Editor’s Note: This is a republication of Phil Metzger’s October 31, 2019 article.

“And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these” (Mark 12:30-31).

IT’S HALLOWEEN!

On this day, kids will be hurrying home from school, dressing up and heading out to get candy from their neighbors. I grew up doing this, and I loved it every year.

When I got saved, I became aware of some of the other elements of Halloween — its history and some of the pagan practices. I realized that many Christians have strong views against this holiday and what it represents for some. This is my feeble attempt at helping us see this from a different perspective.

Try and see this holiday for what it is today: The one day of the year when many of the families in your neighborhood take their little ones and come up to your door.

It’s the one day of the year when it’s not creepy to slowly meander through your neighborhood while your kids beg for candy from everyone. It’s community.

TRY AND SEE THIS FROM A MISSIONAL PERSPECTIVE.

It’s an opportunity to engage in our community rather than oppose it.

You do not have to compromise the gospel to be kind and friendly on Halloween. And compromise is what this is all about isn’t it? It’s the concern that, by celebrating Halloween, we are promoting evil and paganism.

Consider this: Instead of becoming overly agitated with the fringe elements of Halloween, let’s see it for what it is today for the large majority of people — a day for communities to come together and show some love to our kids (and give away candy, lots of candy!)

CONSIDER HALLOWEEN FROM SOLOMON AND JESUS’ PERSPECTIVE.

“Go, eat your bread with joy, And drink your wine with a merry heart; for God has already accepted your works. Let your garments always be white, and let your head lack no oil” (Ecclesiastes 9:7-8).

“Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you. And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:19-20 NLT).

In Ecclesiastes, Solomon encourages his readers to consider this one fact: We’re all going to die. This will either depress you or motivate you to listen to God’s wisdom on how to live. If death is a reality, then what’s this life all about?

And Solomon exhorts us to GO. It’s a command. Get off the couch, eat, drink and put on a nice outfit, maybe even some cologne! Why? Because God wants you to live while we’re here on earth.

In Matthew, Jesus also commands us to GO. Go and make disciples of all nations. Go live out your faith in this world.

In both passages, we see the Trinity at work in our lives. I believe it’s symbolized in Ecclesiastes and made plain in Matthew.

The symbols are these:

Bread/wine = symbols of Jesus’ body and blood
Oil = symbol of the Holy Spirit

Solomon says partake of the bread and the wine and put on the Holy Spirit for God approves of this. Jesus says partake of My death and resurrection and be filled with the Holy Spirit. And as I am transforming you, GO make disciples of all nations.

This Halloween, GO — eat and drink, put on some cologne (and maybe a fun costume) and make disciples of all nations by living out the life of God in you.

Editor’s Note: This year, Yom Kippur begins at sunset on Friday, October 11th, and ends at nightfall on Saturday, October 12th.

The Day of Atonement, or Yom Kippur, is the most solemn day in Israel’s religious calendar, a time for comprehensive purification and renewal of the covenantal relationship between God and the people. This annual observance, described in Leviticus 16, provided a way for Israel to address the accumulated sins and impurities that threatened their standing before a holy God. Central to this ritual is the high priest, who alone enters the Holy of Holies to make atonement for himself, his household, and all of Israel.

On this sacred day, the high priest first bathes, clothes himself in linen garments, then offers a bull as a sin offering for his own sins, ensuring he is cleansed before entering the holy presence of God. Afterward, the two goats described in Leviticus 16 are presented to the people. The first goat, chosen by lot, is sacrificed as a sin offering for the people. Its blood is sprinkled on the mercy seat in the Holy of Holies, purifying the sanctuary itself from the defilement caused by the people’s sins throughout the year. This act symbolizes the cleansing of both the people and the holy space, allowing God’s presence to remain among them.

The second goat, known as the scapegoat, is defined as the Azazel. The Hebrew word Azazel is only used in the 16th chapter of Leviticus. It is a mysterious word that can mean “off a cliff,” “desert place,” or even “demon.” After the high priest lays his hands on this goat and confesses all the sins of Israel, essentially transferring the guilt of the people onto the Azazel, the goat is then sent into the wilderness, bearing the people’s sins. There was a visible presentation of the complete removal of sin from the people of Israel, demonstrating that sin is not only atoned for through blood but also taken away, never to return. The use of the two goats highlights the dual nature of atonement: the need for both expiation (the cleansing of sin) and propitiation (the substitution of the animal’s life in exchange for the forgiveness and new life granted by God, as explained in Leviticus 17:11 through the significance of blood).

In this way, the Day of Atonement emphasizes the seriousness of sin and the holiness of God. It is a day of fasting, self-denial, and repentance, where the people reflect on their need for God’s forgiveness. This observance was performed once every year — to recognize the need for sacrificial atonement to cover the sins of the people and restore fellowship with God.

Hebrews 9 draws a direct connection between the Day of Atonement and the ultimate atonement made by Jesus Christ. In the Old Testament, the high priest had to enter the earthly sanctuary every year with the blood of animals, but these sacrifices could never fully remove sin. They served as a temporary covering, pointing forward to something greater. In contrast, Christ, as the true High Priest, entered not an earthly sanctuary but the heavenly Holy of Holies. He did not offer the blood of goats and bulls but His own blood, securing eternal redemption (Hebrews 9:12). Jesus, through His death and resurrection, became sin, so that we can become the righteousness of God (2 Cor 5:21) — Jesus fulfills the entire purpose of Yom Kippur. Like the first goat, His sacrifice cleanses from sin. Like the Azazel scapegoat, He took away our sins completely, offering perfect and final atonement for all humanity. Thus, the ritual of the Day of Atonement foreshadows the complete and eternal work of Jesus Christ, who removes sin once and for all.

Editor’s Note: This year, Pentecost falls on May 19th, which is seven weeks after Easter Sunday.

What does it mean to be Spirit-filled? There are so many variations and mental pictures in books or sermons that it needs to be clarified. I’ve known of the Jedi model, someone so in tuned with the Spirit that they float from place to place as the Spirit gives utterance, ready to cast down any spiritual attack with the lightsaber of prayer. Holding a job with this model or consistently leading a local church is hard. What about the holiness version? The Spirit-led believer who’s always angry at sin is wholly cut off from the world around them lest they find themselves contaminated or, worse yet, calling into question their faith because they saw a TikTok that provoked doubt. I don’t think an article on a blog will give the definitive answer, but I believe we have an example in a holiday coming up that may provide us with some fuel for thinking through the question. Let’s look at Pentecost.

Pentecost Celebrated

As we remember in Leviticus 23, Pentecost is one of the Feasts of the Lord; the Hebrew name “Shavuot” means weeks, for the weeks counted, or for the fifty days until the feast of Pentecost. In contemporary Judaism, it’s celebrated by commemorating the reception of the Law on Mount Sinai. In synagogues, they read the Ten Commandments. Some also read Ruth. It’s common for more traditional families to stay up the first night, read the Torah, and pray the Tsikor, the prayers of remembrance for the disappeared.

Pentecost Sunday is not widely celebrated in Calvary Chapels, though we remember it as the Church’s birth and the Kingdom’s growth on earth. It’s a day that means a great deal to us, and like most continuationists,^[1] we like to believe that we celebrate Pentecost every day, especially on Sundays or in afterglows. For those of us who give time to wait on the Lord to allow the gifts to be practiced biblically, that’s the way we like to celebrate Pentecost. How many of us have experienced prophetic prayer and received healing, vision, a word, or comfort as the believers gathered to wait on the Lord? It’s one of our distinctives as a Church movement that I enjoy most, and I find myself in deep need of this.

Peter Proclaims Jesus the Messiah in Jerusalem

I want to pull out another aspect of Pentecost because it’s also vitally important. When Peter spoke up and preached in Jerusalem in Acts 2, he proclaimed Jesus the Messiah, Jesus the Lord. The way he makes his point at the end of his proclamation shows that the signs they were exhibiting confirmed this point. I like the way Darrell Bock puts it:

“Peter’s point is not that Jesus will have this throne one day sometime far in the future. In other words, the point is not that Jesus is merely appointed for the Davidic role now and qualifies for it through his resurrection and then will exercise this authority in the future, in the same way the anointing of David long preceded his actual functioning as king. Rather, Peter’s point is that the exercise of messianic authority is on display now in the Spirit’s present distribution.”^[2]

The speaking in tongues, the Holy Spirit-inspired sermon shouted in Jerusalem’s streets, heralded the Good News’s announcement. Jesus is the Resurrected Lord (Acts 2:24), anointed King in the line of David, sitting at the righthand of the Father, pouring out the Holy Spirit (Acts 2:32-36), and beginning His reign through His people (Acts 2:38-39). It’s not just a future reign (Acts 1:8). It’s the Promise of the Father (Luke 24:44-48).

The link between the Kingdom language in Peter’s Gospel presentation and the Gifts of the Spirit on display is often overlooked. One or the other seems emphasized, even when a teacher goes verse by verse. This usually follows the application the pastor wishes to make. We can all agree that given the enormity of the passage and all it has said to the Church for the past 2000 years, it still speaks today, and I doubt we’ve mined every lesson possible out of the text. We may have to wait to hear it from Peter himself, but thankfully, the Holy Spirit speaks through biblical scholars, pastors, teachers, and Christians everywhere.

In verses 14-21, Peter explains the speaking in tongues by referencing the prophet Joel’s apocalyptic vision of the pouring out of the Holy Spirit on all people in the last times. Peter quotes the passage all the way up to, “And it shall be that everyone who calls upon the name of the Lord will be saved.” In writing Acts, Luke is quoting the Greek translation (LXX) to his Greek-speaking readership; if we take it back to the Hebrew text, which says pretty much the same thing, it should be noted that the term for Lord is YHWH. This becomes all the more powerful in verse 36 as Peter concludes God has made Jesus, Lord and Christ (Messiah). His whole message leads to this point.

Another fun fact in the story, going back to Joel and reading it forward into the text in Acts, is found by reviewing the part of the verse Peter didn’t quote: Joel 2:32b “For in Mount Zion and Jerusalem there shall be those who escape, as the LORD has said, and among the survivors shall be those whom the LORD calls.” The word for “survivors” in Hebrew (śᵉrı̂ḏim) was translated in the LXX into a different word—to evangelize (euaggelizomenoi). This is another example of how this passage is massively profound, needing careful exegesis and thoughtful commenting.

Following the Spirit, Obeying the King

What if we were to say that Pentecost isn’t just the day the Church explodes on the scene of history in flaming power and with signs from the Holy Spirit but that it’s also a clear proclamation of the Lordship and Messiahship of Jesus, which was confirmed by these signs? What does this mean for us continuationists? It means that following the Spirit is to live under the reign of the Lord. It doesn’t mean to follow some vague inclining in a person’s heart. It can’t mean to follow one’s desires. It means obedience to One King.

I believe this is especially important if we consider some of the things we’ve been told growing up, messages we’ve been given through movies, messages that go back to writers that philosophers inspired with radically different worldviews than our own. Messages like follow your heart, be authentic, and trust your instincts sound so close to what one might imagine as living a Spirit-filled existence that the lines of communication can become confused. This can lead to acts of obstination, quarreling for evangelism, and the types of disorders in life and the Church described in 1 Corinthians. The reality is if we are filled with a spirit that leads us into behavior that isn’t reflective of the Gospel, we aren’t fully obeying our King. Perhaps in part, but not in heart.

However, if we live under our King’s reign, we’ll allow His Spirit to lead us. This may not begin with the big questions of where to go or what to do before it redirects our worship like tongues of fire and sweet, profound times of prayer in His presence. It’ll most likely lead us to examine our motivations and hopefully reveal points in our lives where we’ve been led more by unbelief than vibrant trust. It’s a wild ride, to say the least! But I wonder how it would affect our witness in this world if, having begun in the Spirit, we continue and advance in Him as He gives us strength.

Footnotes

^[1] The belief that the gifts of the Spirit are for today.
^[2] Darrell L. Bock, Acts (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament) (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Publishing Group, 2007), Kindle Edition.

Editor’s Note: To hear more from Thomas on this subject, click here for “Messiah in the Passover,” from his Theology and Apologetics Podcast.
https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/theology-and-apologetics-podcast/id1275721027?i=1000557698279

חג פסח שמח
Hag Pesach Sameach
Happy Passover

As the Passover season approaches, Jewish households worldwide are preparing to celebrate with the traditional Passover Seder. This ancient ritual serves as a poignant reminder of God’s redemption of the Israelites from slavery in Egypt. But beyond its historical significance, Passover holds deep theological meaning for believers in Messiah.

The Passover Seder, a ceremonial meal, is centered around retelling the Exodus story in an interactive manner. It’s not just a recounting of events but an immersive experience meant to engage participants in the narrative of liberation. For believers, Passover transcends mere tradition; it serves as a vivid illustration of the gospel message and the ultimate redemption offered through Yeshua (Jesus).

Kindling the Light

A Seder will typically begin with the woman of the house kindling the Passover candles and bringing light to the Passover table. For believers in Messiah this is significant, for it was a woman, Mary, who began the redemptive career of the Messiah by giving birth to the light of the world.

“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned’” Isaiah 9:2.

“Yeshua spoke to them again, saying, “I am the light of the world. The one who follows Me will no longer walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” John 8:12.

The First Passover

The Passover narrative, outlined in Exodus 12, recounts the ten plagues of Egypt, and culminates in the deliverance of the Israelites through the Red Sea. Central to this story is the requirement to sacrifice an unblemished lamb and apply its blood to the doorposts of their houses (Exodus 12:5-7). The blood is said to serve as a sign (Exodus 12:13) which will cause the Lord to pass over that house sparing the Israelites from the final plague of death. This act of redemption serves as a foreshadowing of the greater redemption to come through Yeshua, the Lamb of God (John 1:29).

The parallels between Old Testament types and New Testament fulfillment are striking, underscoring the continuity of God’s redemptive plan throughout history that’s revealed to us in the Word of God. The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Colossians, emphasizes the Christological significance of these rituals, asserting that they not only serve to commemorate a historical event, but they also foreshadow the substance which is to be found in Christ:

“Therefore no one is to act as your judge in regard to food or drink or in respect to a festival or a new moon or a Sabbath day—things which are a mere shadow of what is to come; but the substance belongs to Christ” Colossians 2:16-17.

These Passover themes of slavery and redemption are continued throughout the Bible. Therefore, being in Egypt is described as being in the house of slavery (Exodus 20:2), and in the New Testament an unbeliever is described as being in slavery to sin (Romans 6:20). When God described the events of the Exodus from Egypt, He says that they’ve been redeemed from Egypt (Deuteronomy 7:8). Similarly, when salvation is spoken of in the New Testament, it’s done with the same Passover language of redemption. The Apostle Peter writes:

“… knowing that you were not redeemed with perishable things like silver or gold from your futile way of life inherited from your forefathers, but with precious blood, as of a lamb unblemished and spotless, the blood of Christ” 1 Peter 1:18-19.

It’s hard to miss the Passover parallels laid out in these verses. Just as the Israelites were redeemed from slavery in Egypt through the blood of the Passover lamb, believers too are redeemed from sin and bondage through the precious blood of Jesus. Paul makes it even more explicit when he says, “Christ our Passover is sacrificed” (1 Corinthians 5:7).

The Four Cups

At the heart of the Passover Seder are the four cups, each representing a promise of deliverance drawn from Exodus 6:6-7.

^{6 “}Say, therefore, to the sons of Israel, ‘I am the Lord, and I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians, and I will deliver you from their bondage. I will also redeem you with an outstretched arm and with great judgments. ⁷ Then I will take you for My people, and I will be your God; and you shall know that I am the Lord your God, who brought you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians” Exodus 6:6-7.

The four cups with the corresponding promises are as follows:

• The Cup of sanctification – I will bring you out
• The Cup of Deliverance – I will deliver you
• The Cup of Redemption – I will redeem you
• The Cup of Restoration – I will take you

The third cup, known as the Cup of Redemption, holds particular importance as it symbolizes the blood of the Passover lamb that secured Israel’s redemption. This cup finds its ultimate fulfilment in Yeshua, who instituted the new covenant through His blood with this third cup which is taken after the meal at Passover.

“And in the same way He took the cup after they had eaten, saying, ‘This cup which is poured out for you is the new covenant in My blood’” Luke 22:20.

During the last supper, Jesus takes the third cup declaring it to be symbolic of the new covenant in His blood, thus establishing a powerful connection between the Passover and the Christian ceremony of communion. As believers partake in communion, they not only remember Yeshua’s sacrifice but also anticipate His return, proclaiming His death until He comes again (1 Corinthians 11:26).

The Passover serves as a profound reminder of God’s faithfulness throughout history and His enduring promise of redemption. It points believers to the ultimate Passover Lamb, Yeshua, whose sacrifice brings freedom from sin and eternal life.

As we contemplate the significance of Passover and communion, we anticipate that day in the age to come when we join with the redeemed of all ages in proclaiming:

“Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power and riches and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing” Revelation 5:12.

לשנה הבאה בירושלים
l’shana haba’ah b’yerushalayim
IN A COMING YEAR IN JERUSALEM

Thomas Fretwell, Founder
https://www.ezrafoundation.org/

“I am the resurrection and the life.”
—John 11:25

Jesus’ claim to be the resurrection and the life is so radical that it does not allow the hearer to hold a neutral position concerning Him. As C. S. Lewis said, there are only three possibilities with Jesus: He is a liar, a lunatic, or the Lord. Any serious consideration of His words will almost certainly force one to admit, like it or not, that He is Lord.

Jesus made this statement in response to the death of His friend, Lazarus. Death is that dreaded reality that every human being hopes to avoid but can never escape. Death is humanity’s perennial enemy and greatest fear. In fact, the Bible says that people live all their lives in bondage to the fear of death (Hebrews 2:15).

Actually, death was never a part of God’s original plan. It is something that came in because of sin. God had said to Adam, in the day that you eat of the fruit of the tree in the midst of the garden, you shall surely die (Genesis 2:17). Our ongoing inability to accept death as just another part of the human experience is to me a strong indicator that the biblical explanation of it is the right one—death is abnormal.

Think about it: no matter how young or old the person, no matter how sick or disabled, no matter how far removed from a person we might have been, there is a pang in our hearts when we hear of their passing. Millions were stricken with grief over the untimely death of pop star and cultural icon Michael Jackson, and, more recently, superstar athlete Kobe Bryant. Yet how many actually knew them personally? Why do people react so passionately to death? Because death is not right. It never was right. It never will be right. Nevertheless, it is.

The current death rate is staggering. Two people die every second, 120 every minute, more than 7,000 every hour, about 175,000 every day, 65,000,000 every year. “Death comes to young and old, rich and poor, good and bad, educated and ignorant, king and commoner. … The dynamic young businessman, the glamorous actress, the great athlete, the brilliant scientist, the television personality, the powerful politician—none can resist the moment when death will lay its hand upon them and bring all their fame and achievements to nothing. … Death is no respecter of time or place; it has neither season nor region. It can strike at any moment of the day or night, on land, on the sea or in the air. It comes to the hospital bed, the busy road, the comfortable armchair, the sports field and the office; there is not a single spot on the face of the planet where it is not able to strike.”^[1]

The philosopher Epicurus said, “It is possible to provide security against other ills, but as far as death is concerned, we live in a city without walls.”

Are there any solutions? Is man destined to go on endlessly being defeated by death? Jesus answered those questions when He stood face to face with death and said, “I am the resurrection and the life.”

Just a few days later, Jesus would meet death head on Himself in fulfillment of the prophecy: “I will ransom them from the power of the grave; I will redeem them from death. O Death, I will be your plagues! O Grave, I will be your destruction!” (Hosea 13:14).

His destruction of death would come through His resurrection. Paul the apostle would later write of Christ as the one who “abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel” (2 Timothy 1:10).

The word abolish means to put an end to. Some synonyms for abolish are: eradicate, rescind, repeal, obliterate, annihilate. Jesus Christ obliterated death! You might say, “Wait a minute. As you just stated, three people die every second. What do you mean Jesus Christ obliterated death?” There are two definitions of death—ours and God’s. Our definition of death is essentially the separation of the soul and spirit from the body. God’s definition of death is the separation of the soul and spirit from Him.

The Bible teaches that physical death is the result of spiritual death. Jesus obliterated spiritual death by bringing our soul and spirit back into conscious fellowship with God. But He also obliterated physical death by rising from the dead and becoming the first of a great multitude who will rise also. In the original order of things, spiritual death (which came through the sin of Adam) led ultimately to physical death. In the new order of things, spiritual life (which comes through faith in Jesus Christ) will lead ultimately to physical life without the possibility of death.

Again, the apostle Paul put it this way in 1 Corinthians 15, that great chapter on the resurrection:

“Behold, I tell you a mystery: We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed—in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. So when this corruptible has put on incorruption, and this mortal has put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: ‘Death is swallowed up in victory. O Death, where is your sting? O Hades, where is your victory?’”
—1 Corinthians 15:51–55

Taken from my book:
No Like or Equal
The Uniqueness of Jesus
Copyright © 2023 by Brian Brodersen

Reference

^[1] John Blanchard, Whatever Happened to Hell? (Welwyn Garden City, UK: Evangelical Press, 1993), 46.

The haunting melody of an old hymn echoes in my soul as Resurrection Sunday draws near, its words resonating deeply: “When I survey the wondrous cross on which the Prince of glory died, my richest gain I count but loss, and pour contempt on all my pride” (When I survey the wondrous cross, Isaac Watts, 1707).

Have you surveyed the wondrous cross? You will discover that in the vast tapestry of human existence, there exists a narrative unlike any other—a narrative that holds within its embrace the power to transform, unlock the depths of our being, and unveil the very heart of God Himself. This narrative is none other than the story of the cross of Christ.

From the ancient prophecies whispered through the ages to the revelations unveiled in the New Testament, the mystery of the cross weaves its intricate threads through the fabric of Scripture, illuminating profound truths about God’s redemptive plan for humanity. It is a mystery hidden in the mists of time, yet now revealed for all who have eyes to see and ears to hear.

The Unveiling of Hidden Treasures

In his letter to the Colossians, the apostle Paul unveils this ancient mystery, declaring to the Lord’s beloved, “the mystery that has been kept hidden for ages and generations but is now disclosed to the Lord’s people. To them, God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:26-27, NIV).

Paul uses the term “mystery” not to confound or mystify but rather to reveal a truth that was once veiled but now made manifest. John Stott, a luminary of the evangelical movement, sheds light on this, stating, “In English, a ‘mystery’ is something dark, obscure, secret, puzzling. What is ‘mysterious’ is inexplicable, even incomprehensible. However, the Greek word mysterion differs. Although still conveying a sense of ‘secrecy,’ it is no longer tightly guarded but rather open… Put simply, mysterion represents a truth previously concealed from human knowledge or understanding but now revealed by God’s disclosure.”

Here, Paul reveals that the mystery hidden for generations past is none other than Christ dwelling within believers, offering the hope of glory.

The Inclusion of All

In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul delves deeper into the mystery of Christ, emphasizing its universal scope. He writes, “This mystery is that through the gospel the Gentiles are heirs together with Israel, members together of one body, and sharers together in the promise in Christ Jesus” (Ephesians 3:6, NIV). Paul proclaims that the mystery of Christ encompasses the Gentiles as co-heirs with Israel, united as one body through faith in Jesus Christ. This revelation underscores the inclusivity of God’s redemptive plan, embracing all into the fold of salvation.

The Suffering Servant

Long before Paul penned his letters, the prophet Isaiah spoke of a suffering servant who would bear the sins of humanity and bring about peace and healing through his sacrificial death. Isaiah writes, “But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all” (Isaiah 53:5-6, NIV).

In Isaiah’s prophetic vision, we witness an astonishing glimpse across centuries, foreseeing the suffering of the Messiah who would be “beaten with many stripes” (Mark 15:15). Isaiah anticipated that it would be through these very wounds that our healing would be wrought. Drawing upon this profound truth, Peter draws attention to the voluntary nature of Jesus’ sacrifice. In embracing the burden of our sins upon the cross, Jesus opened the gateway for believers to break free from the enslavement of sin and to embrace a life of righteousness (1 Peter 2:24). Through Christ’s sacrificial act, we are not merely offered redemption but are empowered to live transformed lives, healed by the very wounds that once bore the weight of our transgressions.

Reflections on the Mystery of the Cross

As we reflect on the mystery of the cross, let us not merely marvel at its complexity or beauty but let us also embrace its transformative power in our lives. For in the cross of Christ, we find the convergence of divine love and human frailty, redemption and reconciliation, suffering and triumph.

May the mystery of the cross continue to captivate our hearts, inspire our faith, and lead us ever deeper into the immeasurable riches of God’s grace. And may we, like Paul and Isaiah before us, boldly proclaim this mystery to the world, that all may come to know the hope, healing, and salvation found only in the cross of Christ.

Editor’s Note: Dr. Hernandez’s article was previously published on March 13, 2017. This year (2024), Purim takes place from sundown March 23 to nightfall on March 24.

Imagine a holiday in which kids dress up, wander around the neighborhood in costumes, make joyous noise, and receive sweets from all over the place. No friends—I am not speaking of Halloween. Rather, I am referring to an actual biblical holiday that involves costumes, candy, and the reading of the scriptures.

“Purim” is the name of the biblical holiday celebrated worldwide by Jewish communities on the fourteenth or fifteenth of the Hebrew month of Adar—depending on whether one lives in a walled city (March 12-13 this year). Purim has been celebrated by masquerading for about the last 500 years—starting as a European tradition—despite the fact that masquerading is generally not looked upon favorably by Jewish people (cf. Deuteronomy 22:5). The reason for these festivities is simple:

Purim is a joyous day on which the Jewish people celebrate the rescue of their people group, as recorded in the biblical book of Esther.

One of the ways in which the preservation of the Jewish people is celebrated is by reading Megilat Esther (the Scroll of Esther). By reading the entirety of this biblical narrative in the synagogue or other public arena, the Jewish people are reminded of the deliverance of their ancestors from the hands of their enemies. Specifically, they are remembering their rescue from the plot of the tyrannical Persian despot, Haman. Indeed, every time Haman’s name is mentioned during the public reading of Esther, those in attendance boo and rattle noisemakers to demonstrate their displeasure with his memory (cf. Exodus 17:14). Accompanying the reading of the entire book of Esther, Jewish people celebrate with all types of festive activities, eating Oznai Haman (Yiddish: Hamentaschen), and singing typical Purim folk songs like this one:

שושנת יעקב
צהלה ושמחה
בראותם יחד
תכלת מרדכי

The people of Israel (Shoshanat Ya’akov)
Rejoiced and became overjoyed
When together they saw
Mordecai wearing royal blue

תשועתם
הייתה לנצח
ותקוותם
בכל דור ודור
ברוך מרדכי היהודי

Their salvation was from eternity
And their hope is from generation to generation
Blessed is Mordecai the Jew! Blessed is Mordecai the Jew!

In order to better understand the reason for the holiday Purim—even the word “Purim”—it is necessary to know a little bit of the history and setting of the book of Esther. The historical setting of the book of Esther goes back to about the late sixth century BC. This is when many Jewish people from the Jerusalem area were taken into exile by the Babylonians. The Babylonians were then conquered by the Persians, which brings us to the time period in which the book of Esther takes place.

The Story

The book of Esther commences by telling the story of King Ahasuerus of Persia—ruler of 127 provinces from the continent of Africa through east Asia. In the third year of his reign, this king has a grand feast in which the kingdom’s aristocrats are at the king’s palace in Susa—the capital of the Persian empire.

During this festival, King Ahasuerus calls his wife, Queen Vashti, to appear before him and his nobles in her royal crown. Vashti, for unstated reasons, refuses to come before the king, which absolutely enrages him (Esther 1:11-12). And so, based on the council of his friends, the king divorces Queen Vashti.

Upon divorcing Queen Vashti, the king misses her (Esther 1:21) and desires to marry again. The king’s servants then travel around the city gathering the most attractive maidens, so that the king might chose his next wife. This is when protagonists Mordecai and Esther appear. Mordecai is Esther’s older cousin and had raised her because she was an orphan. Esther, being remarkably beautiful, is taken into the king’s custody with other young women of the city (Esther 2:7-8).

In a noteworthy turn in the story—when Esther is taken into the custody of the king, she is explicitly commanded by her cousin Mordecai not to reveal her identity as a Jew (Esther 2:10, 20). This is an interesting point of foreshadowing for the reader. King Ahasuerus falls in love with and marries Esther, not knowing her full identity as a Jewish woman. The story could end here, except for the one question that lingers: Why would Mordecai tell Esther not to mention that she is a Jew?

The Situation

At this point in the story another character, Haman the Agagite, advances to a position somewhat akin to a prime minister role in the Persian kingdom. Upon this promotion, the king commands that all should bow down and pay homage to Haman. For reasons unexplained in the text, Mordecai not only refuses to bow down, but also reveals that he is a Jew (Esther 3:4)—doing the very thing that he commanded Esther not to do.

Those somewhat familiar with the 10 Commandments know that the second one explicitly states that you shall not make or bow down to idols. Mordecai may have admitted that he was a Jew and refused to bow down before the Persian leader because treating someone like God was where he had to draw the line. Perhaps there was a crisis of conscience (cf. Exodus 20:2–5a).

Nevertheless, Haman hates the fact that not all people will bow down to him and hates Mordecai—personally. Because of this, he develops a hatred for Mordecai’s people, whom Mordecai had implicated through admitting that he was a Jew. For Haman, it was not enough that everyone else in the kingdom bowed down to him, and it was not enough to kill only Mordecai. Haman determines to kill all of the Jewish people because of Mordecai’s rebellion (Esther 3:6). And so, Haman casts lots in order to determine the dreadful day in which all of the Jewish people would be put to death (Esther 3:7).

Many Bible readers are surprised to find that through all of these happenings, God is not mentioned. He is conspicuously absent. His name is not stated even once. At the time when the Jewish people needed God most, He is apparently nowhere to be found.

The Silence

How many times in our lives have we felt in need, desperate, physically/emotionally/spiritually destitute—and God is absolutely nowhere to be found? God seems absent. God is silent.

HERE IS A PRINCIPLE THAT WE LEARN THROUGH THE REST OF THE BOOK OF ESTHER: SOMETIMES, WHEN CIRCUMSTANCES LOOK DIRE, WHEN WE ARE GOING THROUGH DIFFICULT SITUATIONS AND GOD SEEMS TO BE ABSENT—GOD IS ACTUALLY RIGHT THERE, WORKING EVERYTHING TOGETHER FOR HIS GLORY.

Sometimes, when we have absolutely no assurance that God is concerned about a given situation, He is right there, completely involved in the situation, but not revealing the details of His work.

Here is the amazing thing that we must appreciate about the Esther narrative: God gives us, as readers, insight into a past occasion in which He is intricately involved in human affairs to carry out His purposes. It is this divine providence, that we start to see as God—without being named or officially credited with the actions—shaping the circumstances of the characters in order to accomplish His purposes.

For example, the following are specific circumstances in our story that are clearly divinely guided. In our story, it just so happened that:

Esther, out of all of the women, found favor in the eyes of the king.
Esther was a Jew.
Esther gained direct access to the king because of her position as Queen.
Esther and Mordecai were related.
Mordecai gained access to the Persian throne through Esther.

This last fact is key, because upon hearing the plans to slaughter the Jewish people, Mordecai dressed in clothes representing mourning and went to the entrance of the king’s gate. This permitted him to have access to his cousin, Queen Esther, who he convinces to help her own people—the Jews. Mordecai’s message to Esther serves as his plea for personal help and for the lives of all of his people:

“Do not think to yourself that in the king’s palace you will escape any more than all the other Jews. For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:13–14).

In his message, Mordecai urges Esther not to forget that she is a Jew. She too will feel the effects of Haman’s wicked plot to kill her people. But, Mordecai believes that Esther has been placed in a position of power and influence for the very purpose of helping her people through this time. Esther, in turn, communicates with the king, inviting him and Haman to a series of banquets. During the second of these banquets, Esther reveals to her husband that she is a Jew and that Haman’s wicked plot to kill the Jews would include her. This is dreadful revelation, not only to the king, but also to Haman, who pleads for his life—but to no avail. Haman is taken away and hung (Esther 7:7-10).

Nevertheless, the redemption of the Jewish people is still not complete. Using his ring, the king of Persia had sealed the edict to kill the Jews and therefore, the decree could not be overturned (Esther 8:8). This meant that another decree needed to be put into place to counteract the first (Esther 8:10-14). This new decree permitted the Jews to defend themselves against anyone who was still intent on causing them harm (in accordance with the king’s initial command). It also permitted the Jewish people to take force against their enemies over two days, which resulted in the killing upwards of 75,500 people across the Persian Empire (Esther 9:6, 12, 16).

By this, the annihilation of the Jewish people was avoided and their preservation in the Persian Empire was accomplished. Here is the irony—this salvation began on the very same day that Haman had planned for their destruction by the casting of lots (Purim). For the Jewish people, this was a cause for great celebration. And that is why the holiday of Purim was instituted.

Again, through all of this, God is not mentioned. God is apparently not present. God’s title is not stated even once. Salvation from their enemies comes for the Jewish people, and yet the pages of this book are silent as to who gets the credit. At the time when the Jewish people needed God the most, why is his name not even mentioned? Let us deal with this question for a second. The reality of our story is that, despite what some traditions might suggest concerning how honorable Esther and Mordecai are, some simple observations about them might help us to understand why God may not have been mentioned.

There seems to be no concern for the Jewish law by either of these two main characters.
Esther conceals her Jewish identity (lies by omission) when taken into the king’s court at the command of Mordecai. The implication of this is that Esther had to have violated the Torah (purity, Sabbath, food laws).
It is not until there is severe danger, and perhaps a threat from her uncle, that Esther reveals her true identity.
Esther marries a gentile king. Intermarriage with non-Jewish people is not explicitly forbidden, but we do not have any indication that the king has any intention of following the one true God of Israel.

Taking these observations into consideration, it does not seem like Esther or Mordecai are particularly concerned about following the Law that God gave the Jewish people. It does not seem like Esther or Mordecai are especially interested in inviting God into their narrative.

Despite the fact that God is not overtly present in the lives of these people, and does not plainly show up in the book, He still demonstrates His ability to control all circumstances and situations for His own glory. Why did God save the Jewish people while—quite frankly—not being invited into the story? A biblical principle that we must remember is the following: God does not save people because they are extraordinary in and of themselves. God saves people because He is a magnificent God demonstrating extraordinary love for humans, who by nature do not invite Him into their story (Romans 5:8).

This is what happened at the first Purim festival. God saved the Jewish people from their enemies—not because they were extraordinary in and of themselves. God saved them because He is an extraordinary, faithful God of integrity.

God’s Promise

You see, all the way back in the first book of the Bible, God promised a man named Abraham that all the nations of the earth would be blessed through him (Genesis 22:18). This indeed happened by God choosing Abraham’s son, Isaac, and Isaac’s son, Jacob—again, not because of anything they did, but for the purposes of God (Romans 9:6-13). As we continue to read through the Old Testament, we see that Jacob—who was renamed Israel—had 12 sons. Out of these 12 sons of Israel, his son, Judah—the name from which we get the title of the “Jewish” people—was chosen to bear the royal lineage (Genesis 49:8-10). King David came from the people of Judah, and Jesus the Messiah was a descendant of King David (Matthew 1:3-6, 16). Jesus came from the Jews, to the Jews (John 1:11-14). God was determined to carry out His promise of bringing blessing to all nations through the Jewish people by way of the person and the work of Jesus the Messiah.

One writer states it like this:

“Esther is part of a much larger story that runs all the way from Abraham to Christ and, through him, to the church. If Haman had succeeded, the Jewish people as a whole would have been destroyed, and the story of God’s saving work in and through Abraham’s descendants would have come to an end. There would have been no fulfillment in Christ, and therefore, no Gospel and no Christian church. Nothing less than that was at stake” (Barry G. Webb, ESV Study Bible, 961).

Our God is a God of integrity. He is a God who keeps His word. God’s integrity is not contingent upon human beings. Our God does not—cannot—let His word fail (Romans 9:6), and He is willing to work behind the scenes of humanity’s vain activity and inattentiveness to His work in order to carry out that which He has promised.

Purim and Christians

The book of Esther is part of our own heritage as Christians—not just because it is a small book tucked away in a part of our Bibles where books are difficult to find. Rather, it is because it is another part of the greater story of redemption, showing God’s love for humanity by bringing someone from the line of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Judah and David to save humankind from their problem of sin.

The fact that God is not mentioned at all in Esther seems to point out that it is during those times of silence—the times in which we do not overtly see God’s hand at work—that God is most active. Sometimes, God is simply in the act of preserving and saving our lives so that He might accomplish His purposes in and through us.

The preserving power of God is not limited to one people group that He used for His purposes. For Christians, Purim serves as an occasion in which we are reminded of God’s providence and sovereignty over all human lives and over our lives specifically. We are all the beneficiaries of God’s providence. As God guides all circumstances for His glory, we as humans are blessed to get a glimpse of what God does through people—including ourselves.

Editor’s Note: This article was previously published on March 17, 2019.

The rope was so tight around sixteen-year-old Patricius’ wrists that they’d bitten into the flesh. He no longer felt the sting of the saltwater from the wind-tossed waves splashing over the side of the boat headed back to the home of his Irish captors. They’d nabbed him during a raid on the west coast of Britain, where he lived with his Romano-British noble family.

Patrick recounts little of his six years as a slave except to say he was a swine-herd who regularly knew hunger, thirst, and isolation. The loneliness moved him to seek the God of his Christian parents. God answered.

At twenty-two, Patrick heard a voice telling him to fast in preparation for a return home. A short time later, the voice spoke again: “Behold! Your ship is prepared.” He struck out for the coast, 200 miles away. When he arrived and informed the captain he was supposed to board, the captain recognized him as a runaway and refused. Now fearful of being turned in, Patrick began to move away. He made it no further than the other end of the ship when one of the crew shouted at him to hurry up and board. They were short-handed and thought to use him as a novice seaman, paying his fare by the hard work of a lowly deckhand.

After a short foray in Northern France, Patrick finally made it back to his home in Britain.

Try as he might to settle down, he sensed God’s Spirit calling him to back to the land of his captivity. But he regarded himself as ill-prepared and sought theological training and ordination. Once obtained. He set sail for the Green Isle.

How Patrick evangelized Ireland is an important case study because it opens to us the minds of Christian missionaries during this period. It also helps us understand the troubling religious syncretism that infected the medieval Church.

The native religion of Ireland at that time was dominated by the Druids, who held near complete control over the Irish, a control enforced by abject terror. Human sacrifice was a regular practice. Patrick’s plan was to confront the Druids on their turf. He understood the only way to make headway among the Irish was by freeing them from their fear. To do that, he’d need to look to the power of God to trump any demonstrations of demonic power the Druids conjured up.

Patrick’s medieval biographers take this kernel of truth and spin elaborate yarns about his confrontations. Many of those stories are likely fictional, while a few are based on real events. The larger lesson for us to glean is Patrick’s method of evangelism.

The idea had grown among theologians of that time that pagan religions weren’t so much anti-Christian as pre-Christian.

Patrick, and those who followed after, looked for how to bring the truth of Christ to the lost by using whatever elements of their native faith they could, converting it to the truth of Christ.

Patrick in no way approved of paganism or considered it an acceptable variant of the Gospel. He believed there were supernatural beings behind the idols and ideals of paganism, demons who kept people in spiritual bondage. He believed miracles and magic did occur. After all, Pharaoh’s magicians used supernatural power. But—and here’s the key to Patrick’s methodology: The God of Moses was more powerful and used His power to bring good while demonic power served only to promote ruin.

So when Patrick arrived with the Gospel, the druids moved swiftly to kill him. They found it harder than they thought. None of their plots worked. It was as if a supernatural wall protected him. While trusting himself to the protection of God, he also took practical measures to gain allies among the Irish by building amiable relationships with them. These allies kept him informed of the various plots.

A turning point in Patrick’s mission came when an Irish chieftain named Laoghaire came to faith.

This chieftain had a group of powerful Druids who advised him but were unable to defeat Patrick in demonstrations of supernatural power. When a couple of those Druids fell ill, Laoghaire was convinced of the superiority of Patrick’s God and professed faith in Christ. As was common to that culture, with his conversion, the people of his clan also came to faith. Their alliance with other clans opened the doors for the Gospel.

This then was Patrick’s method of evangelism as he made his way across Ireland. He confronted the Druids head-on, showing the superiority of God’s power, breaking their monopoly on the minds of the Irish first, then going after their hearts with the Grace of God in the Gospel of Christ.

Another turning point was the conversion of some of the Druids themselves.

Patrick was driven to bring the Gospel to Ireland because it was considered the end of the world, and Jesus had said the Gospel would be preached to the ends of the Earth, then the end would come. Patrick thought he was hastening Christ’s return. In his writings, he repeatedly mentions he was in “the last days” and quotes Matthew 24:14. He wrote, “It has been fulfilled. Behold! We are witnesses to the fact that the Gospel has been preached out to beyond where anyone lives.”

Patrick was less concerned with planting churches as he was in making converts and was tireless in his journeys back and forth across the island. Following the pattern of the time, he considered the ascetic life of the monastery as the purest form of the faith and encouraged his converts to be monks and nuns. This led to the building of dozens of monasteries and nunneries in Ireland. The rural nature of the island also encourage this form of the Church. Without major urban centers, large churches overseen by bishops were rare.

So, Irish Christianity was centered on communal monastic life.

Patrick died of natural causes on March 17, 493. Today, he’s one of the most famous figures from the 5th century. Like so many others of the past who accomplished great things, we’d probably not even know of him were it not for the dynamic missions outreach that came from Ireland. Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland, was British. And the faith he transplanted across the Irish Sea eventually came back to Britain.

In his book How the Irish Saved Civilization, Thomas Cahill says of Patrick:

“The Irish gave Patrick more than a home—they gave him a role, a meaning to his life. For only this former slave had the right instincts to impart to the Irish a New Story, one that made new sense of all their old stories and brought them a peace they had never known before.”

This Article Was Originally Published On Jan 18, 2021

The year was 1989, and I was a freshman in high school. I was sitting at a lone desk in an empty hallway because, once again, my behavior had gotten me kicked out of class—but on purpose, actually. Because though I was attending one of the best prep schools in New Jersey and in all honors classes, occasionally, when the learning material couldn’t quite hold my attention, I’d goof around until I was asked to take my desk into the hallway. And what would I do once in the hallway? I’d eagerly pull out Strength To Love, by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Since middle school, Dr. King was always my favorite, reading away and even re-reading the heavier content until I got it. Dr. King was a pure scholar.

“My friends, we cannot win the respect of the White people of the South or elsewhere if we are willing to trade the future of our children for our personal safety or comfort. Moreover, we must learn that passively to accept an unjust system is to cooperate with that system, and thereby become a participant in its evil… Put up thy sword.” — Strength To Love, 1963

This book I always carried with me was actually an original paperback that had belonged to my father during his executive administrative position at Seton Hall University. He had emulated the steps of Dr. King and became a leader in the civil rights struggle in New Jersey, implementing scholarship programs and graduate programs for people of color, which are still active until this very day. But not before he first endured growing up in poverty in the Deep South of the 1950s. He attended segregated schooling throughout high school, where his hungry mind always had to wait until the white schools finished sucking the abridged life out of every textbook before his school could finally get them. Even after earning valedictorian at his school, his physics teacher gave him a failing grade on a perfect paper. When my dad asked why, the teacher told him, “I didn’t give you an ‘A’ on that paper because you said you wanted to be a nuclear physicist, and a colored person has no business being a nuclear physicist.”

On this day when Dr. King’s birthday is nationally honored (his actual birthday being January 15), what does he mean to me?

As far back as I can remember, and even before his birthday became a national holiday in 1986, an integral part of our northern urban culture was to ecstatically celebrate Dr. King’s birthday—even if it just meant turning up Stevie Wonder’s “Happy Birthday to Ya,” extra loud on Mom’s clock radio as we’d get ready for school that morning.

Also, as far back as I can remember, whenever Dr. King’s name was mentioned, the emphasis on the title “doctor” was always sacred, as to just say his name would seemingly usher in a hush of honor and dignity as everyone would seem to hold their heads a bit higher for a second. While others called him by his full name without the title, we remembered him as a man who overcame all obstacles to earn his Ph.D., a rarity for countless black folks in those times. He was beloved in our community: He was like everyone’s unofficial favorite grandfather, father, godfather, uncle or son. A man, who for the sake of fighting for the freedoms of the oppressed, didn’t fear violent fists, fire hoses, bone-bruising batons, handcuffs, prison cells, police dogs trained to go berserk whenever they saw brown skin, or even death itself.

I grew up in a home with a humanistic worldview, attending Catholic church only on the important holidays, so I had a vague familiarity with Jesus. But I remember reading Dr. King’s references to Jesus Christ, Christ’s Sermon on the Mount and Christ’s commandment to forgive and turn the other cheek, and then getting to observe how Dr. King actually lived it out. He was the first person to make Jesus’ life and teachings relevant and powerful to me. Long before I was anywhere close to believing the Gospel and giving my heart to Christ, Dr. King showed this once-young, curious “searching” teenager—growing up on the drug-dealing streets of inner-city New Jersey, while at the same time, going to a wealthy prep school where I had my own countless bouts with both blatant and covert forms of racism—that Jesus was real and that Jesus’ teachings were still relevant in modern times and for modern issues.

Fast forward now: I matriculated at the “Ivy League” halls of the University of Pennsylvania, and though I was a pre-med student, I began learning much more about the world around me.

As an African-American Studies minor, I studied other prominent black leaders who had ideologies quite different from those of Dr. King’s.

I attended various lectures and even sat at the feet of people like Bobby Seale, co-founder of the Black Panther Movement (along with Huey P. Newton). I read Malcolm X and others who critiqued Dr. King’s methods. But to me, Dr. King remained bulletproof from the blaze of any critic; his message of reconciliation was simple and powerful and grounded in the love taught by Christ.

Fast forward, yet again, to when I hadn’t read Dr. King in years, by this point, when I was my senior year at Penn and busy navigating and (seemingly barely) surviving my own personal Ecclesiastes, like the spiritually-wearied King Solomon—suddenly finding everything around me to feel like “vanity” and “chasing wind” when it came to finding “true fulfillment”—and thereby, leading me to discover the regenerating Gospel of Jesus Christ as the true summum bonum (i.e., “greatest good”) for all of mankind. Oh, “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found, t’was blind but now, I see.”

As I graduated from Penn and began devouring the Word of God and growing in a (heavy) Bible-teaching church community, I was learning to “rightly divide the word of God” and even hold up the teachings of others against the Word of God—just as Jesus instructs His followers to do (I Thessalonians 5:21; Psalm 138:2). And it was at this point that I learned the difference between good or “sound” theology, bad theology and even “slightly off” theology.

I began learning more about Gospel-centered ministry, and how when Jesus spoke of giving a (refreshing) cup of water to even a child in His name, that even that wouldn’t go unrewarded by Him—and how some are indeed giving the (refreshing) cup of cold water “in His name” (i.e., while sharing the soul-saving “Good News” message of Jesus Christ, while countless others—all in the name of “Christian ministry”—all too often end up compromising with a “Social Gospel,” which still gives the (refreshing) cup of cold water and meets the pressing need(s) at hand, only they neglect doing it “in His name,” as the final element of Jesus’ command.

Thus, as a Bible-lensed believer, I had to now look at Dr. King, my first “superhero,” my first scholar whom I read in empty “naughty” hallways, after getting kicked out of class, the man who greatly inspired my own (hero) father, the man who still made my mom get teary-eyed when she found a rare book by him to gift to me, the man who first made Jesus real to me… I had to look at him through the lenses of “rightly divided” Scripture. And having a close friend who worked directly with Dr. King’s children at the King Foundation in Atlanta, Georgia, I even got access to hundreds of pages of King’s never-released essays, including essays from his younger days attending a liberal seminary, where he even questioned the Word of God’s supreme, inerrant theology, while trying to amalgamate the biblical worldview with ancient Egyptian belief systems. Add to that the pressing questions you hear voiced here and there:

Was Dr. King a socialist or communist? Was he an adulterer? Did he fall victim to Jesus’ warnings concerning “the leaven of Herod,” falling into the trap of mingling humanistic political might with unadulterated Gospel hope? There was so much to think about, but I had to be reminded of one thing: Whenever we are confronted with uncertainties or unanswered questions surrounding a person, we tend to “throw the baby out with the bathwater.” At the heart of observing others, will always remain the ongoing struggle of reconciling the imperfections of the person, with the redeemable parts and lessons of the message and the overall work.

So what do we do with all of this, and as (rhetorically) stated in the title of Dr. King’s last book he wrote, Where Do We Go From Here? I have come to the conclusion that we owe Dr. King the same grace we’ve extended to King David, King Uzziah, Peter & the other disciples, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and his reported involvement in two assassination attempts on Hitler, C.S. Lewis and his non-biblical belief in Purgatory, and countless others. In fact, it is the very same grace we pray to God for concerning our own personal lives every day. The Bible clearly instructs us to “mark the steps of a righteous man (Psalm 37:37),” to call sin for what it is, and to learn from those around us (and those in history), which also included learning from their mistakes, lest we easily slip and fall in (any and all similar) places ourselves (I Corinthians 10:12). Yes, the Word of God is supreme and is to be our guide in all things, but in doing so, love will always remain the “most excellent way” in doing so.

Most of all, here is my biggest question concerning Dr. King: Will I see my hero in heaven?

You know, I’ve read so much written by Dr. King and about Dr. King, that it gets confusing as to where I have read what at times. However, what stands out the most of all that I’ve ever read was an obscure essay he once wrote about the night back when he was leading his first bus boycott for the desegregation of buses in Montgomery, Alabama, and in retaliation, someone shot up his house, leaving bullet holes in the very sanctuary where his wife and kids found refuge.

He proceeded to write of how he sat alone that night in his kitchen—already a husband, father, up-and-coming national civil rights leader, and even a Baptist minister—and shaken to his core by what had happened to his home, he asked himself if he had truly experienced a (spiritually) born again experience in making Jesus Christ his personal Lord and Savior. And not sure of his own answer to that question, but wanting to make sure he was truly “in Christ” and not just deceivingly a mere part of “Churchianity” and “religious culture,” this pioneering visionary, scholar, courageous commander and religious man who emulated Jesus Christ, actually lowered his head and invited the risen Christ into His heart as his personal Lord and Savior for the remission of sins.

I’ve heard many wonder if King Solomon will be in heaven simply because of his severe backsliding (which led him to worship in very demonic ways). But based on his conclusion in Ecclesiastes, I believe King Solomon is in glory.

And I cannot prove it (for who knows the heart but God (I Corinthians 4:5), I believe my hero Dr. King is in glory as well.

In closing, what should be our practical take away and application concerning the legacy of Dr. King?

In this racially-polarized day, when so many (even in the Church) refuse to have the necessary, ongoing, tough conversations concerning race, and when we must be ready to (lovingly) challenge others (and even challenge ourselves at times), let us remember how Dr. King seemed to never grow weary in “leaning into discomfort” for the love of others. In a day when the Church has grossly confused merely knowing with actually doing something with what you know, let us remember how Dr. King’s entire life was a living sermon on how talk is cheap. More so, in a day, when Christians sometimes can’t even garner enough Christian humility to apologize to their next-door neighbors for the slightest offenses, Dr. King made Jesus’ teachings on forgiveness and “turning the other cheek” look supernatural, to say the least.

In a day when Christians can’t even embrace a brother or sister who adheres to a different style of worship or denominational viewpoint, let us remember how Dr. King was able to embrace Malcolm X with love and honor—even after Malcolm X publicly criticized Dr. King and regularly alluded to Dr. King not being “strong enough.” Most of all, in a day when we struggle with sacrificing for anything we deem “too costly,” in Dr. King we see a man who sacrificed even unto death—even (seemingly) prophesying about his imminent death in a message delivered some 24 hours before he was assassinated. In it, he declared that he still wasn’t going to stop and wasn’t concerned with such because he had received a fresh vision of His Lord Jesus Christ, and that He would one day be returning to Earth to reign as King of kings and Lord of lords.

You know, for so many reasons, I still can’t watch this video clip without tears running down my face. And when I grow up, I still want to be so much like Dr. King, just like I desire to be so much like King David, Abraham, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and so many others who have deeply impacted me for Jesus, in one way or another, even as they all prove that even “the best of men, are but men at best” (A.W. Pink).

So dear reader, let’s keep thinking; let’s keep the necessary conversations going while being more eager to listen than to speak; let’s love one another sacrificially; let’s love our enemies as Jesus commanded us; let’s continue facing this current evil day with relevant Gospel outreaches and spontaneous acts of love, all in our deepest desire to showcase Jesus Christ as man’s only solution for every dilemma—and especially the dilemma of race and America’s ongoing reaping from the ongoing sowing of things that clearly contradict the heart and mind of God concerning how people treat and value one another. Happy Birthday, Dr. King! Salute!

“Rarely do we find men who willingly engage in hard, solid thinking. There is an almost universal quest for easy answers and half-baked solutions. Nothing pains some people more than having to think.” — Strength To Love, 1963

“And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor,
Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”
— Isaiah 9:6b

Every Christmas, it seems like Santa Claus gets more and more attention. He’s the star of movies and television specials, his picture appears on cards and wrapping paper, and he can be found at every mall. Life-size plastic Santas light up our front yards, and the worldwide progress of Santa’s sleigh and reindeer are even tracked on Christmas Eve newscasts!

Why is Santa Claus such a big deal? Perhaps it’s because we want someone supernatural to believe in, someone who’s too good to be true, someone who’ll show us the way to live and how to love one another.

For most people, it doesn’t matter that Santa is a fantasy—at least he’s an ideal we can look up to for a few weeks every year. But actually, the fantasy Santa Claus is based on a real person.

A Kind Man Named Nicholas

There was a man named Nicholas who lived in present-day Turkey in the fourth Century A.D. He was called Saint Nicholas because he lived a devout Christian life from an early age. It’s believed that the name Santa Claus came from the Dutch translation of his real name, Sinter Klaas. Saint Nicholas was a generous man and was especially noted for a specific act of kindness: giving bags of money to a poor man who had three daughters. This money was used for the daughters’ dowries so they could be married.

Saint Nicholas became the bishop of Myra in Turkey and was persecuted and imprisoned by the Roman Emperor Diocletian for his devotion to Christ. When the Roman Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity, Saint Nicholas was released from prison and continued to live as a zealous Christian minister throughout the rest of his life.

Who Did Nicholas Believe In?

Saint Nicholas was a man filled with the spirit of joy and giving because he believed not in a myth, but in the divine Savior. Though the fat, happy Santa Claus who wears a red suit and lives at the North Pole is a fantasy, there’s a real supernatural person you can believe in and depend on every day of the year.

That person is Jesus Christ.

For much of the culture at large, the true meaning of Christmas is almost totally lost. Most people think of Christmas sentimentally. A recent survey indicated that here in America, and I’m sure this would extend to the rest of the Western world as well, “a fewer number of people are celebrating Christmas as a religious holiday.” Of those surveyed here in the U.S., only 57 percent (down from 64 percent just 3 years ago) say they believe what the Gospels teach about the birth of Jesus. For most people, Christmas is about getting new things and spending time with family and friends. It’s not a bad thing to exchange gifts and spend time with family and friends, but if you leave Jesus out, calling the day Christ-mas makes little to no sense.

Yet even among believers, the true meaning of Christmas can often be obscured. We sentimentalize the manger surrounded by farm animals with baby Jesus in the center, asleep on the hay. But from the Biblical standpoint, Christmas is actually the fulfillment of the first phase of God’s Great Rescue Mission. If we fail to understand and celebrate Christmas in a way that overlooks or obscures that, then we have, to some degree, sentimentalized Christmas.

Seeing Christmas as God’s rescue mission, what do we see?

The Mission was Absolutely Necessary

“Long lay the world in sin and error pining” are words we have all heard and probably even sung for years. They are words that describe the human condition day after day, month after month, year after year, century after century—a pitiful situation we haven’t been able to free ourselves from even after thousands of years of attempting to do so. We had exhausted every hope of self-deliverance. We were Dead in Trespasses and Sins, Spiritually Blind, Living in Darkness, and Held Captive by Satan to do his will. To free us all from Satan’s power, one more powerful than he must intervene. As author Paul Tripp said, “Sin is so disastrous and inescapable that the only solution was for God to come and rescue us.”

Not only are we bound in sin and captives of the devil, we are also blind to our true condition. Blind to our need to be rescued. In an early episode of “The Crown” (Netflix), they portray Billy Graham’s visit to Queen Elizabeth during his 1954 London crusade.

The aristocracy, apart from the Queen, loathed the idea that this unsophisticated country boy from North Carolina would suggest that they were sinners in need of a savior. At one point, someone near the Queen spoke up, saying, “Holding a crusade gives the impression that we are no better than the pagans.” Yep, that’s how most people feel: dead in sin, captives of Satan and completely unaware of it all.

The Mission was Planned

All the way back to before the beginning of time, God, knowing that the ones he created and loved would be taken captive by the enemy, planned their rescue.

Matthew, in his Gospel, quotes two of Israel’s prophets to show that the events that unfolded in the manger in Bethlehem were happening according to God’s plan:

“Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel.” Isaiah 7:14

“But as for you Bethlehem … too little to be among the clans of Judah, from you One will come forth for Me to be ruler in Israel. His times of coming forth are from long ago, from the days of eternity.” Micah 5:2

His coming was ordained from the days of eternity—before time.

The Mission was Costly

Mary: I wonder if we ever stop to think about the price those involved in the rescue mission paid. Think of Mary. Of course, there was the honor of being chosen to be the mother of the Messiah, but not everyone believed the story of her being pregnant by supernatural means. This would cast a shadow of suspicion over her and tarnish her reputation for the rest of her life. Jewish writers would later accuse her of having an adulterous relationship with a Roman soldier. And that is only part of the cost. Think of what it was like for Mary to see her own son viciously turned on by the mob and brutally murdered by the state. As Simeon prophesied to Mary, “A sword will pierce your own soul.”

Joseph: Think about Joseph for a moment. The emotional difficulty he suffered initially upon hearing that his betrothed was with child. Surely, this would have rocked his world. It took nothing less than an angelic visitation and revelation about Mary’s condition and the child Mary would bear to bring him back to a state of peace of mind. All of this obviously took Joseph out of his comfort zone, to say the least.

God the Father: What about the cost to the Father who gave his one and only Son? The Father who sent his beloved into the world where he would be despised and rejected, mocked, ridiculed, spit upon, brutally beaten and murdered. And these are only the things we can see that Jesus suffered. God only knows all that was involved when Jesus was being made an offering for sin, as Isaiah prophesied.

God the Son: The emotional, physical, and spiritual sufferings of the Son are the price he paid to redeem us and bring us back to God. But even beyond that, what does it mean that God the Son would now and forever have His deity joined with humanity? Is there an unimaginable cost involved in that for Jesus? It seems so. We don’t know all that the Incarnation entailed, but it’s something to ponder. For all of those immediately involved in the mission to rescue the captives, there was a cost.

The Mission was Dangerous, even Deadly

The Incarnation was the first step toward the Crucifixion. And in between were many perils: Herod’s attempt to destroy Jesus as a child, the people of Nazareth attempting to throw him off a cliff, the constant plots and schemes of the religious leaders to destroy him. The mission was fraught with danger.

To save His people from their sins would require that He give His life in exchange for theirs. This is the reality of a rescue mission.

On July 4^th, 1976, the IDF pulled off one of the greatest rescue missions of modern times when a commando unit liberated 102 Israeli and Jewish victims of the terrorist hijacking of Air France flight 139, which was given safe haven at the Entebbe International Airport by Idi Amin, the Ugandan dictator. This rescue mission was known as Operation Entebbe, but later became known as Operation Jonathan in memory of the unit’s leader, who was the only soldier killed during the mission—Lt. Col. Jonathan Netanyahu. He was the older brother of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

The rescue mission that God sent His Son on would be dangerous; it would actually be deadly. In His effort to rescue us, Jesus would give up His own life. The manger was the first stop on the way to the cross.

The Mission was Personal

He shall save His people from their sins. This is a family matter. Christmas is the story of the Father sending the Son, the Older Brother, to rescue the children who have been abducted and are being held captive by their tormentors. Hebrews so profoundly expresses this, “Since the children share in flesh and blood, he likewise shared in their humanity, so that through death he could destroy the one who holds the power of death—that is, the devil, and set free those who were held captive all their lives by their fear of death.”

Mission Accomplished

So we see, Christmas is not mainly about gifts or decorations or food or family or friends or time off work, etc. Those are all good things, but they’re not the main thing, which is so much greater and more profound than all of those things could ever be in and of themselves. Christmas is about a loving Father who sent His Son on a mission, a mission to free us all from Satan’s power when we were gone astray, a mission to provide forgiveness for our sins and to bring us into a beautiful personal eternal relationship with the One who loves us with an everlasting love, the One who has a wonderful plan and purpose for our lives that stretches beyond time into eternity.

Christmas is nothing less than God’s ultimate rescue mission!

As a child at Christmas, our family crèche was placed in the living room next to a tall, lighted noble fir tree, dripping with ornaments from all over the world. My parents celebrated this day with all the trimmings—lots of presents, a huge feast, and a beautifully decorated home with all the winter charm. We were not a churchgoing family, yet I sometimes attended a Lutheran Sunday School with my siblings. I remember my twin brother and I waking up early in the morning and being exceptionally quiet, trying not to wake my parents so they would keep sleeping and we could miss church, once again. As we grew older, they lost interest in taking us.

A Family Tradition

My understanding of Christmas was partly formed alongside our captivating Nativity crèche with its silent figures, drawing my playful attention. For weeks, I would stare at the ceramic figure of Mary on both knees in adoration of her baby, Jesus, holding both hands to her heart. Next to her was Joseph, kneeling on one knee, keeping guard at the manger. One lone shepherd, dressed in rags, stood at a distance, holding a lamb on his shoulders while surrounded by his devoted sheep. Most fascinating to me were the three wisemen, dressed in glorious attire with turbans on their heads and holding gifts for the helpless Baby. One wiseman knelt reverently, while the other two waited their turn to present their offerings.

I spent hours moving the animals around in this enchanting scene, which also included a cow, donkey, and sheep. Which one should I place next to the special Babe that everyone sang about? A birthday celebration surrounded by animals and shepherds in wonderment captured my imagination. It seemed unheard of—yet also so believable.

The Surprising Theological Depth of Carols and Christmas Films

Besides the crèche, my childlike conception of the incarnation was also formed by the Christmas albums stacked high,playing for hours on our hi-fi stereo near the tree. The music filled the air, as did the smell of spritz cookies baking in the oven. Throughout December, the great crooners from the 1930s to the 1960s serenaded me day and night.

The peace I felt hearing Bing Crosby sing “Silent Night” taught me that the birth of Jesus came silently and humbly, filling my heart with wonder. Bing’s soothing voice singing of heavenly peace still brings nostalgia to this day.

Nat King Cole’s version of “Silent Night” added another memorable verse: “Son of God, loves pure light, radiant beams from Thy holy face, with the dawn of redeeming grace.” I didn’t know what “redeeming grace” meant at the time, yet the words sounded so calming.

In our idyllic, Christmas-decorated home, the Bible was never opened or read. The longest reading of Scripture I heard as a child was from the movie, A Charlie Brown Christmas, when Linus recited Luke 2:8-14, explaining “what Christmas is all about.”

Understanding Deepened

“The First Noël,” sung joyfully by Crosby, spoke of shepherds “keeping their sheep on a cold winter’s night that was so deep.” Then they looked up and saw “a bright star shining there in the East beyond them far!” Like a golden thread in a tapestry, the bright star was woven into many Christmas carols. Kings followed it, Mary and Joseph saw it, and songs were written to honor such a celestial miracle. At the top of our family crèche, we added a gold foil star, and my chubby fingers wedged it into the roof of the stable, just above Baby Jesus. The mystery of that star continues to fascinates me today.

Frank Sinatra’s triumphant “Hark the Herald Angels Sing,” taught me about the heavenly angels who sang in celebration at Jesus’ birth, “Glory to the newborn king!” This Baby was worshiped as King by other kings from the Orient, praised by angels, and treasured by His adoring parents. The line, “God and sinners, reconciled,” was far above my understanding, but it sounded hopeful!

“O Little Town of Bethlehem,” sung by Elvis, introduced me to a little hamlet far away in Israel, across the world from me in the state of Washington. Israel had only been a nation for twelve years when I was born. Since I had never read the Bible, I had no idea of this ancient country’s history. But I learned that “the hopes and fears of all the years” were met in Bethlehem on that wonderful night. I did not understand why, but listening to Crosby and Sinatra sing “O Come all ye Faithful,” I sensed a calling to adore this Babe born in Bethlehem, this King of angels. I was curious, but clueless.

Of all the Christmas carols I heard as a child, my favorite was “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” sung by Nat King Cole. I did not know what “tidings” were, but “comfort and joy” appealed to my young mind. Trying to comprehend “Satan and his power,” however, along with “we were gone astray” took another decade to decipher. It was then that my parents told me they did not believe in “the adversary.”

From Barbra Streisand’s 1967 Christmas album, I heard the haunting lyric, “I wonder as I wander out under the sky, how Jesus the Savior, did come for to die.” This early American Christmas hymn, planted new thoughts into my mind. Andy Williams echoed similar sentiments on his Christmas Album, (he had the best one, by the way). He laments in his song of apology, “Sweet little holy Child,” that “We didn’t know who You were. Didn’t know You’d come to save us Lord, to take our sins away; our eyes were blind, we could not see, we didn’t know who You were.” These lyrics made me curious. Did I know who He was? The words helped me understand that Jesus was born for a higher purpose, for something grander that I could ever imagine.

Result: A Softened Heart

Growing up, even in a non-believing home, both the crèche and the carols softened my heart with a tenderness for Jesus. There He lay, perfect and harmless, a little child like me. I felt struck by the reality of the Christmas story, the simple, humble beauty of it all. When my sixteenth birthday rolled around a decade later, I transposed my life into the line from “O Holy Night” that says, “Long lay the world, in sin and error pining, ‘til He appeared, and my soul felt its worth.”

At sixteen, I came face to face with my own sin, weakness, and brokenness. My mind recalled the sweet memories of Jesus born as a gift for me, my Savior to receive and my King to worship. I had no gold or sweet spices to offer, but I did not hesitate to present my heart to Him. Deep down, I knew He would treasure my gift. And in exchange, He gave me a thrill of hope for my weary soul.

“Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care, and take us to Heaven to live with Thee there.”

The Nativity Is Not Naïveté

Christmas has always been one of my favorite holidays. It’s more than the songs, the city lights, or the food. Even in my young adult life, when I was at odds with anything Christian, the Manger Story always drew me in. To my eyes, it looked so peaceful, hopeful, like home. It wasn’t until many years after coming to faith that I realized the warm feeling was my soul longing for Jesus.

As told in Matthew’s Gospel, the Christmas story is a salvation story. We’re narrated into the mind of a man trying to do the best he knows how to do. His betrothed is pregnant, and he’s not the father. This is enough to cause much anguish. To his credit, he doesn’t want to shame her, but the text doesn’t say that he bought into the pregnant by the Holy Spirit explanation when he first heard it either. It took an angel to stop him.

Thanks to the divine intervention, Joseph could hear things from another perspective. This perfectly timed conversation with the right person allowed him to. This wouldn’t be the great scandal that he feared, although obviously, people would talk. Mary was innocent. Her child was conceived of the Holy Spirit. It was true. All of this followed the plan in Isaiah 7:14. The Messiah was to be born, God would walk among His people, and Joseph was given a most privileged place in the salvation story.

The name of Jesus, given to Joseph when he was in doubt, is a name that’s so special to all who know Him. His name, if its meaning is understood, “YHWH is salvation,” is a statement that gives us strength. He is salvation; He will accomplish all He has promised. He will save us. He has saved us from our sin, our shame. Then, understanding what His name means can become a prayer. Lord save. It’s not some strange magic; there’s power in His name. Jesus is the Savior. Personally, as a rebellious twenty-something, I remember finding myself in a life-or-death situation, frightened to my core, beyond trembling. I had only one thought at that moment: the cry of my soul. Jesus, save me. And He did. It is powerful to call out to the Lord.

Decisions, Choices, and Actions

It touches my heart that Joseph received the Lord’s name at such a confusing moment. Life is often unknown, and decisions must be made. How often do the apparent choices we planned for take a sudden, unexpected turn that menace imminent disaster? The threat of public scorn paralyzes in any culture, but in a more shame-based one like first-century Galilee, this would be a terrible blow to the man and his family. The angel says beautifully, “Joseph, son of David, don’t be afraid to take Mary as your wife” (Matthew 1:20). Don’t be afraid, or as the TDNT says, the word translated fear is “ the primary verb phébomai, “to flee.”^[1] As emotion transforms into action, being startled and running away suggests “fear.”Joseph’s fears were real, and his proposed action of putting her away discreetly, though a noble, protective act in his time, was also an escape route.

The escape routes we take, while panicked or shamed, can lead us far from stability. At times, they make the most sense, but the long-term perspective reveals their folly. After all, who wants to bear the actual or imagined scorn we might face when our failings go public? The flight or fight instinct has served many during life-threatening danger. But what if the Lord steps into our story as He did for Joseph? What if He invites us to weather the storm because His plan, despite everything we know, will lead to His glory? This requires faith that cannot be blind; otherwise, it’s naïve at best or, at worst, presumption. Joseph was guilty of neither.

Joseph trusted the One who had been watching over his family for a thousand generations, the One who had promised a Savior. His name was to be called Jesus, “YHWH is salvation.” Sure, it was a common name, and sure, the child would blend in, but that was also the plan. Jesus was the name given, even graciously following the rabbinic tradition that the Messiah’s name would be known from all eternity.^[2] Joseph did as the angel said; he took Mary as his wife and named her firstborn Jesus.

The Name of Above Every Name

This name is the center of the salvation story. In Philippians 2:9, we read it’s the name above every name. And in Acts 4:12, it’s the name by which we must be saved. For us in the West, this Christmas season is quite uncertain; there seem to be more worries on a global scale than we knew even last year. Will we shrink back in fear of the unknown, seek an escape, or call on His name? Jesus remains the same.

Better than fleeing in times of trouble is being saved. Jesus truly saves. As Joseph resisted the temptation to put away his fiancée quietly, let’s not quietly put away our hope either. Jesus is the Savior, and we’ve yet to see how He will transform the bad into good this time. In the meantime, we have a statement and prayer every time we say His name. So come and let us adore Him.

References:

^[1] Theological Dictionary of the New Testament (TDNT), “Little Kittel” edited by Geoffrey W. Bromiley, Copyright © 1985 by William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company.
^[2] Donald A. Hagner, Matthew 1–13, vol. 33A of Word Biblical Commentary. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2000, 19.

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)

Paul was in the middle of encouraging the Corinthian church to be generous when he drew their attention to the generosity of Christ. It’s an amazing statement, full of beautiful Christmastime truth. Today, let’s consider three things: the wealth Jesus abandoned, the poverty Jesus embraced, and the reason he made that choice.

The Wealth He Abandoned

First, let’s consider the wealth Christ abandoned. Paul said, “You know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich…” (2 Cor. 8:9). Though he was rich. What riches did Christ possess? How was he rich?

In a word, Christ had glory. Before he went to the cross, he prayed to God, “And now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had with you before the world existed” (John 17:5). Even the wealthiest people in the world should not be permitted to call their situation glory. Glory is a position reserved for God alone—the glory of the Father, Son, and Spirit. Glory is divine. Before Jesus came, as Paul said, “He was in the form of God” (Phil. 2:6). Glory.

In his glory, Christ had incredible and incomprehensible wealth. He had wealth of position—no one was more supreme than him. The Bible calls him “the firstborn over all creation,” meaning there is nothing in any galaxy that is his equal (Col. 1:15). He had wealth of possession—no one owned more than Jesus. The Bible says “all things were created through him and for him,” meaning every single thing belongs to him (Col. 1:16). He also had wealth of power—no one is as powerful as Jesus. The Bible says everything was made “through him “ and that “in him all things hold together,” meaning we would not even exist without the creative and sustaining power of Christ (Col. 1:16-17). And he had wealth of peace—none of us could comprehend the total love, joy, gladness, and peace found within the Triune God.

Position. Possessions. Power. And peace. All of them belonged to Jesus to an infinite and unmeasurable degree. You could combine all the wealth of Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, and Bill Gates, and it would pale in comparison to the wealth that belonged to Jesus. All the possessions and power and peace found among us are not even a fraction of what Jesus had because he had all of it in infinite quantity. This is what Paul meant when he said Jesus was rich.

The Poverty He Embraced

Second, let’s consider the poverty Christ embraced. Paul said, “yet for your sake he became poor” (2 Cor. 8:9). The word Paul chose could signify abject poverty; Christ embraced a beggarly existence on that first Christmas.

When we consider the poverty of Christ, it is easy to fixate on the impoverished nature of his birth, life, and death. He was not born like the wealthy of his age. And he certainly wasn’t born into the luxury of ours. Instead, he was born among stabled animals in an overcrowded Bethlehem. His first cradle was a borrowed feeding trough. He was wrapped, not in premium linen or a custom Esty sleep sack, but strips of cloth.

And then Jesus’ early years were spent as a refugee in Egypt. Warned by an angelic dream, Joseph likely used the gold, frankincense, and myrrh from the worshipping kings to evade the murderous desires of Herod. Fleeing by night, they remained on the run until Herod’s death.

And then Jesus’ private adult life was one of poverty. He lived in a rocky hillside town called Nazareth. Population? Maybe two hundred, and certainly less than five hundred. It seems he learned Joseph’s trade and became the town carpenter—hardly a wealthy existence.

And when Jesus’ public ministry life began, it leaned heavily on the generosity of others. He said, “Foxes have holes, birds have nests, but I have nowhere to lay my head” (Mat. 8:20). Poor.

But none of these elements of poverty are Paul’s point. He’s not focused on how poor Jesus was as a human. What he’s focused on is that Jesus became a man. So while we might think he had hardly anything and lived in such poverty, heaven’s vantage point is different. The great sacrifice wasn’t in becoming the poorest of men but in becoming a man in the first place! As Paul said, “He emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men”(Phil 2:7).

The very being who was there at the beginning of all things with Father God, God himself, the One who made all things and in whom life is found, the light of the world, he became flesh and dwelt among us (John 1:1-4, 14). All the way to the point of death. The ultimate poverty.

And all of this was by choice. Paul said, “He became poor.” This indicates choice. He decided to take up humanity. And when he did, he became poor.

Becoming poor—going from wealth to poverty—is harder than knowing only poverty because your past wealth is a constant memory nagging at your current situation. But the most difficult of all is living in poverty while still being abundantly wealthy, choosing not to access the vastness of your riches so you can embrace the pain. No one does that. But Jesus did.

The Reason For His Choice

Lastly, let’s consider the reason for his choice. Why did he decide to do what he did? Paul said, “So that you by his poverty might become rich” (2 Cor. 8:9).

Why did Christ do what he did? Why did he abandon his wealth and embrace our poverty? It was all for us so that through his poverty, we might become wealthy.

Paul is alluding to the reason Christ came—his substitutionary death for us. Baby Jesus’ life was on a straight line to the cross. And that death, followed by his resurrection, would unlock a world of blessings for all who trust in him. By believing in Jesus, we become rich.

What wealth becomes ours in Christ? It’s the same wealth he abandoned when he came to us in the first place. Remember that wealth? Position. Possessions. Power. Peace. What do I mean?

We gain the wealth of position—God becomes our Father. He becomes our loving provider and guide and protector and friend. We are placed into Christ, and we become coheirs with Christ (Rom. 8:17). The Father sees us as he sees his only begotten Son.

We gain the wealth of possessions—in Christ, we have access to every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places (Eph. 1:3). And since this world belongs to him, we will one day inherit it when he returns. And, even now, since all things are through him and for him, he has given us all things to enjoy (1 Tim. 6:17).

We gain the wealth of power—in the sense that every principality and power was defeated at the cross of Christ, so now we have the resources we need to enter into victory over habits and tendencies that drag us down (Col. 3:13-15). He holds us together and gives us strength. We can overcome.

And we gain the wealth of peace—because of Jesus, we have the Spirit. The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Gal. 5:22-23). These elements—the peace of Christ—can rule our hearts today (Col. 3:15).

All these elements—and many more—became ours when Christ came into our lives. And 2 Corinthians 8:9 tells us that Jesus abandoned his wealth and embraced our poverty all so we could become rich. He placed us first. He loved us (John 3:16).

Conclusion

Last year, actor William Shatner of Star Trek fame briefly went into space in Jeff Bezos’s Blue Origin space shuttle, becoming the oldest living person to ever travel to space. In his book, he recounted the experience, stating that he was overcome with incredible sadness when confronted with the vastness and darkness of space and the warmth and smallness of earth.¹ They call it the “overview effect,” and apparently, it has happened to many astronauts over the years. On earth, we are confined within our borders and can easily dismiss the hardships in other nations or continents, but from space’s vantage point, war, hunger, and poverty become overwhelming.

And if that overview effect can be felt by finite beings, what must it be like for God? He can peer into every human heart. He has witnessed every act of evil. He has seen every abuse and heard every cry.

So what did he do? He denied himself the privileges of divinity, embraced the poverty of humanity, and, through his cross, made the way for us to become rich with him. On the cross, his human body consumed every act of evil, every abuse, and every cry. He became sin for us (2 Cor. 5:21). And as wrath was unleashed on him, he performed the greatest of rescue missions, becoming the poorest so that we might become the richest.

References:

For the past couple of years, Christmas trees seem to be appearing earlier and earlier. Not in the shops that want you to buy their stuff, but in the homes of regular people like you and me. It seems that people are watching Christmas movies, listening to Christmas music, and eating Christmas foods way earlier than ever before.

Why is that?

Is it a Bahrain-specific thing: I’m traveling soon but want to enjoy some Christmas cheer here before I leave? Perhaps … but there might be a bigger-picture reason.

When we decorate for Christmas, when we put up the tree and switch on the lights, what are we really doing? For some, it begins and ends there:

Decorating the home looks nice.

Twinkling lights look nice.

Mince pies taste nice.

Michael Bublé sounds nice.

For some, it’s very surface-level. It’s just … nice.

But, on a deeper level, when we put up the tree and switch on the lights, what are we really doing?

What we’re doing is turning our eyes and hearts and minds towards hope.

When we put up the tree and switch on the lights, we’re putting a (very) visual reminder in our homes and lives that something better is coming.

We’re telling ourselves that the lives we live in the here and now are not all that there is and all that there will ever be. We’re turning eyes and hearts and minds to hope:

The hope of a coming child, a son, through whom we can live a peace-filled life (Isaiah 9.6).

The hope of restoration to right relationship with God and the close and intimate fellowship this brings (Revelation 21.3).

The hope that there’s something, someone, bigger, greater, and above it all who loves you, cares for you, and stepped down into fallen creation to rescue you from it all (Philippians 2.5-11).

The last few years were strange, weren’t they?

They put us in situations of separation, of uncertainty, of anguish, and of heartache. At times like this, we need hope.

If we look to the world around us for hope, for encouragement, and for the reassurance that tomorrow will be better, then each and every year we may just end up putting the tree up a little bit earlier. Just think—if you’re having a bad year, maybe your tree will go up in the summer …

But, if we look only to Jesus for hope, for encouragement, and for the reassurance that tomorrow will be better, then we’ll be free to throw that tree up and switch on those lights whenever we want to because our hope is firmly rooted in the truth of the Word of God and the Word become flesh, Jesus.

So, when should we put up the tree and switch on the lights? I guess it depends on why you’re doing so. Thinking deeper and leaning harder on the truth of Jesus for your hope, encouragement, and reassurance this festive season, put that tree up whenever you like.