Hope in the Midst of Horror

And may Christ, the Light of the world, shine into our darkness, that we might see Him as our only hope in the midst of a dark world filled with all kinds of evil.

Preserve us by Your hand, comfort us in our tears, and anchor us in Your promises this morning.

It’s through Jesus Christ our Lord we pray, Amen.

Introduction

Our world is filled with horrors.

We watch the news and see wars, genocide, and terrorism.

Closer to home, we hear of shootings in our neighborhoods, overdoses on our streets, abuse behind closed doors.

Just this past week, the world watched in shock as surveillance footage was released of a young Ukrainian refugee, Iryna Zarutska—who had fled the war for safety in America—being brutally killed in an unprovoked knife attack on a train in Charlotte.

Though the attack itself happened last month, the images brought her story into the national spotlight.

It is a sobering reminder that even in places we call refuge, evil finds a way to strike.

And now, this week, we grieve the news that Charlie Kirk, a well-known Christian voice in our nation, was shot and killed while speaking at a university event in Utah.

He was silenced for boldly proclaiming truth.

But the horrors don’t just live on our screens.

For some of you, they are carried in your heart—whether it be a grief for a child you’ve lost, or pain from wounds others can’t see, or the silent ache of shame that won’t go away.

And it presses the question:

Where is God when evil seems to win?

Where is hope when sorrow runs this deep?

Our passage this morning takes us into one of the darkest moments in the Advent story—not shepherds and angels, but soldiers and weeping mothers.

Yet even here, Matthew shows us that God is present, God is working, and God is giving hope through His Son.

The title of this sermon is:

“Hope in the Midst of Horror.”

Here is the message of this passage:

When evil rages, God preserves His Son to accomplish redemption, and in Him there is hope even through our tears.

Matthew shows us this in three movements in the text:

first, Jesus is Protected in Egypt;

Second, the children face Peril in Bethlehem;

And third, God offers Promise in Ramah.

Together these movements remind us that Christ is the center of God’s saving plan, the hope in every horror, and the light no darkness can overcome.

Transition:

Let’s begin where Matthew begins—in Egypt—where God shows us that in the shadow of Herod’s rage, God’s sovereign hand rises to protect His beloved Son.

Point 1: Protected in Egypt (vv. 13–15)

Matthew 2:13–15 ESV

Now when they had departed, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Rise, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you, for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” And he rose and took the child and his mother by night and departed to Egypt and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet, “Out of Egypt I called my son.”

The angel’s words are sharp, urgent, unavoidable here (pay close attention!):

“Rise… flee… remain.”

Joseph obeys immediately.

He does not wait until morning.

He wakes Mary, gathers the child, and under cover of darkness slips out of Bethlehem.

Again, Matthew is showing us Joseph’s quiet but remarkable obedience.

He trusts God’s Word and acts upon it without hesitation.

But the big question for us in the text is: Why Egypt?

Practically speaking, Egypt was safe ground.

It had a thriving Jewish community in Alexandria—over a million Jews lived there at the time, according to first century Josephus (the jewish historian) and Philo (The Jewish Philosopher from Alexandria).

Joseph could find safety and provision among his own people.

But Matthew tells us there is more.

He quotes Hosea 11:1:

Matthew 2:15 ESV

…This was to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet, “Out of Egypt I called my son.”

And here is where the richness unfolds for us like beautiful painting or song!

Hosea 11 originally referred to Israel’s exodus: God called His “son” (Exod. 4:22–23) out of Egypt.

Israel was His firstborn, redeemed by the blood of the lamb and led out of bondage.

But Matthew uses Hosea in an ironic and surprising way.

We would expect Matthew to cite this verse later—when Joseph and Mary return to Israel.

BUT Instead, he applies it here, as they leave Israel and go into Egypt.

Why?

Because Matthew is making a theological point:

That the land of Israel itself has become the new Egypt.

The land of promise has become a place of bondage under the rule of the tyrant, Herod.

Just as Pharaoh once tried to destroy God’s son, now Herod tries to do the same.

And just as God once called His son Israel out of Egypt, now He calls His Son Jesus out of the Egypt of Herod’s kingdom.

This is why the fulfillment is not straightforward—it’s ironic, even shocking.

God’s Son, the true Israel, must go down into Egypt in order to be called out again.

In other words, salvation comes when the Father calls His Son from Egypt.

The new Exodus begins not with a staff in Moses’ hand, but with a child in Joseph’s arms.

Jesus will succeed where Israel failed.

Jesus is the new and true Israel, the greater Moses, the faithful Son—our Deliverer—who leads His people in the ultimate Exodus: not out of Pharaoh’s whip or Herod’s tyranny, but out of Satan’s chains; not merely from Egypt’s bondage, but from the far deeper tyranny of sin itself.

Illustration:

Think of a modern refugee family forced to flee their homeland at night, carrying only what they can hold, not knowing if they’ll make it to safety.

To the watching world, their life looks like desperation and chaos.

But here in Matthew, Joseph’s flight is not desperation—it is sovereign direction.

To Joseph and Mary, it looked like terror.

To Herod, it looked like a missed opportunity.

But from heaven’s throne, it was divine providence.

The Son of God was being preserved for the mission of redemption.

Application:

This is what providence means for each us:

That nothing is accidental.

Nothing is wasted.

Even when you feel like you are fleeing in the dark—when life feels like chaos—God is weaving His plan with precision, dear loved ones.

Beloved, if God preserved His Son through Egypt, He will preserve you in Christ until the end.

You may feel pressed down by grief, hunted by temptation, or exiled by circumstances beyond your control, but in Christ you are never outside the Father’s hand.

And don’t miss this:

Jesus was not preserved in Egypt so that He might avoid death.

He was preserved in Egypt so that He might die at the appointed time and place—on a cross for sinners like us.

The Son who came out of Egypt is the Lamb who takes away the sins of the world. (John 1:29)

Pastoral Exhortation:

Friend, if you have not trusted in Christ, do you see the irony here in the text?

Herod’s kingdom, Israel itself, had become Egypt—a place of bondage, darkness, and death.

And apart from Christ, your own life is exactly same:

My life and your life apart from Christ is an Egypt of sin and slavery.

But here is the hope:

God calls His Son, Jesus, out of Egypt to lead you out of your bondage to sin and death as well.

Today, Trust Him, follow Him, and know that He is the faithful Son who will not fail to bring you everlasting freedom.

Transition to Point 2

But if Egypt shows us the Father’s preserving hand, Bethlehem shows us the world’s raging heart.

For while God was keeping His Son safe, Herod was unleashing his fury on the sons of Bethlehem.

And here we see the peril of every heart that refuses to bow to Christ the King.

Point 2: Peril in Bethlehem (v. 16)

Matthew 2:16 ESV

Then Herod, when he saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, became furious, and he sent and killed all the male children in Bethlehem and in all that region who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had ascertained from the wise men.

Matthew shifts from Egypt’s protection to Bethlehem’s peril.

Herod, enraged at the Magi’s obedience to God rather than to him, unleashes unspeakable violence:

The massacre of Bethlehem’s infant boys.

To secure his throne, he slaughters children.

Herod’s character was infamous.

Ancient historians record his paranoia—he executed his wife, his sons, and countless others just to protect his crown.

Matthew shows us a man of unhinged fury, driven by pride and fear.

Yet he is more than a deranged tyrant; Matthew casts him in the mold of Pharaoh.

Just as Pharaoh once ordered Hebrew boys to be slaughtered (Exod. 1:15–22), Herod does the same.

Pharaoh’s Egypt has been reborn in Herod’s Israel.

Notice the irony:

Joseph flees by night into safety, and Herod rises by day with slaughter.

And it is literally overkill.

He is searching for one child, but he massacres dozens.

Evil always overreaches.

Evil always takes you farther than you want to go, makes you stay longer than you want to stay, and it will cost you more than you want to pay.

Yet even here, Matthew reminds us, this horror is not outside of God’s sovereign plan.

This tragedy too is caught up in the purposes of God and will fulfill what Jeremiah prophesied centuries before (v. 17).

But the lesson of Bethlehem is not just their tragedy—it is our mirror.

Herod’s rebellion against Christ is not foreign to us.

The same seed of resistance dwells in every human heart.

Herod was willing to shed innocent blood to keep his throne.

And if we’re honest, apart from grace, we too will sacrifice almost anything—truth, integrity, relationships, even our own souls—just to keep control of our lives.

Real Life Examples:

Think about how this plays out in real life.

A man knows that confessing his addiction will cost him his pride, so instead he hides it and destroys his family.

A woman knows that forgiving her enemy would honor Christ, but she clings to her bitterness because it feels safer to keep her throne of anger.

A teenager knows that standing with Jesus will mean ridicule at school, so he silences his faith to protect his reputation.

Different faces, different circumstances—but it’s the same heart as Herod’s: ‘I will not give up my throne.’

But let me speak to some of you who don’t see yourselves in those examples.

Maybe you’re a parent who works hard to do everything right for your kids, but deep down, it’s about control — about keeping your world ordered around your plans, not God’s.

Maybe you’re someone who takes pride in being a good, moral, respectable person.

You’ve never gone off the rails like Herod.

You come to church, you know the language, you keep up appearances.

And yet, if you’re honest, you’ve never surrendered the throne of your heart to Jesus.

Or maybe you sit here and say,

‘I don’t even know what it would look like to identify rebellion in me.’

Friend, that’s the deception of sin — it hides itself behind busyness, morality, and even religion.

And here’s the point:

The horror of sin is not just in the obvious brokenness of an addict or a tyrant like Herod.

It’s also in the quiet self-sufficiency of the person who thinks, ‘I’ve got this.’

Whether it’s addiction, anger, pride, or even respectability — the root is the same: ‘I will not give up my throne.’

And that’s what the peril in Bethlehem exposes for us — not just Herod’s evil heart, but ours too.

Jeremiah 17:9 ESV

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?

Pastoral Exhortation:

But here is the glory of the gospel peeking through the horror this morning:

Where Herod killed others to preserve his life, Jesus laid down His own life to give life to others.

Herod shed innocent blood to keep his throne; BUT the gospel tell us that Jesus shed His own innocent blood to give us a throne with Him forever.

Not because of anything we have done, but because of the righteousness of Christ and His shed blood for us.

And this is why the church through the ages has sung with trembling gratitude and joy:

“Bearing shame and scoffing rude, In my place condemned He stood; Sealed my pardon with His blood: Hallelujah! What a Savior!” (Philip Paul Bliss, 1875)

Transition to Point 3

And so, Matthew takes us from Egypt’s protection to Bethlehem’s peril, and finally to Ramah’s lament.

The cries of Rachel echo through the centuries—but Matthew will not let lament have the last word.

Even through tears, God whispers: there is hope for your future.

Point 3: Promise in Ramah (vv. 17–18)

Matthew 2:17–18 ESV

Then was fulfilled what was spoken by the prophet Jeremiah: “A voice was heard in Ramah, weeping and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be comforted, because they are no more.”

Matthew now draws us into Jeremiah’s prophecy.

In Jeremiahs prophecy here that Matthew uses, Rachel, the matriarch of Israel who died near Bethlehem (Gen. 35:19), is pictured as weeping from her grave as her descendants are led into exile centuries earlier.

Ramah, just north of Jerusalem, was the staging ground where captives were gathered before being carried off to Babylon (Jer. 40:1).

Rachel’s weeping became the symbol of Israel’s deepest sorrow—children torn away, “no more.”

But here’s the brilliance of Matthew’s quotation:

Jeremiah 31 is not a chapter of despair—it is a chapter of hope.

In the ESV it bears the title: “The Lord Will Turn Mourning to Joy.”

That is the backdrop Matthew wants us to remember!

It is one of the brightest passages of restoration in the Old Testament.

God promises to bring His people back from exile, to rebuild their land, to renew His covenant with them, and put His law within them and write it on their hearts. (New covenant!)

Israel is pictured as a virgin bride (v. 4), as Yahweh’s firstborn son (vv. 9, 20), and as the object of His everlasting love (v. 3).

And yet Matthew plucks the gloomiest verse in the chapter—the one verse of unrelieved lament!

Why?

Because by the Spirit’s inspiration, he knows that to truly taste God’s promise, we must first face the depth of our grief.

God never bypasses lament—Rachel’s tears are not ignored, and neither are yours.

What is lament:

Lament is the honest pouring out of grief, sorrow, or complaint before God, mingled with trust in His character and hope in His promises.

God never bypasses lament.

Matthew is showing to us through Rachel’s tears and through the tears of the parents who lost their babies in Bethlehem, and he is making sense of our sorrow by showing us that…

Redemption comes only through sorrow.

Israel’s sorrow in exile was not wasted, and neither was the sorrow of the parents who lost their sons in Bethlehem—for all of it pointed forward to the greater sorrow Christ would bear on the cross, where He gave His life so that those children, and all who trust in Him today, might have everlasting life.

The end of exile comes only through exile.

God’s people were carried away before they could be brought home, and in the same way, Christ stepped into our exile under sin and judgment so that He might bring us back to God.

Salvation comes only through blood.

Not the blood of lambs on Israel’s doorposts, but the precious blood of Jesus, the true Lamb of God, who shed his blood for those who trust in him this morning.

Hebrews 9:22 ESV

…Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins.

Through the blood of Jesus, we are saved and we are forgiven.

But Jeremiah doesn’t leave Rachel in her tears.

The very next verses declare:

Jeremiah 31:16–17 ESV

Thus says the Lord: “Keep your voice from weeping, and your eyes from tears, for there is a reward for your work, declares the Lord, and they shall come back from the land of the enemy. There is hope for your future, declares the Lord, and your children shall come back to their own country.

Lament is not the last word.

Hope is.

Matthew’s point is clear:

Yes, Bethlehem’s tears are real.

Yes, the grief is bitter.

BUT they are enclosed in God’s sovereign plan, and they point forward to the greater hope now present in Christ.

The cries of Rachel anticipate the cry of Jesus on the cross, and just as exile gave way to return, so death will give way to resurrection.

Illustration:

Picture a mother in a hospital waiting room, tears streaming because her child is being wheeled into surgery.

Every fiber of her being wants to scream, “No!”—but she knows the pain is the only pathway to healing.

That’s the tension of Jeremiah 31 and of Matthew 2:

Sorrow is real, but it is also pregnant with promise.

This is exactly how Paul describes our experience in Romans 8:

Romans 8:18–23 ESV

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope!! that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.

Like that mother in the waiting room, we groan—but our groaning is not empty.

It points forward to healing, to glory, to resurrection.

The cries of Rachel anticipate the groans of creation, and both are answered in Christ, the Son who turns mourning into joy.

Exposition & Theology:

Matthew is the only New Testament writer to name Jeremiah—and he does it twice.

Here, in the blood of Bethlehem’s infants; and later, in the blood money of Judas (Matt. 27:9–10).

Both times, the prophet of lament is invoked in connection with blood, betrayal, and tears.

Matthew by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit is masterfully stitching these scenes together to show that all the sorrows converge on Christ.

The slaughter of the children foreshadows the slaughter of the Messiah.

Their deaths point to His death.

And His death will bring the dawn of a new creation, the end of exile, the wiping away of every tear.

Application:

Dear loved ones in Christ, this passage presses upon us two profound truths that reach into the very depths of the human heart.

Truths that matter for every one of us who has walked this earth long enough to taste sorrow, who are even now carrying sorrow, or who will inevitably face sorrow in the days to come.

First, God does not minimize your tears.

He does not brush them aside or dismiss them.

Rachel’s lament is given voice and space in Scripture.

So too, your grief is seen, honored, and remembered by God.

He keeps count of our tossings, and put our tears in His bottle” (Ps. 56:8)

Second, God does not let sorrow have the last word.

In Christ, tears are transformed into hope, exile into restoration, death into resurrection.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more!!!” (Rev. 21:4).

No more death. No more horror!

Pastoral Exhortation:

The promise of Ramah is for you my dear friend.

If you remain in your sin, then your tears will end only in exile—separation from God forever.

But if you are in Christ, then even your deepest sorrows are birth pangs of glory in the new creation.

The Child preserved from Herod’s sword is the Son crucified for your salvation.

And because King Jesus lives, there is hope for your future.

Conclusion

In 1945, as Allied forces liberated the concentration camp at Buchenwald, they found a prayer etched into the wall of a barrack where thousands had perished:

“I believe in the sun, even when it is not shining.

I believe in love, even when I cannot feel it.

I believe in God, even when He is silent.”

Beloved, our passage this morning tells us why such words can be true.

Because in the midst of horror, God preserved His Son.

In the midst of slaughter, God was bringing salvation.

In the midst of weeping, God was writing the promise of joy.

Herod’s sword could not silence God’s plan.

Rachel’s tears could not erase God’s promise.

And not even the grave could hold God’s Son.

And here is the comfort:

“Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning” (Ps. 30:5).

“He keeps count of your tossings; He keeps your tears in His bottle. They are in his book?” (Ps. 56:8 - Paraphrase)

Every sorrow is remembered, every tear is counted, every night of weeping is moving toward the dawn of joy in Christ.

Final Pastoral Exhortation:

So, weary traveler, when darkness rages, cling to Christ.

When sorrow overwhelms, trust the promises of God.

When hope feels lost, remember:

Christ is our only hope in the life and death.

Christ is our only hope in the midst of horror.

Transition to the Lord’s Table:

And that is what we declare now as we come to the Table.

Here we taste the bread and the cup and we proclaim that the Child preserved in Egypt is the Son crucified on Calvary and risen from the grave — and in Him, there is hope for the future of those whose hope is in Him.

So come, Christian — come with your tears, your groaning, your weakness — and feed on Christ by faith.

For at this Table, sorrow does not have the last word.

Christ does. (repeat)

PRAY

O Lord, You have told us that “weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning” (Ps. 30:5).

You have promised that “You keep count of our tossings, and put our tears in Your bottle” (Ps. 56:8).

And You have shown us in Christ that every sorrow is remembered, and every tear is redeemed.

As we now come to this Table, we come not in our strength but in our weakness.

We come with our tears, our groaning, our longing for the redemption of our bodies.

And we come in faith, trusting the Son who was preserved in Egypt, crucified on Calvary, and raised from the grave.

Feed us now with Christ, O Lord.

Strengthen our weary hearts with His body and blood.

And let this bread and this cup remind us that sorrow does not have the last word. Christ does.

In Christ’s precious name we pray, Amen.

Bibliography

Scripture

The Holy Bible: English Standard Version. Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2016.

Commentaries & Theological Works

Bruner, Frederick Dale. Matthew: A Commentary. Volume 1: The Christbook, Matthew 1–12. Revised and expanded ed. Grand Rapids, MI; Cambridge, U.K.: William B. Eerdmans, 2007.

Peter J. Leithart, The Baptized Body (Moscow, ID: Canon Press, 2007).

Calvin, John. Institutes of the Christian Religion. Edited by John T. McNeill. Translated by Ford Lewis Battles. 2 vols. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1960.

Nolland, John. The Gospel of Matthew: A Commentary on the Greek Text. New International Greek Testament Commentary. Grand Rapids, MI; Carlisle, U.K.: Wm. B. Eerdmans; Paternoster Press, 2005.

Osborne, Grant R. Matthew. Zondervan Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament, vol. 1. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2010.

Quarles, Charles L. Matthew. Evangelical Biblical Theology Commentary. Edited by T. Desmond Alexander, Thomas R. Schreiner, and Andreas J. Köstenberger. Bellingham, WA: Lexham Academic, 2022.

Classical Jewish Sources

Josephus, Flavius. The Works of Josephus: Complete and Unabridged. Translated by William Whiston. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1987.

Philo of Alexandria. The Works of Philo: Complete and Unabridged. Translated by C. D. Yonge. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1993.

See esp. “On the Embassy to Gaius.”

Historical & Illustrative

“Anonymous Prisoner’s Inscription (Buchenwald, 1945).” Often quoted as: “I believe in the sun, even when it is not shining…” (provenance commonly attributed to a barracks wall at Buchenwald).

BBC News. “Charlotte Light Rail Stabbing: Man Charged with Murder of Ukrainian Refugee Iryna Zarutska.” BBC News, September 3, 2025. https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c4g7z8pk0j3o.

Hymns & Worship

Bliss, Philip Paul. “Man of Sorrows! What a Name.” 1875.

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