A Weary World Needs a Savior

Matthew 1:1-17

ADVENT WEEK 2 — PEACE

Reader: Good morning, Church. Today we continue our Advent journey by lighting the Candle of Peace. Advent reminds us that while the world searches for peace through power, politics, or control, God brings peace through a Person. True peace does not come from changed circumstances, but from a restored relationship with God.

Scripture Reading — Isaiah 40:1–5 (ESV) “Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem… The voice of one crying in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the LORD; make straight in the desert a highway for our God.’”

Reader: God promised His people comfort long before Christ arrived. And when Jesus came, He didn’t just speak peace — He made peace. Through His life, death, and resurrection, Jesus reconciled sinners to a holy God.

Scripture Reading — Luke 2:14 (ESV) “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!”

Reader: As we light the second candle, we remember this: Jesus is our peace. Peace with God. Peace for troubled hearts. Peace that stands firm even when the world feels unsteady.

(Light the second purple candle.)

Reader: Let us pray. Father, thank You for the peace we have through Jesus Christ. Calm our anxious hearts and teach us to trust You fully. May Your peace rule in us as we wait for You. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Good morning Church.

Welcome to our second week in our Christmas Series.

Last week, we looked at Isaiah 9 and that this broken and depraved world was waiting on a savior

That a child would be born, that a son would be given,

and he would be called wonderful councelor, mighty God, everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

And I really wanted us to wrestle with the question of what if we kept the main thing the main thing this Christmas season— how would it look different?

Instead of stuff, instead of the lights, and movies, and Christmas trees, and even family, what if we put Jesus at the center of it all.

And I think if we are not careful— we can treat the wonders of wonders as if it is just part of the Christmas tradition.

We can not lose our awe and wonder of the fact that the Son of God stepped off of the throne to be born of a virgin in a manger.

We cant fully wrap our minds around that. That Jesus is fully God and fully man. That’s incredible.

JI Packer once said “The supreme mystery of the gospel is that the Son of God became the Son of Man so that the sons of men might become the sons of God.”

Thats amazing. That God would do that for us. That God so loved the World He have his only begotten Son.

But for some of us— we take the most miraclous event in human history and we put it on the shelf and stick it next to our copy of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer and Miracle on 34th Street.

and stick Jesus next to Santa Claus.

And the things is the real Santa Claus would punch us in the face if he saw us doing that.

ya’ll do realize that Santa Claus is based off of a real person, right?

Saint Nicholas of Myra was not a cartoon character in a red suit.

He was a fourth-century Christian pastor in what is now modern-day Turkey.

He shepherded a real church in a real city under real persecution. Tradition tells us he was imprisoned for his faith under the Roman Empire.

He was known for radical generosity, especially toward the poor. One of the most famous stories is that he secretly gave money to save young girls from being sold into slavery by providing dowries their family could not afford. That generosity, done quietly and faithfully, is the seed that eventually grows into gift-giving traditions.

But Nicholas wasn’t just kind—he was theologically serious.

Church history tells us that at the Council of Nicaea in AD 325, where the church gathered to defend the truth of who Jesus is, a man named Arius was teaching that Jesus was not fully God. Arius said the Son was a created being, not eternal.

Thats a heresy and allegedly, according to church tradition—Nicholas got so fired up defending the deity of Christ. that he got up, walked over to Arius, punched Arius that heretic in the face. Ho-ho-ho Slap

We need more men like that in the church today, ready to throw righteous hands for the glory of God.

He understood the magnitude the situation. He was defending the gospel.

He understood that if Jesus is not fully God, then its all is meaningless.

and over time, stories about Nicholas spread across Europe.

His name changed—Sinterklaas in Dutch. His feast day became a time for generosity and celebration.

Then he crossed the Atlantic, got wrapped up in American consumerism, picked up a sleigh, some reindeer, a North Pole address, and eventually became the jolly, fictional Santa Claus we know today. Somewhere along the way, a bold Christian pastor who suffered for Christ and defended the incarnation got turned into a mascot for mall photos and soda commercials.

And here’s the point. When we put Jesus next to Santa on the shelf, we do the same thing culturally that history did accidentally. We turn truth into tradition. We turn incarnation into imagination.

Saint Nicholas would hate that. He would absolutely hate that. Because Nicholas didn’t give gifts to distract people from Christ—he gave gifts because of Christ. He didn’t defend doctrine because he was angry—he defended doctrine because eternity was at stake.

Christmas is not a story we tell to feel warm and cozy.

It is a declaration. Its a declaration that God put on flesh, stepped into our mess, and came to save sinners. Jesus is not the Christian version of Santa. Santa is a faint, distorted echo of a man who loved Jesus. And Jesus does not belong on a shelf. He belongs on the throne.

And Jesus being born in the immaculate conception—by the holy Spirit, through the virgin, to live the life we couldn’t, to die the death we should have, was always the plan.

There was no plan B.

From eternity past— this was always God’s plan.

When Adam and Eve sinned in the garden of Edon by eating the fruit from the knowledge of good and evil.

God said in Genesis 3:15

Genesis 3:15 ESV

I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.”

This is known as thw Protoevangelium. The First mention of the Gospel. Since Genesis 3, the people werewaiting for the serpent crusher.

and all throughout the Old Testament— God slowly revealed things to help the people identify who the serpent crusher, who the savior would be.

Thats why Matthew and Luke have genaologies in them.

Most of don’t read the genaologies and we typically cant pronounce 3/4th of the names.

But in our time together this morning, we are going to do a deep dive into Matthew 1 and dive into the significance of the genealogy of Jesus and who it points us to the Savior that this weary world needs.

Matthew 1:1-17

The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.

2 Abraham was the father of Isaac, and Isaac the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers, 3 and Judah the father of Perez and Zerah by Tamar, and Perez the father of Hezron, and Hezron the father of Ram, 4 and Ram the father of Amminadab, and Amminadab the father of Nahshon (NA-Shon) , and Nahshon the father of Salmon, 5 and Salmon the father of Boaz by Rahab, and Boaz the father of Obed by Ruth, and Obed the father of Jesse, 6 and Jesse the father of David the king.

And David was the father of Solomon by the wife of Uriah, 7 and Solomon the father of Rehoboam, and Rehoboam the father of Abijah (ah-ba-jah), and Abijah the father of Asaph,[b] 8 and Asaph the father of Jehoshaphat, and Jehoshaphat the father of Joram, and Joram the father of Uzziah, 9 and Uzziah the father of Jotham, and Jotham the father of Ahaz, and Ahaz the father of Hezekiah, 10 and Hezekiah the father of Manasseh, and Manasseh the father of Amos,[c] and Amos the father of Josiah, 11 and Josiah the father of Jechoniah (Jeck-O-Ni-Ah) and his brothers, at the time of the deportation to Babylon.

12 And after the deportation to Babylon: Jechoniah was the father of Shealtiel (she-el-te-el), and Shealtiel the father of Zerubbabel, 13 and Zerubbabel the father of Abiud, and Abiud the father of Eliakim, and Eliakim the father of Azor, 14 and Azor the father of Zadok, and Zadok the father of Achim, and Achim the father of Eliud, 15 and Eliud the father of Eleazar, and Eleazar the father of Matthan (ma-thaun), and Matthan the father of Jacob, 16 and Jacob the father of Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born, who is called Christ.

17 So all the generations from Abraham to David were fourteen generations, and from David to the deportation to Babylon fourteen generations, and from the deportation to Babylon to the Christ fourteen generations.

Pray

Seventeen verses of names—hard to pronounce, easy to ignore. And yet Matthew opens his Gospel here on purpose. Because before he tells us what Jesus did, he wants us to understand who Jesus is. And he does that through a genealogy.

That alone should slow us down.

Because weary people don’t just need inspiration. Weary people don’t just need encouragement. Weary people need a Savior who is rooted in real history and real promises.

Truth #1: God Keeps His Promises

Matthew opens his Gospel with these words:

“The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham” (Matthew 1:1, ESV).

That sentence is not sentimental. It is covenant language. Matthew is anchoring Jesus to two massive, history-shaping promises God made centuries earlier.

First, God promised Abraham blessing.

In Genesis 12:1–3, God calls Abram out of obscurity and says:

“I will make of you a great nation… and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (ESV).

That blessing was never just about land, wealth, or descendants. Paul makes it clear in Galatians 3:8 that the ultimate blessing promised to Abraham was the gospel itself—the arrival of a Savior through whom salvation would come to the nations.

Matthew is saying, “Jesus is that blessing.”

He is the fulfillment of what God promised to Abraham two thousand years earlier.

Second, God promised David a King.

In 2 Samuel 7:12–16, God makes a covenant with David:

“…I will raise up your offspring after you…your kingdom shall be made sure forever before me. Your throne shall be established forever.- 2 Samuel 7:12-16” (ESV).

Forever? Forever forever - foreva eva

We would look at these verses and say how can that be?

Because after David, the line continues through Solomon, whose early wisdom gave way to divided loyalties.

His heart drifted toward idols, and when his son takes over—Rehoboam—the nation divdes into two. The northern nation of Israel and the southern nation of Judah.

From there, the line of David goes south and the kings of Judah spiral downward.

Some were briefly faithful—men like Asa and Jehoshaphat—but most were marked by doing evil in the eyes of the Lord.

Ahaz sacrificed his own son and shut the doors of the temple.

Manasseh filled Jerusalem with idols, bloodshed, children sacrifice and led the nation into deep spiritual darkness.

Over and over again, God sent prophets, warnings, and calls to repentance, but the kings and the people refused to listen.

Eventually, judgment came.

In 586 BC, Babylon marches into Jerusalem under King Nebuchadnezzar. The city is besieged. The walls are torn down.

The temple—the very place that symbolized God’s presence—is burned to the ground. The people are slaughtered or carried off into exile. And the last king in David’s line to sit on the throne, Zedekiah, watches his sons executed before his eyes and then has his eyes gouged out.

That is how the monarchy ends.

Humanly speaking, that is the end of the promise.

Psalm 89 even voices the people’s confusion and pain, crying out as if God’s promise has failed. From the outside, it looks like God broke His word.

No king. No throne. No temple. No independence.

David’s line looked finished.

And yet Matthew refuses to let us believe that God’s promises collapsed with Jerusalem’s walls.

Because even in exile, the line did not end.

The last king listed before the exile is Jeconiah (Jeck-O-Ni-Ah)— in 2 Kings 2, he is called Jehoiachin (je-ho-ah-kin).

He reigned for 3 months and 10 days. He was King for 100 days before Babylon carried him away in chains. And Babylon names Jehoiachin’s uncle Zedekiah as king and you kind of just assume he wasn’t important.

But Scripture tells us something remarkable.

The final paragraph of Kings feels almost out of place and intentionally so. In 2 Kings 25:27–30, after 37 years in prison, Jehoiachin is released, given a seat at the table of the Babylonian king, and provided for the rest of his life.

It seems small but it is so significant. The royal line still lives.

The promise of God did not die because Jerusalem fell.

Then Matthew traces the genealogy through the exile.

Names like Shealtiel (she-el-te-el) and Zerubbabel appear—men who lived under foreign rule, without crowns, without palaces, without power. Zerubbabel would later help lead the return from exile and oversee the rebuilding of the temple’s foundation (Ezra 3).

No throne. No kingdom. But the promise keeps moving forward.

This is how God keeps His word.

through a remnant, through faithful preservation.

God did not promise David an uninterrupted dynasty. He promised an eternal King. And when the throne disappeared, God preserved the line until the right moment.

That’s why Matthew ends the genealogy with Joseph, a carpenter—not a king. No crown. No palace. Just obedience. And through Joseph, Jesus inherits the legal right to David’s throne. Through Mary, He carries the bloodline of David (Luke 3). God keeps the promise fully, perfectly, and precisely.

So when Jerusalem fell, the promise did not fail. When the kings collapsed, the covenant did not collapse.

A weary world needs to hear this.

Because some of us are standing in the ruins of what we thought God promised. Dreams look burned down. Things we thought for sure were going to happen that did not end up happening the way we drew them up.

And Matthew wants us to know—God does some of His best work when it looks like the story is over.

The genealogy proves this truth: God keeps His promises—even when it takes generations. Even through failure. Even through exile. Even when the throne looks empty.

Because the throne was never empty. God was just preparing it for His Son.

Even when they return, 70 years later under Persian rule, there is not a king. There is a governor—Zerubbel.

For centuries, there was no king. No crown. No throne. Four hundred years of silence between Malachi and Matthew.

And yet Matthew opens his Gospel by saying, “The King has come.”

Jesus is the true Son of David. Not just another ruler, but the eternal King whose kingdom will never end. The genealogy is Matthew’s way of saying: God did exactly what He said He would do—even when it took longer than anyone expected.

Delay does not mean denial. Silence does not mean abandonment. God is never late, and He is never confused. He is working across generations in ways we cannot see in the moment.

Some of you are living in the waiting right now. You are holding onto promises that feel old. You are praying prayers that feel unanswered. Your still waiting for your prodogial to come back home. And this genealogy stands as a testimony that God’s promises do not expire with time.

The world was weary when Jesus arrived. Israel was tired of waiting. And at just the right time—God kept His word.

A weary world doesn’t need wishful thinking. It needs a promise-keeping Savior. And Matthew wants us to know from verse one—Jesus is that Savior.

Truth #2: God Works Through Broken People

If you actually slow down and read this genealogy, one thing becomes painfully clear—this family tree is a mess. And that is not a mistake. That is the message.

This is not a list of spiritual all-stars. It is a record of adulterers, deceivers, idolaters, cowards, outsiders, and failures. These are people whose names are forever attached to moments they probably wished were forgotten.

Take Abraham. He is the father of faith, but he also lies about his wife twice because he is afraid (Genesis 12; 20). He trusts God one moment and schemes the next.

Then there’s Jacob. His name literally means deceiver. He lies to his father, steals his brother’s blessing, and spends years reaping the consequences of his manipulation.

Judah—one of the names Matthew highlights—sleeps with Tamar, his daughter-in-law, thinking she is a prostitute (Genesis 38). And Matthew makes sure Tamar’s name stays in the story. He doesn’t soften it. He doesn’t clean it up.

Then there’s David. Israel’s greatest king. A man after God’s own heart. And yet he commits adultery with Bathsheba, arranges the murder of her husband Uriah, and spends the rest of his life living with the fallout of that sin (2 Samuel 11–12). Matthew doesn’t even say Bathsheba’s name—he calls her “the wife of Uriah,” as if to make sure we don’t forget what David did.

Solomon, the wisest man who ever lived, loves foreign women more than he loves God. He builds temples not just to the Lord, but to false gods. His divided heart leads the nation toward division and decline (1 Kings 11).

And then come the kings. One after another, the Bible summarizes their reign with the same devastating line: “He did what was evil in the sight of the Lord.” They tolerate idols. They ignore prophets. They lead God’s people deeper into rebellion.

And then Matthew includes women—which is a pretty big deal

In the ancient world, genealogies almost never included women. This wasn’t because women were unimportant, but because genealogies were legal documents.

They traced inheritance, land rights, and royal claims through male lineage. If Matthew wanted to sound credible, respectable, and airtight, he could have left them out—and no one would have questioned it.

But the Holy Spirit through Matthew doesn’t leave them out. He highlights them.

And not just any women.

He includes Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and “the wife of Uriah.”

That should make us stop.

Because Matthew isn’t just telling us where Jesus came from. He’s telling us what kind of Savior Jesus is.

The women show us that God’s grace works through scandal, not perfection

Tamar’s story is uncomfortable. She is wronged, ignored, and forced into desperate measures (Genesis 38). Her life is marked by brokenness and injustice. And yet God uses her to continue the messianic line.

Rahab is a prostitute. Her name is permanently attached to her past (Joshua 2). She is a Gentile. She lives in Jericho—enemy territory. And yet she believes the God of Israel, risks her life, and is saved by faith. Hebrews 11 lists her as a woman of faith.

Ruth is a Moabite. Moabites were outsiders, enemies, and spiritually suspect. And yet Ruth clings to Naomi and declares, “Your God will be my God” (Ruth 1:16). She becomes the great-grandmother of David.

Bathsheba—she isn’t even named. She called “the wife of Uriah.” Why? Because Matthew wants us to remember David’s sin. Adultery. Abuse of power. Murder. And still—God’s redemptive plan moves forward.

What this is showing us is that God does not build His plan on spotless résumés. He builds it on grace.

We also see that God’s salvation is for outsiders, not just insiders

Every woman listed is either a Gentile or associated with Gentiles.

Tamar likely lived among Canaanites. Rahab is a Canaanite. Ruth is a Moabite. Bathsheba is married to a Hittite.

Before Jesus ever commands, “Go and make disciples of all nations,” Matthew shows us that the nations were always part of the plan.

The Savior of Israel is also the Savior of the world.

Which means this genealogy is already preaching the gospel: no ethnicity, background, sin, or story puts you outside the reach of God’s grace.

The women also prepare us for the kind of birth Jesus will have

Matthew includes women with complicated stories to prepare us for the most unexpected woman of all—Mary.

Because when Matthew gets to verse 16, the pattern changes.

Joseph is not said to be the father of Jesus. Jesus is born of Mary.

Which is also part of the protevanglium of Genesis 3- The serpent crusher would come from the seed of the woman.

That means it ain’t biology that makes the child.

its through divine intervention. By grace, not biology.

The same God who works through scandal, outsiders, and broken stories now works through a virgin birth to bring salvation to the world.

The genealogy is telling us: Don’t be surprised. This is how God has always worked.

Think about this.

the genealogy of Jesus is preaching grace before Jesus ever preaches a sermon.

God does not erase broken people from the story. He redeems them. God does not wait for perfect faith to work—He works through repentance, humility, and His own sovereign grace.

Jesus does not come from a sanitized lineage. He comes from a broken one.

Which means your past does not disqualify you. Your worst chapter does not get the final word. Your family history does not determine your future in Christ.

Grace runs through this genealogy. And it runs straight to the cross.

Because the same Jesus who comes from sinners is the Savior who dies for sinners.

You don’t need to clean himself up to come to Jesus. Jesus came precisely because we cannot clean ourselves up. He steps into the mess, bears the shame, and redeems what looks beyond repair.

This genealogy tells us that God’s plan has always moved forward—not through perfect people, but through grace.

No one is too far gone from the grace of God.

Truth #3: God Sends a Savior into Our Waiting, Not Around It

The Bible tells us in verse 17 that this genealogy is intentionally arranged into three sets of fourteen generations.

In Hebrew, letters have numerical values. The name David adds up to fourteen. Matthew is essentially underlining this point in bold: Jesus is the Son of David.

But there’s more to it. The structure tells a story.

Scripture is showing us that history is not random—it is ordered, directed, and purposeful under the hand of God.

From Abraham to David is the story of rise.

God calls one man out of pagan darkness and makes him a promise: a land, a people, and a blessing that will reach the nations (Genesis 12:1–3). Abraham’s family grows.

Isaac is born by promise, not strength. Jacob becomes Israel. Twelve sons become twelve tribes. The nation multiplies in Egypt, is redeemed through the Exodus, and eventually settles in the land. God raises up David, a shepherd boy, and places him on the throne. Jerusalem becomes the capital.

The kingdom is united. God makes a covenant with David, promising that one of his sons will sit on the throne forever (2 Samuel 7:12–16). There is momentum. There is confidence. There is hope that the promises are finally coming true.

From David to the exile is the story of fall. The kings who follow David repeatedly abandon the Lord. Solomon’s heart turns toward idols. The kingdom fractures. The northern kingdom of Israel plunges into open rebellion and is destroyed by Assyria. Judah lasts longer, but not because it is better—only because God is patient. Prophets rise up again and again. Isaiah warns. Jeremiah weeps. Ezekiel speaks from exile. The message is consistent: repent and return to the Lord. But the kings harden their hearts. The people refuse to listen. Idolatry spreads. Injustice becomes normal. Covenant faithfulness is replaced with empty religion. Eventually, judgment comes. Babylon lays siege to Jerusalem. The walls are torn down. The temple—the symbol of God’s dwelling with His people—is burned to the ground (2 Kings 25). The sons of David are dragged off in chains. The throne is empty. The land is devastated.

And from the exile to Christ is the story of waiting.

there used to be this theologian from Gainesville- who would always say that the wait is the hardest part.

Judah returns from Babylon under Persian rule, but the glory never comes back. There is no king from David’s line on the throne. There is no independent nation. The second temple is smaller and less glorious than the first (Haggai 2:3).And Scripture never says that the Spirit of the Lord returns to the Temple.

Prophets like Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi speak, calling the people to faithfulness, but then Malachi closes with a promise that Elijah will come before the day of the Lord (Malachi 4:5–6). And after that—silence.

For nearly four hundred years, there is no prophet. No new Scripture. No visions recorded. No miracles like the days of Moses or Elijah. Empires rise and fall overhead. Persia gives way to Greece. Greece fractures after Alexander. Rome eventually tightens its grip. God’s people are back in the land, but they are never truly free. They are taxed. Watched. Controlled. The promises to Abraham and David feel distant. The covenant seems stalled. Many begin to wonder if God has forgotten them.

This is the season Jesus is born into.

Not revival. Not victory. Not national strength. But waiting. Weariness. Longing.

And that matters, because God does not send a Savior around suffering. He sends a Savior into it. Jesus does not enter history at the height of Israel’s power, but at its lowest point. He is born under Roman occupation. He grows up in obscurity. He is raised in Nazareth, a town with no reputation and no significance. He is known not as a prince, but as “the carpenter’s son” (Matthew 13:55). The true King of Israel lives without a throne, without political power, and without public acclaim.

The King enters quietly. The Savior comes humbly. The hope of the world arrives in a feed trough.

That tells us something about how God works. He is not impressed by strength. He is not dependent on momentum. He does His greatest work in places that look forgotten. Which means if you feel overlooked, stuck, or buried in a long season of waiting, you are not outside God’s plan. You are standing in the very territory where God has always loved to move.

Waiting is not wasted when God is involved.

The genealogy reminds us that God was just as active during the silent years as He was during the miraculous ones. Even when no prophet spoke, God was preserving the line of David. Even when no king reigned, God was keeping His promise. Even when heaven felt quiet, history was being arranged down to the exact generation when Christ would come.

Paul captures it perfectly in Galatians 4:4 (ESV): “But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son.”

Not early. Not late. Right on time.

A weary world does not need a better version of itself. It does not need stronger leaders, improved morals, or another round of self-effort. A weary world needs a Savior.

And Matthew wants us to see from the very beginning—Jesus is that Savior.

And that brings us to this moment.

After seventeen verses of names, after centuries of waiting, after exile and silence and spiritual fatigue, Matthew finally lifts his head from the genealogy and says, “Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way” (Matthew 1:18).

That word now carries weight.

This is the story arriving exactly where God said it would.

The Holy Spirit wants us to understand that Christmas is not God improvising. It is God fulfilling. Every name in that genealogy has been moving us toward this sentence. Every generation—faithful and faithless, strong and broken—has been part of God’s deliberate preparation.

And the first thing Matthew does is anchor the birth of Jesus in Scripture.

He tells us that Mary conceives by the Holy Spirit, not by human effort or plan.

Joseph is confused and afraid, ready to quietly step away, until the angel of the Lord appears and tells him that what is happening is not scandal—it is salvation (Matthew 1:20–21). This child is conceived by God, named by God, and sent by God.

Then Matthew reaches back into the prophet Isaiah and says this is what God was talking about all along:

“Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel” (Matthew 1:23, quoting Isaiah 7:14, ESV).

Immanuel—God with us.

Not God shouting instructions from heaven.

God with us.

After centuries of waiting, God does not send another prophet. He does not send another law. He does not send another warning. He sends Himself. The eternal Son steps into time. The Creator enters creation. The Holy One takes on flesh.

Jesus is born into obscurity. He is laid in a manger because there is no room in the inn (Luke 2:7). He grows up in a working-class home. He knows hunger, fatigue, rejection, and grief. And yet He enters the world exactly as promised.

Every detail unfolds according to God’s will. Nothing is rushed. Nothing is missed.

And then we turn from Matthew 1 to Matthew 2.

and we’re told that Magi from the East come searching for the newborn King.

These are not Jewish shepherds. They are not priests. They are outsiders—Gentile scholars, wise men, astronomers.

So we ask the logical question: How did they know to look for Him?

Here’s where the book of Daniel comes in.

Six/seven hundred years earlier, during the Babylonian exile, King Nebuchadnezzar takes all the gold out of the temple, and the people are exile. Daniel is one of the people taken captive and exiled to Babylon… which would have been the east.

And in Daniel 2:48, after interpreting the king’s dream, we’re told something remarkable:

“Then the king gave Daniel high honors… and made him ruler over the whole province of Babylon and chief prefect over all the wise men (magi) of Babylon” (ESV).

Daniel is placed over the Magi.

Which means the people who studied dreams, signs, and the heavens were discipled—at least in part—by a man who knew the God of Israel, trusted His Word, and believed His promises.

Daniel didn’t just interpret dreams. The whole back half of the book of Daniel is about all these prophecies about the coming messiah— the serpent crusher.

So what if—generation after generation—those truths were passed down?

What if Daniel taught them to look for something more than stars? What if he taught them to wait for a King not like Nebuchadnezzar, but greater? What if centuries later, when a strange star appeared, some remembered the words of a faithful exile who told them God keeps His promises?

They didn’t just follow a star. They followed a story. They followed a hope planted long before they were born.

And when they arrive, notice the contrast.

Jerusalem is troubled. Herod is threatened. The religious leaders know the Scriptures but don’t move their feet.

But the outsiders fall down and worship.

Gold. Frankincense. Myrrh.

These are not random gifts. Each gift specifically tied to who Jesus is.

Gold is the gift you bring to royalty. Throughout Scripture, gold is associated with kings, kingdoms, and authority. When the queen of Sheba visits Solomon, she brings gold in abundance because that is what you bring to a king (1 Kings 10:2). Psalm 72 even connects gold with the reign of the righteous king, pointing forward to the Messiah (Psalm 72:15).

Gold was also used throughout the tabernacle and the temple to reflect glory, beauty, and authority. It was a visible symbol of power and worth.

Frankincense was used exclusively in worship. In Exodus 30, God gives very specific instructions for how frankincense was to be used in the temple. It was burned as an offering to the Lord, symbolizing prayers rising up to God (Exodus 30:34–38; Psalm 141:2). It was never offered to a mere human being.

And yet here are Gentile worshipers offering a divine gift to a child.

Frankincense declares that Jesus is more than a king—He is God with us (Matthew 1:23).

He is worthy of worship. He is the mediator between God and man. Long before Hebrews ever tells us that “we have a great high priest… Jesus, the Son of God” (Hebrews 4:14), the Magi are already treating Him that way.

Myrrh is the most sobering of them all.

Myrrh was used for embalming and burial. John tells us that Nicodemus brings myrrh to prepare Jesus’ body after the crucifixion (John 19:39). It was also mixed into wine and offered to dull pain during execution (Mark 15:23).

This gift points forward. Straight to the cross.

Isaiah said it before the exile: “He was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities” (Isaiah 53:5).

The Magi’s gift of myrrh declares something unmistakable: this King did not come merely to rule. He came to suffer. He came to die.

Gold declares He is King. Frankincense declares He is our Great High Priest who intercedes on out behalf. Myrrh declares He is Savior.

And together, these gifts preach the gospel.

Royal gifts. Worshipful gifts. Gentile hands honoring a Jewish King.

Matthew is making this unmistakably clear:

From the genealogy… to the birth… to the Magi…

Jesus is not just the Savior of Israel. He is the Savior of the world.

The weary world didn’t even know what it was waiting for. But God did. And at just the right time, He sent His Son.

now the question is no longer who is Jesus? The question is what will you do with Him?

Because every person in Matthew’s genealogy had a moment of response. Some trusted. Some resisted. Some obeyed. Some rebelled. And today, that same moment is in front of you.

For some of you, the invitation is simple but weighty: surrender.

You’ve admired Jesus from a distance. You’ve known the story. But you’ve never bowed the knee.

The Magi didn’t just observe the child—they fell down and worshiped Him. And today, Jesus is not asking for your curiosity. He’s calling for your allegiance. If you’ve never trusted Him as Savior and King, there is no better day than today.

For others in the room, its not about invitation, its about consecration.

You belong to Jesus, but if you are honest, you have been holding something back. It has shown up as partial obedience, delayed obedience, or a kind of comfortable Christianity that avoids costly faith.

And I think if we are being honest, a lot of us could identify with that. How can I say that? Because the ministry sign-up list has been sitting on the glass wall in the foyer for weeks now—and it’s still mostly empty.

Now let me say this carefully, because I know what some of us are thinking. This is not about guilt. This is not about pressure. And this is not about filling slots so the church can look busy. This is about obedience and ownership.

If Jesus really is our King—if He really has saved us, called us, and placed us in this body—then serving isn’t something we do if it fits our schedule. It’s something we do because we belong to Him and to one another.

And I know the push-back. “I’m busy.” So is everyone else. “I don’t feel ready.” None of us ever are. “I don’t know where I fit.” That’s why we’re asking you to take a step, not solve it all at once.

An empty list doesn’t mean people don’t love Jesus. But it can reveal that comfort has slowly replaced commitment, and convenience has started to crowd out obedience.

Here’s the truth: the church is not a building you attend—it’s a body you belong to. And bodies only function when every part shows up and does its work.

So this isn’t a rebuke. It’s an invitation. An invitation to move from spectators to servants. From consuming to contributing. From sitting on the sidelines to stepping into what God is doing here.

And if this is your church—then this is your ministry.

There is no better day than today to take that step.

And the same Savior who stepped into history is now calling you to step forward in faith.

For some, that next step is baptism. The plan right now is to celebrate the ordinance of Baptism on December 24th. For others, it is committing to the life of the church through membership. For some, it is repentance—turning away from sin you have tolerated for too long. For others, it is reconciliation, obedience, and faithfulness in the ordinary, unseen places of life.

Whatever that next step is, do not put it off.

Delay has never made obedience easier.

God has kept His promises across generations so that you could sit here today and respond in this moment. And I want you to hear this clearly: God is not asking you to clean yourself up before you come to Him. He is inviting you to come to Him so that He can change you.

So as we enter this time of invitation, let me ask you plainly:

Will you surrender fully to Jesus? Will you trust the Savior God has sent? Will you take the next step of obedience He is calling you to take?

If thats you this morning, while we sing one more song, just come forward. Grab a friend, grab a loved up, grab the peoples up fronts attention and we will come to you. Whatever it takes.

There is no better day than today. The Savior has come. The invitation is open.

Let’s pray and Let’s respond.