages. Ten thousand talents would equal roughly 200,000 years of work—an absolutely unpayable sum.

Jesus intentionally uses this astronomical figure to represent our debt to God. Our sin against an infinitely holy God creates a moral debt we could never repay, even given countless lifetimes.

When the servant cannot pay, the king orders him and his family to be sold—a common practice for dealing with debtors in the ancient world. The servant responds with a desperate but unrealistic promise: “Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.”

This is like someone owing billions of dollars saying, “Just give me a little more time, and I’ll pay it all back.” It’s not just unlikely; it’s mathematically impossible.

Astonishing Mercy

What happens next is extraordinary. Rather than merely granting an extension, the king is moved with compassion and forgives the entire debt. This isn’t a payment plan or a reduction—it’s complete cancellation of an enormous obligation.

This represents God’s forgiveness through Christ. Our moral debt isn’t just rescheduled or reduced; it’s completely erased. As Paul writes, “God in Christ forgave you” (Ephesians 4:32). This forgiveness isn’t based on our ability to make things right but on God’s compassion and Christ’s payment on our behalf.

The Shocking Response

The story takes a dark turn when this forgiven servant encounters a fellow servant who owes him a hundred denarii—about 100 days’ wages. While not insignificant, this amount is roughly 1/600,000th of what he had been forgiven.

His response is shocking: “Seizing him, he began to choke him, saying, ‘Pay what you owe.'” When his fellow servant pleads for patience using almost identical words to his own earlier plea, he refuses and has the man imprisoned.

The contrast is stark and intentional. The first servant, forgiven an impossible debt, refuses to forgive a relatively minor one. He receives mercy but will not extend it.

The King’s Righteous Anger

When the king learns what happened, he is furious: “You wicked servant! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. And should not you have had mercy on your fellow servant, as I had mercy on you?”

The king then revokes his forgiveness and delivers the servant to “the jailers” (literally “the torturers” in Greek) until he should pay his debt—which, given the amount, means essentially forever.

Jesus concludes with a sobering application: “So also my heavenly Father will do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother from your heart.”

The Kingdom Principle of Forgiveness

This parable establishes a fundamental principle of kingdom living: those who have received God’s forgiveness must extend forgiveness to others. This isn’t a new requirement but a natural outflow of truly understanding what we’ve received.

Jesus taught this same principle in the Lord’s Prayer: “Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors” (Matthew 6:12), and added immediately afterward, “For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses” (Matthew 6:14-15).

This doesn’t mean we earn God’s forgiveness by forgiving others. Rather, it means that genuine reception of God’s forgiveness inevitably produces a forgiving spirit toward others. If that fruit is absent, it calls into question whether we’ve truly received and understood God’s mercy at all.

What Forgiveness Is (and Isn’t)

Given the importance of forgiveness in kingdom living, we need clarity about what Jesus is actually calling us to do:

Forgiveness IS:

Canceling a debt – Choosing not to hold an offense against someone or demand payment for the wrong they’ve done.
Releasing resentment – Letting go of bitter feelings and the desire for revenge.
A decision before a feeling – An act of will that may precede emotional healing.
A process – Often requiring time and repeated choices to forgive as memories and pain resurface.
Possible only by grace – Empowered by God’s Spirit rather than our own strength.

Forgiveness is NOT:

Excusing wrongdoing – Forgiveness acknowledges the reality of sin rather than minimizing it.
Denying hurt – We can be honest about our pain while still choosing to forgive.
Eliminating all consequences – Some actions have natural or legal consequences that remain even after forgiveness.
Automatic reconciliation – While forgiveness is always possible, rebuilding trust may require evidence of genuine change.
Optional for believers – Jesus presents forgiveness not as a suggestion but as a fundamental characteristic of kingdom citizens.

The Challenges of Forgiveness

Jesus’ standard of forgiveness is admittedly challenging. Several obstacles can make it particularly difficult:

1. The severity of the offense

Some wrongs seem too grievous to forgive. The deeper the wound, the harder forgiveness becomes. Yet the parable reminds us that no debt others owe us can compare to what God has forgiven us.

2. Repeated offenses

When someone hurts us repeatedly, forgiveness becomes increasingly difficult. Peter’s question about forgiving “seven times” reflects this challenge. Jesus’ answer reminds us that God’s patience with our repeated failures far exceeds what He asks us to extend to others.

3. Lack of repentance

It’s especially hard to forgive someone who doesn’t acknowledge their wrong or express remorse. While reconciliation may require repentance, our decision to forgive doesn’t. As Jesus demonstrated on the cross—”Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34)—we can forgive even the unrepentant.

4. Confusing forgiveness with trust

Sometimes we resist forgiveness because we confuse it with trust or reconciliation. But forgiveness is a gift we give regardless of the other person’s response, while trust is earned through demonstrated change.

The Freedom of Forgiveness

While forgiveness can be challenging, it brings tremendous freedom—not primarily for the offender but for the forgiver. Unforgiveness is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. It binds us to our pain and keeps us locked in the past.

Lewis Smedes captured this truth beautifully: “To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.”

When we forgive, we experience:

Emotional healing – Release from the corrosive effects of bitterness and resentment
Spiritual renewal – Restored intimacy with God as we align with His heart
Relational possibility – The potential (though not guarantee) of reconciliation
Kingdom witness – A powerful testimony to the transforming power of the gospel

Practical Steps Toward Forgiveness

How do we move toward the radical forgiveness Jesus describes? Here are some practical steps:

Acknowledge the full hurt – Forgiveness doesn’t minimize wrong but faces it honestly.
Remember your own forgiveness – Regularly reflect on the enormous debt God has forgiven you.
Distinguish between forgiveness and feelings – Choose forgiveness as an act of will, even when emotions haven’t caught up.
Pray for the one who hurt you – Jesus taught us to “pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44). This gradually transforms our hearts toward them.
Set appropriate boundaries – Forgiveness doesn’t mean allowing continued harm. Healthy boundaries may be necessary, especially with unrepentant offenders.
Seek support – For deep wounds, the journey of forgiveness often requires help from trusted friends, pastors, or counselors.
Practice daily forgiveness – Make forgiveness a regular habit with small offenses, building the spiritual muscle for larger challenges.

The Ultimate Example

As with all aspects of kingdom living, Jesus provides our ultimate example of forgiveness. On the cross, facing the greatest injustice in history, He prayed for His executioners. He didn’t wait until He felt like forgiving or until they apologized; He extended forgiveness in the midst of their active wrongdoing.

This is the pattern we’re called to follow—not in our own strength, but through the power of the same Spirit that enabled Christ’s forgiveness. As Paul instructs, “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you” (Ephesians 4:32).

Conclusion: The Heart of Kingdom Living

As we conclude our series on Kingdom Parables, it’s fitting that we end with this teaching on forgiveness. In many ways, forgiveness encapsulates the heart of kingdom living:

It acknowledges our complete dependence on God’s grace
It prioritizes relationships over rights
It values mercy over strict justice
It demonstrates the transforming power of the gospel
It extends to others what we have first received from God

The kingdom Jesus proclaimed is not primarily about power, territory, or rules, but about a new way of relating—to God and to one another. At its core is the revolutionary principle that those who have been forgiven much will love much, and this love expresses itself in extending to others the same grace we’ve received.

As we seek to live as citizens of God’s kingdom in a broken world, may we be known not primarily by our theological knowledge, moral standards, or religious activities, but by our radical, counterintuitive forgiveness—a living testimony to the King who forgave us when we could never have repaid our debt.

Thank you for journeying with me through these Kingdom Parables. May they continue to challenge and transform your understanding of what it means to live under God’s reign, both now and in the age to come.