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We have a hard time listening to God. A phone vibrates, a mind runs off, and even when nothing interrupts we still lose the thread. The wise men of Matthew 2 trusted His word enough to travel months toward a king they couldn’t yet see—can we listen and trust Him when our own picture still looks unfinished?
Most of us navigate life by a quiet, practical question: what’s the minimum I need to get by with my time and my money? In Matthew 2, the wise men travel months across dangerous roads and then open their best treasures before the child—and the gap between what they did and what they could have gotten away with is exactly where this passage challenges us.
We can hear God’s Word, begin moving in the right direction, and still stop short when the journey lasts longer than expected. In Matthew 2, the wise men do not settle for reaching Jerusalem; they keep following God’s leading toward Bethlehem, raising a searching question for us: What will we do when obedience requires another step?
The decorations come down, the calendar turns, and Christmas recedes into memory—but Matthew 2 insists there’s something that doesn’t go out of season. And if the Gospel doesn’t go out of season, are we keeping ourselves focused on where it is pointing us?
There’s a pull in all of us to take the kind of strength the world respects—talk tough, take no prisoners, own the other side—and call that faithfulness. Does the way we fight for truth actually looks anything like Jesus?
You open what looks like a personal Christmas card and it’s just a pitch for insurance. There’s always the something being snuck by us, isn’t there? Jesus faced that same suspicion — how can we know He is really who He says He is?
Deep down, even people who come to God carry a fear that He will eventually give up on them — that sooner or later they’ll be shown the door. That fear is exactly what Jesus meets head-on in John 6.
We all know what we think we need—food, security, respect, a life that finally comes together—but Jesus in John 6 cuts straight to the question underneath: what do we really need, and why do we keep mistaking the temporary for the eternal?
How you respond to Jesus depends entirely on whether you’ve truly grasped who He is—and in John 6, as Jesus walks across the sea to His disciples in the dark, He makes that question impossible to dodge.
We all arrive at Advent carrying something broken—a diagnosis, a fraying relationship, a season that feels anything but joyful—and our instinct is right: we want God to fix it. In John 6, the crowd feels exactly that after watching Jesus feed five thousand people, so they move to do something about it. The question the passage presses on us is whether we actually understand what problem he came to fix.