Matthew 2:13-23 | Held Fast Hold Fast

Most of us assume that when God is really at work, life will start to feel safer. Clearer. More settled. Gifts neatly placed under the Christmas tree, begging to be unwrapped with joy… We expect God’s will to come with peace, explanations, and a sense that everything is finally lining up.

But the passage we are considering this morning in Matthew 2 confronts that assumption.

Before Jesus ever preaches a sermon, before He ever heals the sick or raises the dead, His life is marked by danger, fear, exile, and loss.

God’s saving plan advances, but it does not feel gentle or safe.

Recently, I read an article that seeks to summarize our family of churches in just four words from the infamous preacher Charles Spurgeon. Spurgeon described his Pastors College with the phrase: “I hold, and I am held.”

He explained it this way: “We hold forth the Cross of Christ with a bold hand… because that Cross holds us fast by its attractive power.”

That phrase captures something essential about the Christian life. There is a real call to hold fast to Christ, to obey Him, to trust Him, to follow where He leads. But beneath and before all of that is a deeper reality. We are held fast by God Himself.

That truth matters deeply when God’s plan feels heavy, dangerous, or even mundane.

Here in Matthew 2, we encounter a moment when holding fast looks like fleeing in the night and becoming refugees in the face of fierce opposition and devastation. And yet, through it all, nothing slips. Nothing unravels. God’s plan is held fast. God’s people are still held fast.

This morning, we are going to consider three aspects of God’s perfect plans that we wouldn’t expect or likely request, and how that ought to shape how we hold fast and rest knowing that we are held fast by our loving, redeeming God. Before we do, though,

Let’s pray:

Textual Context:

We saw last year in Matthew 2:1–12 Wise men from the east traveled far to worship Jesus, rejoicing, and offering costly gifts, showing that God’s generosity awakens worship and joyful sacrifice in unlikely people. Herod and Jerusalem, by contrast, are troubled and resistant, revealing both open hostility and passive indifference toward God’s King, a pattern that echoes Pharaoh in Exodus and the serpent’s opposition from the beginning. Over it all stands the Triune God, sovereignly directing events, frustrating evil plans, fulfilling Scripture, providing for Joseph and Mary through the gifts of the Magi, and advancing his global purpose to save the nations. God is doing far more than anyone can see, faithfully and generously working through hardship, danger, and displacement to accomplish salvation. With that framework in mind, verses 13–23 will show this same sovereign generosity at work as God protects his Son, frustrates Herod’s rage, and advances the greater Exodus through suffering, flight, and fulfillment of prophecy.

Matthew 2:12-23 12 And being warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed to their own country by another way.

13 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.” 14 And he rose and took the child and his mother by night and departed to Egypt 15 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.”

16 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. 17 Then was fulfilled what was spoken by the prophet Jeremiah:

18  “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.”

19 But when Herod died, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt, 20 saying, “Rise, take the child and his mother and go to the land of Israel, for those who sought the child’s life are dead.” 21 And he rose and took the child and his mother and went to the land of Israel. 22 But when he heard that Archelaus was reigning over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there, and being warned in a dream he withdrew to the district of Galilee. 23 And he went and lived in a city called Nazareth, so that what was spoken by the prophets might be fulfilled, that he would be called a Nazarene.

Intro into Points:

God’s perfect will often unfolds in ways that feel anything but perfect or comfortable

(Matthew 2:13–15)

The first thing that should strike us in this passage is how quickly things turn. We assume that once Jesus is born, everything will finally fall into place. Instead, almost immediately, danger escalates and everything changes.

A dream comes in the night. Joseph is told to take the child and His mother and flee. No explanation. No timeline. Just urgency. Darkness surrounds the preservation of Jesus. Obedience happens immediately, by night, without recorded hesitation.

Which raises a natural question: If this is God’s plan, why do Jesus’ enemies even get a say? Why are they left on the scene at all?

What Matthew shows us is that God often advances His saving plan in, through, and in spite of opposition.

For Joseph and his family, that meant real loss. Loss of sleep. Loss of tomorrow’s plans, provision, and safety. Loss of a stable living situation. Loss of obscurity to the enemy. Egypt was not comfortable. Exile was not convenient. Refugee life was not part of the plan Joseph would have written.

And yet Matthew tells us that this happened so that Scripture might be fulfilled: “Out of Egypt I called my son.” This is not random escape. God is placing Jesus’ life inside Israel’s deepest redemptive memory. Jesus is being revealed as the true Son, the obedient Israel where Israel failed.

Still, when we hear this, a fear might or maybe should rise in our own hearts: If following God costs that much, I don’t know if I want to proceed.

Yet even in this disruption, God shows His care. He issues insider knowledge at exactly the right time, guiding Joseph away from danger and preserving His purposes. God does not remove the threat—but He is not absent from the moment.

Following God does not mean life will be easy, comfortable, or safe. It means trusting and treasuring Jesus so deeply that where He leads becomes where we want to be.

This is what it looks like when God is advancing His saving plan.

Next, we see that

God’s perfect will often unfolds in ways that feel anything but safe

(Matthew 2:16–18)

There have been many times in my life where I have been put in harms way as I trusted the Lord‘s leading. As compassion directed my path. And there are many here who can testify to even greater danger than I have ever experienced.

Matthew highlights for us that Jesus’ story was darker than just inconvenient disruption. What begins with a family on the run becomes a town in mourning.

The dominant weight of these verses is devastation, injustice, and fear. Herod responds not with restraint, but with violence—ordering the slaughter of innocent children based on suspicion and jealous rage. Children who committed no crime. Slaughtered. Families who never saw this coming. Grieving the murder of their children.

Matthew does not explain this away. He does not defend God. He does not soften the moment.

By quoting Jeremiah, Matthew places present suffering inside God’s redemptive story, where lament is real, fulfillment is messy, and sorrow is not removed by promise.

Many here have suffered loss. Many here have seen and suffered injustice.

God’s Word makes room for grief. Fulfillment does not cancel tears. God does not rush past pain to get to resolution.

And in moments like this, we are tempted to believe that God must be absent, apathetic, angry, or just simply not good.

Yet even here, God has not abandoned His people. His prior promises are still being fulfilled. Joseph’s warning dream proved true. God knows exactly what is happening, and He is ensuring that His purposes stand despite fierce opposition.

We don’t know why this tragedy was allowed to occur. But what we do know is that God is on his throne, that he is good, that sins effects are real, and until we see glory, those effects are going to felt.

This passage invites all of us to stop assuming that obedience to God means avoiding hardship, suppressing our grief, or seeing injustice immediately removed. But rather seeing obedience to God as trusting and treasuring Christ even in the face of opposition. And knowing that trusting and treasuring, Christ invites opposition into our life.

Brothers and sisters, if we do not experience satanic opposition, that simply means we are not a threat.

Sleepy Christian, let me shout in thine ears: thou are sleeping while souls are being lost, sleeping while men are being damned, sleeping while hell is being peopled, sleeping while Christ is being dishonored, sleeping while the devil is grinning at thy sleepy face, sleeping while demons are dancing round thy slumbering carcass, and telling it in hell that a Christian is asleep. You will never catch the devil asleep; let not the devil catch you asleep. Watch, and be sober, that ye may be always up to do your duty.

Charles Spurgeon

Leonard Ravenhill apparently spoke of his ambition of being on Satan’s most wanted list.

This is what it looks like when God is advancing His saving plan. And that’s exactly what we see surrounding the birth of Jesus.

We also see that,

God’s perfect will often unfolds in ways that feel anything but predictable or flashy

(Matthew 2:19–23)

After the recorded devastation, Matthew turns our attention to a shift in Herod’s power. He is gone. I think we are supposed to see something important here: namely, that evil’s reach is real, but it is not permanent. Evil may put up a fight, but it will never have the last word.

With Herod gone, it becomes clear who has been governing the story all along.

God advances His plan by giving Joseph additional instructions. He’s still speaking. Still guiding. His direction is always on time and tailored to what He is doing. Yet even now, the story does not resolve the way we might expect.

Instead of returning home, Joseph and Mary have to relocate their family to Nazareth, an obscure, overlooked village. Not Jerusalem. Not a throne. Not a spotlight.

Quiet. Ordinary. Unimpressive.

By placing Jesus in Nazareth, God shows that He often works through unexpected and unimpressive means.

We often expect God’s work to look like fireworks—loud, predictable and impressive.

Instead, salvation advances quietly, patiently, and without spectacle.

This passage helps us see that Jesus is not the kind of Savior who is trying to impress. He is the kind of Savior who has come to show compassion on the weak by becoming weak himself. There is coming a time when there will be fireworks. But for now, He does not need recognition, power, or acclaim to secure redemption.

This is what it looks like when God is advancing His saving plan.

As we take all of this in, the question that remains is not theoretical. It is deeply personal.

Do we trust God when His will is inconvenient, scary, or not as exciting as we thought it would be?

It’s one thing to trust God when we think that he’s going to make everything easier. It’s one thing to think that if we trust and treasure God that we will get what we want, that people will like us. That are bank accounts will be full that we won’t have to worry about health problems.

It’s quite another to trust God when we are facing fierce opposition, major setbacks in a less than an exciting path ahead.

And yet, so much of the Christian life is about crying out to the Lord when no one is watching. Having unimpressive conversations with the people that God has surrounded us with. Being faithful at the responsibilities working as unto the Lord all the way down to daily chores and paying bills. Even faithfully attending church gatherings that don’t end in a bang someone getting saved or baptized, someone being miraculously healed, someone receiving a word of knowledge that is undeniably from the Lord. All these things are glorious, but obedience that trusts and treasures Christ can often look extremely ordinary.

What we are reminded of today in Matthew is that the Creator of the universe is not distant but deeply involved—good, all-wise, and pleased to display His glory and power through human weakness.

The same God who worked through Joseph’s ordinary obedience, who entered into human history as a vulnerable child born to a poor family, who grew up in obscurity, is the same God who now calls us to walk with Him in the ordinary paths of faith.

Because this is who God is, we are invited to trust Him with everything and treasure Him above all.

So where does all of this leave us?

Matthew does not end this chapter with comfort, resolution, or applause.

He ends it with a child in Nazareth.

Hidden.

Unimpressive.

Held.

And that is exactly where the gospel meets us.

Because the baby who fled to Egypt did not stay a child.

The One who escaped Herod did not escape suffering forever.

The Son who was spared that night would one day walk straight toward danger.

Jesus did not come merely to survive evil.

He came to defeat it.

The gospel is not that God kept Jesus from pain.

The gospel is that God gave Jesus to pain.

This same Jesus who was held fast in Joseph’s arms would one day be nailed to a Roman cross.

Not because God lost control.

Not because evil finally won.

But because this was the plan.

The danger Jesus escaped in Matthew 2 was postponed so He could later face a greater enemy.

Not Herod.

Not Rome.

But sin.

Death.

The wrath of God against rebels like us.

On the cross, Jesus was not warned in a dream.

He was not rescued in the night.

There was no flight to Egypt.

The Father did not spare Him.

Why?

So that sinners could be spared forever.

At the cross, Jesus entered the exile we deserved.

He absorbed the judgment our sin earned.

He stood in the place of grieving mothers, guilty fathers, fearful disciples, wandering refugees, and spiritually dead rebels.

And three days later, He rose.

That resurrection declares that God’s plan never slipped.

Never stalled.

Never failed.

Church, this is why we can trust God when His will feels dangerous, disruptive, or dull.

Because the same God who planned the flight to Egypt planned the empty tomb.

And if He was faithful there, He will be faithful here.

For the believer in the room who feels weary, scared, or overlooked, hear this clearly:

You are not holding your life together.

You are being held.

Held by nail-scarred hands.

Held by a risen Savior.

Held by a Father who never loses track of His children.

Your obedience may feel ordinary.

Your faithfulness may feel unseen.

But the gospel assures you that nothing done in Christ is wasted.

And if you are here this morning and you are not a Christian, this passage presses a question on you that cannot be avoided. Herod heard about Jesus and tried to destroy Him.

Jerusalem heard about Jesus and was troubled but unmoved.

The Magi heard about Jesus and worshiped.

There is no neutral response to this King.

This same Jesus who came in humility will return in glory.

The One who once fled violence will come again in judgment.

And on that day, it will matter deeply whether you trusted Him or resisted Him.

The gospel invitation is clear and kind.

Turn from your sin.

Lay down your rebellion.

Stop trying to save yourself.

Come to Christ.

He will not cast you out.

He will not crush you.

He will forgive you, cleanse you, and hold you fast.

This morning, Matthew 2 reminds us that God’s saving plan moves forward through danger, suffering, obscurity, and pain.

But the cross and resurrection tell us why.

So that sinners could be saved.

So that sufferers could have hope.

So that the lost could be found.

So that those who trust Christ could say with confidence:

I hold fast to Him. Because He has already held fast to me.