The Prophets’ Christmas

Focal Passage: Isaiah 7:14 & 9:6-7; and Micah 5:2-5

It’s the Christmas season. The time when God stepped into the world with love, grace, humility and hope.

Through the years, I’ve written about Christmas from every angle and angel. I’ve studied the coming of the Messiah through the eyes of his earthly parents, the shepherds, the magi, and paranoid Herod, a priest name Simon and an elderly, devout woman named Anna. I’ve even written a more fanciful piece about the birth of Jesus from the eyes of a lamb.

As I looked to begin my study this year of the moment God sent his son into the world, I want to look at that moment from the eyes of the Old Testament prophets.

Scripture teaches that the moment God opted to grant humanity free will, he knew we would use that freedom to rebel against his plan for our lives. From the beginning of time, then, God had to find a way to bring his lost children back to him, despite the spiritual abyss we would create between us and God by our sinfulness. Before he put the world in place and set it spinning on its axis, he planned on Jesus.

Look at what Paul tells Timothy.

He has saved us and called us to a holy life—not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace. The grace was given to us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time, but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our savior Christ Jesus who has destroyed death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel. (2 Timothy 1:9)

Redemption was not an afterthought or a Plan B. It was purposeful and intentional. Therefore, God needed to convince us of our need for him and introduce to us the one he would send to show us the way home.

Enter the prophets. As God gave them words to speak, he wove through their prophecies a thread of redemptive hope with its beginnings in a Bethlehem manger.

The prophets lived centuries apart from one another. They lived amid completely different circumstances. Led different lives. Wrote in different eras. Served up judgment on a platter to different kings. They spoke God’s word of divine judgment, repentance and restoration to different generations.

Much like the blind men discovering an elephant, each prophet understood God’s Anointed One in part, but never in whole.

They never met Mary or shook the hand of Joseph. They never heard the angels sing. They never walked the streets of Bethlehem. They never felt the joy the shepherds felt. Never marveled alongside the magi. Never held the baby in their arms. Never saw what they foretold come to pass.

Yet, thanks to a revelation from God’s spirit, they all pointed in somewhat different ways to the same moment; to the same someone. They saw who he would be. Knew what he would do. Understood the titles he would carry. They all spoke of Jesus, even when they never knew his name.

And on the night Jesus was born, their words—scattered across centuries—were suddenly fulfilled in the form of a swaddled infant, in the outskirts of an obscure village, in a makeshift crib filled with hay.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. (John 1:14)

That moment began the fulfillment of every prophetic word spoken for hundreds of years prior to that first Christmas morning.

Isaiah’s Whisper

The prophet Isaiah’s prophetic message almost 750 years before the birth of Jesus came at a time of national fear. His people faced a looming and hostile invasion, political collapse and spiritual confusion. In that sense, Isaiah’s words feel like a quiet voice spoken in a dark moment. Almost a whisper carried to people who were afraid of and unsure about the future.

While he warned of judgment and called for repentance, he promised that God had not forgotten them. He shared with them the hope of the Messiah and the arrival of the kingdom of God. Isaiah spoke about a miraculous moment in time.

A virgin will conceive and bear a son; and they will call his name Immanuel. (Isaiah 7:14)

God’s message through Isaiah didn’t stop there, as if the miraculous birth was the climax of the Creator’s eternal work. God revealed to his prophet another nuanced layer.

To us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom establishing it and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this. (Isaiah 9:6-7)

Isaiah’s prophecies waited for more than seven centuries. On the night of Jesus’ birth, his words were no longer ink on faded parchment. His words were a baby, born to a faithful carpenter and young woman whose heart found favor with God.

Micah’s Confidence

The prophetic ministries of Isaiah and Micah overlapped in time and circumstance. Micah saw the same corruption in Jerusalem. Felt the same fear of an Assyrian invasion. Yet, he confidently condemned the injustice he saw among leaders and spoke of the pending judgment upon a people who had turned their backs on God.

He stood in the gap and told the people that, despite the hardships to come, God promised a future ruler from Bethlehem who would be their good shepherd and herald a time of peace. This “messianic hope” appears especially in Micah 5:2–5, spoken as reassurance that God would raise a true king after Israel’s failed leadership. Look at the words God gave him to speak.

But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from the old and ancient times. He will stand and shepherd his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God. And they will live securely, for then his greatness will reach the ends of the earth. And he will be our peace… (Micah 5:2, 4-5)

For generations, the small and unimpressive village of Bethlehem sat unnoticed in the Judean hillside, but God, 700 years before, had written its future. Bethlehem would play a role in God’s plan through the cries of an unlikely king and the redemptive work of Jesus Christ.

Though many other prophets shared God’s word about the ministry and mission of the coming Messiah, Isaiah and Micah are the only two who described details of his birth. Did any of these prophets fully understand the whole picture? I doubt it.

Do you remember when Jesus sent his disciples throughout Galilee, telling them they would be given power to preach and to heal in his name? They returned from that first century mission trip amazed how God had used their preaching and ministry to bring salvation to so many people.

After praying a prayer of gratitude to the Father for the work they had done, Jesus, filled with joy, pulled his disciples aside. Listen to what he told them.

Then he turned to his disciples and said privately, “Blessed are the eyes that see what you see. For I tell you that many prophets and kings wanted to see what you see, but did not see it; to hear what you hear but did not hear it. (Luke 10:23-24)

So, if the prophets never saw or heard the whole picture, why do they matter? Why do the partial images they revealed about Jesus’ birth and life and death and resurrection matter to you and me on this side of that first Christmas?

It matters because Christmas is not an isolated event. It is the beginning of the rest of the story.

Every promise—
every symbol—
every sacrifice—
every prophecy—
every hope—

pointed toward Bethlehem and Immanuel, God with us.

The prophets did not live to see it, but you have. Listen to John’s words again.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.

Then, look again at the words of Jesus.

Blessed are the eyes that see what you see. Blessed are the ears that hear what you hear.

You see, Isaiah’s world was not a lot different from our own. Hostility. Political uncertainty. Spiritual confusion. His words still feel like a quiet whisper spoken in a dark moment to people unsure of the future.
His message does not change.

To you a child is born. To you a son is given.

Can you see it? Can you hear it?

That’s Christmas!

If you are a believer in Christ, the prophets words link the past to your present. God’s promises are your truth. They are confirmation of God’s plan of redemption through the baby in a manger who grew to be your substitute on a cross–the living and resurrected Jesus. You are blessed to have seen what you have seen and heard what you heard.

If your Christmas lacks the meaning you see in those who believe, the visions of the prophets are your markers. The waypoints on a spiritual journey that will reveal the depth of God’s love for you in the truth of Jesus Christ. The promises of the prophets are fulfilled in Jesus. Their longing can be your joy as it is mine. See it. Hear it. Your blessing awaits.

Let this be our Christmas prayer for 2025.

“Lord, thank you for speaking through the prophets and for fulfilling every promise in Jesus. Let the hope that sustained them also sustain me. Teach me to trust your timing and rejoice that your Word always becomes flesh. Amen.”

Thinking Points

How does thinking about Christmas through the voices of the prophets deepen your understanding of God’s long-planned redemption?

 

How has the Word “become flesh” in your personal story? In what ways has that baby in a manger changed your heart and your world view?

 

What keeps me from recognizing the blessings I already “see and hear,” blessings the prophets longed for but never experienced?

 

How might embracing the continuity between the prophets’ longing and Christ’s coming reshape the way I enter this Christmas season?

Favor With God

Background Passages: Luke 1:26-38; James 4:6; John 3:16

The young woman bent low in the knees and ducked through the doorway of her father’s home a tall jar of water upon her shoulder. As she turned to place the vessel on the table she stared in fear at the angel standing near the fireplace.

“Greetings, you who are highly favored. The Lord is with you.”

As the jar of water crashed to the floor, Mary back away toward the door in fear and confusion. Quickly, the angel spoke, his voice comforting and concerned, “Do not be afraid. Mary, you have found favor with God.”

As the angel laid out God’s plan for Mary’s life, I cannot fathom the whirlwind of emotions she experienced. Her world turned upside down.

Through God’s great gift of Christmas, the final piece of creation’s puzzle fell in place, planned before time…perfected through the life, death and resurrection to come. Mary heard the words of the angel and struggled to understand the heady revelation that she, an ordinary young woman from an inconsequential village in Galilee, would be the vessel through whom God chose to present himself to the world.

As profound as those words might have been, had I been Mary, I might have wrestled as much with the beginning of the angel’s message…

“You have found favor with God.”

In the world’s language, to show favoritism is to show exceptional kindness to someone, especially in comparison to the treatment of others. Preferential treatment. In the first century, people believed that wealth, health and blessing were signs of God’s favor upon you. That you had done something to earn his favor.

Consider Mary’s life following the angel’s announcement. It hardly speaks to preferential treatment. Her life spun out of control almost immediately.

Joseph had every right to disown her and discredit her publicly. Though he embraced a similar angelic message, others would be less understanding. A few months later, she faced an arduous and uncomfortable journey to Bethlehem in her last trimester. Upon their arrival, the only place available to them was an unholy stable among the animals. She gave birth far from family and friends who might celebrate with her.

A short time later, she fled to a foreign land ahead of a king’s murderous soldiers who were intent upon killing her son. She later watched in dread as her son’s message of God’s forgiveness was met with scorn and hatred by the religious leaders of the day. She heard a bloodthirsty crowd call for his crucifixion. She watched from a distance and felt the echo of each hammer driving nails through the hands and feet of her beloved son. She wept at his feet as blood and life drained from his body.

If she thought at all of the angel’s announcement as she stood near the cross, I doubt she felt favored. This was hardly a life of preferential treatment. What, then, did it mean for Mary to find favor with God?

Nothing in scripture indicates that God’s favor falls upon people simply for their own enjoyment. We find those on whom God’s favor rests given great responsibility so the lives of others may be changed. So God might be glorified. Moses. Abraham. Job. These were men who found God’s favor. Nothing about their lives was easy. All carried the burden of life heavily on their shoulders.

You see, I often thought God chose Mary because of something uniquely righteous within her. That her faith was deeper and her life purer than any other…by extension, deeper and purer than my own life. Seeing Mary in those terms diminishes God’s work of grace. In many ways it cheapens the miracle of Christmas.

Bible scholars tell us that the word in Luke 1:30 which most Bible’s translate as “favor” is the same Greek word from which we get our word for “grace.”

“Mary, you have found God’s grace.”

Mary wasn’t chosen to be the mother of Jesus because her goodness outshone any other. Rather, God extended an offer of grace to Mary to be used by God for something which carried enormous responsibility. The angel’s declaration came, not because she deserved it. It came as a gift. Undeserved. Unmerited.

Mary could have rejected God’s offer. She could have said, “Not me. Find someone else.” Yet, she considered all the angel said and declared, “I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be fulfilled.”

With those words, Mary, as a young teenage girl, accepted God’s grace gift and all that it would entail without fully understanding the implications for her own life.

James 4:6 proclaims that “God opposes the proud, but shows favor (grace) to the humble.” It is this thought I had not considered in the Christmas story. That Mary found favor with God had little to do with her goodness and everything to do with her humble spirit. Her desire to be open to the possibilities God presented to her. That idea has implications for my life I had not considered.

I stand today a recipient of God’s favor, his unmerited grace. The offer to accept Jesus Christ as savior came through the conviction of the Holy Spirit, not because I deserved it, but as a gift undeserved. It came as an offer I could have refused. Yet, I considered all the spirit said to me and said in essence, “I am your servant.” With those words, as a nine-year-old boy, I accepted God’s grace gift and all it would entail without fully understanding the implications for my own life.

For any of us to embrace God’s gift of his son, there comes a point when we must humble ourselves before him, recognizing that it is not our goodness that merits his favor. It is through his unfailing love for us that his grace flows.

For those of us who have placed our faith and trust in Jesus, Christmas is a joyous reminder that God so loved the world that he sent his only son to be to be his grace gift to the world.

Mary humbly embraced the role God asked her to play and bore the burden of responsibility it carried with it. Like Mary, in response to God’s grace, may we, in all humility, be open to the possibilities God presents to us.

 

Don’t Say ‘Merry Christmas’

We sat on the floor in the middle of my son’s living room on Christmas morning, amid open boxes and scraps of torn wrapping paper. My grandsons, Eli and Josiah, laughed and played with new toys that had quickly become their favorites. Snatching Josiah into her lap as he danced across the floor in delight, my wife, Robin, hugged our youngest grandson and wished him, “Merry Christmas.”

Continue reading “Don’t Say ‘Merry Christmas’”

The Star

Background Passages: Genesis 1:14-20, Matthew 2:1-2, and 2 Timothy 1:8-10
An  Angel.
Sat beside the Creator.
Stardust smeared across its cheek
after a long day of placing planets and suns in place
under the watchful eye of God Almighty.
It surveyed the heavens.
Smile brightening.
Glancing at the Creator with a twinkle in its eyes,
“It’s good.”

 

The Creator.
Placed a hand on the Angel’s knee.
Shook His head.
Grinned.
“Not quite yet.”
One more thing to do.
One last heavenly body among
countless points of light.

A quiet word.
Wisps of ice and rock appear
in front of His face.
Spinning slowly.
Suspended
on the backdrop of
space.

The  Creator.
Gathered the formless mass into His hands.
Rolled the aggregate in His palms into a tight ball.
In deep concentration,
He looks into the universe
He just formed on this fourth day of conception.
Triangulating a position in a distant, inconspicuous galaxy
with the third planet from a remote sun
and a precise moment in time yet to come.

He nodded to His Angel.
Pointed into the depths of the cosmos.
“Take it…
there.”

In a flash the Angel carried it across universe and time.

“A little left,”
the Creator instructed.
The Angel shifted its position ever so slightly.
“Perfect,” said God.
“Now…
give it a push.”

The small rock hurtled through space
beginning its protracted,
but crucial journey.
God leaned back.
The Angel suddenly by his side again.
The Creator lifted his chin.
Stretched out his arms
to encompass all He designed that day.
Turned to his Angel.
“Now,”
He said with a smile,
“It’s good.”

*

Eons.
The Angel studied the rock on its course.
Baffled.
Bewildered.
Bemused.
Pondering the point of its
placement at that
precise spot
in the universe.

Such a small object
tumbling through space.
Mundane by any standard.
Especially when compared to the splendor of the
star clusters,
supernovae and
galaxies.

It left him…
wondering.

For time upon time,
the angel would check its progress.
Nothing spectacular.
Nothing of note.
Nothing to indicate its purpose.

It always left him…
Wondering.

One day as the Angel
watched and waited…
The ball of ice and rock,
pulled by the intense gravity of that
distant, yellow star,
reacted to its heat.
Ice cracked.
Broke off from the surface.

As it gained speed it left a
thin trail of frozen particles in its wake.
The residue grew brighter each passing day,
reflecting light from the star.
The tiny ball of ice and rock blossomed into its
God-planned existence as a large comet.
Its entire existence conceived for
this purpose and
this purpose only.

The Comet.
Caught in a death spiral by the gravity of the sun.
Glowed brightly.
Visible day and night.
Its light seemed to stand still
amid the incomparable beauty of a
God-created universe.

Locked for this time…
Inside an
undistinguished galaxy.
In an
isolated solar system.
Near an
indistinct planet.
Over an
insignificant country.
Above an
inconsequential village.

This “star,” to those who observed it more than 2,000 years ago,
pointed to
an inhospitable stable
in which lay an
indescribable child.
God’s only Son.

The Angel.
Watched events unfold.
No longer wondering.
Rather in awestruck wonder
of God’s revealed plan.
It looked in reverence at the Creator
as He looked in Love at the Creation.

The Angel whispered…
“It’s very good.”

*

Think about it.

The Star…
The stable
in Bethlehem.

The Star…
The shepherds
in the fields.

The Star…
The sages
from the East.

The Star…
The Savior
in the manger.

What perfect timing!
What intricate and eternal planning!

With the gentle push of an Angel
eons past,
God planned for the Star to reach that
specific spot in space
at that
special moment in time.
Pointing to the most beautiful
Creation in the entire expanse of
His immeasurable universe.

God sent His Son…
immaculately conceived and
human born…
not as an afterthought to a world that
unexpectedly broke away from Him.
Not as an attempt to correct His
botched effort at a perfect humanity.

No.
The birth of His Son.
Written on God’s heart
as a planned intervention.
Considered
before time existed.
Contemplated
before human creation.
Conceived
before we knew our need for Him.

His Son…
sent to redeem a world He knew from
inception would selfishly refuse the relationship
the Creator most desired with
His most beloved Creation.
You.
Me.

When I look, really look, at
God’s creation…
His majesty evident
in all I see.
His mystery evolving
in so much I don’t fully understand.
It leaves me…
wondering.

When I surrender, really surrender, to
Salvation’s Child…
His mercy evident
in His sacrifice.
Its miracle evolving
in so much I don’t fully understand.
I watch my life unfold…
no longer wondering.
Rather in in awestruck wonder
of God’s grace so freely offered through a Child
whose destiny lay on a cross.
My reconciliation.
My redemption.

Before the world was made.
The Creator put everything in motion.
Designed to come together at a
perfect place and point
in time.

For no other reason but to…
Give me a choice.
Give you a choice.

We can follow our own path or we can…
Follow the Light of the Star.
Find a Savior.

For no other reason…
that makes this a
Merry Christmas.

We look in reverence at the Creator
as He looks in Love at His Creation.
As believers in what He has done,
we whisper as did the Angel…

“It’s very good.”

Continue reading “The Star”

The Stable Boy

Background Passage: Luke 2:1-20
People flooded Bethlehem
in answer to the governor’s decree.
Returning to their home town to be taxed.
Travel made them…
irritable.
Taxation made them…
irate.Boisterous.
Belligerent.
Bellicose. Families poured into the
 City of David from all directions of the wind.
Swelling the population of the sleepy village,
well beyond its capacity.

 

Hospitality ruled.
Family and stranger
open home and business to the weary travelers.
Considerate.
Courteous.
Custom.

 A stable boy.
Ten-years old.
All too skinny.
Almost skeletal.
A brush with a Roman chariot as a young boy
left him with a shattered leg that never healed properly.
Twisted at an awkward angle.
Weak and wobbly,
each step aided by a walking stick.

The stable boy
dodged through familiar streets.
Picked his way back and forth
from the town’s only inn
to the stable inside the rocky cave,
behind the mud-bricked building.

He spent his day…
Lugging belongings
to the rooms inside.
Leading beasts of burden
to the stalls out back.
Lifting water jars
to fill the troughs.
Laying fresh hay in the mangers
To feed the livestock.

Seen, but unseen.
Speaking, but never heard.

Long after the sun set,
The stable boy blew out a slow breath.
A sigh heavy with fatigue.
He leaned down.
Picked up a wooden bucket,
Turned it over.
Sat wearily upon it.
Pulled his knees to his chest.
Laid his head on his arms
Fell instantly asleep.

His mind registered the sound
long before his eyes blinked open.
The echoing clip clop of a donkey’s hooves
trudging through the rocky street.

A young man walked out of the shadows.
Broad-shouldered.
Brawny.
The flow of his robe could not conceal that he was
powerfully built by years of hard work.
Physical vitality betrayed only by the
exhaustion in his eyes.

The man led his donkey by a loose halter.
Upon the donkey a young woman.
Pregnant.
Pained.
Spent.
Jostling back and forth with each
labored step of her animal.

The couple stopped at the door to the inn.
The man gently braced the woman
as she slid from the donkey’s back.
A kind smile and a quiet word
let her know they reached their destination.
She leaned against the donkey as
he stepped toward the front door.
With a crooked grin,
he placed a heavy hand on the
stable boy’s shoulder as he passed.
Squeezed it in a way that said,
“We made it,”
Walked inside without another word.

The stable boy stared at the woman.
He could not help himself.
Saw how young she was.
Could not imagine the difficulty of her journey.
Knew enough of the world to know…
she was ready to deliver her child.

She greeted the boy with a wave.
“Good evening.”
After the chaos of his day,
her words sounded like the melody of a meadowlark.
Wistful.
Welcoming.
Warm.

Before he could answer,
Her husband came out of the building
followed on his heels by the apologetic innkeeper
They spoke in whispered and urgent tones.
The stable boy listened to the muted conversation,
deliberately kept quiet and low to
avoid alarming the woman.

“Look at her,”
the man pleaded.
“She is due any day. I must find her a place to stay.
We’ve been everywhere else.
I can find no bed for her rest.”

“We have no room,”
said the man in sympathy,
all too aware of his unfulfilled responsibility as host.
 
The young man looked again at his wife.
Nodded his acceptance of a bad situation.
Shook the innkeeper’s hand.
Stepped toward his wife,
fatigue etched in his face and
his fallen shoulders
All too aware of his unfulfilled responsibility as husband.

“Wait,”
said the innkeeper.
The young man turned back,
a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Continue reading “The Stable Boy”