God's Kind of People--January 16, 2026

God's Kind of People--January 16, 2026

Peter began to speak to [Cornelius and his household]: “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every people anyone who fears him and practices righteousness is acceptable to him...." (Acts 10:34-35)

There's never a time when God says, "Those aren't our kind of people." There is no point where God says, "Get out of here and go back to where you came from." There will never be a person of whom God says, "We don't welcome your kind around here." And once we realize that, we are changed forever.

That was certainly Simon Peter's story, which we get here in this snippet from the book of Acts, and which many of us heard in worship this past Sunday.  This is the moment when Peter finally "gets it," when it finally dawns on him that God is doing something new in the community of Jesus' followers that includes people from every background, every nation, every language, and every culture. And this is the moment when the old hardened racial and cultural prejudices he didn't even realize he was still carrying finally crack and begin to fall away for him.  

How did he get there? Well, the short version is that God had sent him to go to the house of a Roman centurion named Cornelius and to tell him about Jesus. Cornelius, obviously, was a gentile (non-Jewish), and as a solider in the army of the occupying empire, it would have been easy (and not incorrect) to see him as an "enemy." He was from the "Italian cohort" of soldiers, which strongly implies he was from far away back in Europe, rather than a local Judean native who somehow enlisted in the Roman army.  He would have grown up worshiping the gods of the Roman pantheon, speaking Latin, and immersed in the cultural practices of the Empire.  There were LOTS of ways it would have been obvious that Cornelius and his family were "not our kind of people" from Peter's perspective.  And so when God finally persuades Peter to go (and teaches him along the way that "you don't get to call UNCLEAN what God has called CLEAN"), and Cornelius hears the message about Jesus, he and his whole family want to be baptized on the spot. They come to faith in Jesus, they receive the Holy Spirit, and they commit to following the way of Jesus, too!

And that's when it dawns on Peter: this is what God had in mind all along!  This was in fact God's doing, and God had let Peter to bring the message in the first place to Cornelius and his family--even when Peter felt like he was being dragged kicking and screaming to Cornelius' house at first! Peter realizes that God intends to draw all people, from everywhere, including every background, language, ethnicity, culture, and place, into the community of Jesus.  That had seemed scandalous to him earlier in his faith journey; Peter had grown up assuming that pretty much God only cared about his group--people from the ethnic group descended from the tribes of ancient Israel.  For certain, a young Peter would have believed that God cared about his group FIRST, at least, and that only after his own group's interests were covered would God give any care for other people.   But now, Peter realizes that God doesn't show partiality to any group of people or love one nationality more than another. There is no language God requires we speak, no country on the map which is exceptional in God's eyes, and no barrier keeping out "the wrong kind of people" from following Jesus and belonging in God's Reign. Peter realized that when Cornelius came to faith, and apparently we keep needing to re-learn it twenty centuries later.  All of us, it turns out, are "God's kind of people."

As we keep exploring this season what it means to be called by Christ, it's worth remembering that we are called alongside a LOT of other people, and all of us are different.  For me to recognize that you are also called by Christ doesn't take anything away from me or lessen my calling.  And the fact that God has called people from halfway around the world, whose language I do not speak, whose culture is different from my own, and whose stories are divergent from my experience, doesn't threaten my identity as someone called by God, either. Sometimes we who have been around the church for a while start to think of ourselves as Peter, as though we are experts who have been self-deputized to decide who is "in" and who is "out" on God's behalf.  But we are very much Cornelius, too--that is, we are people who were outsiders and strangers, who have been welcomed in by God, despite our many kinds of difference. And if God has drawn us into the love of Christ, regardless of where we have come from or what our story is, then God surely reserves the right to draw in anybody and everybody else, too, no matter where they are from or who they are.

That realization changed Peter. It will change us, too.

Lord God, help us to welcome all whom you are calling to yourself, and help us to rejoice that your welcome includes us, too. Enable us to see that we are all your kind of people.

Called with Purpose--January 15, 2026

Called with Purpose--January 15, 2026

 "Thus says God, the LORD,
  who created the heavens and stretched them out,
  who spread out the earth and what comes from it,
  who gives breath to the people upon it
  and spirit to those who walk in it:
 I am the LORD; I have called you in righteousness;
  I have taken you by the hand and kept you;
 I have given you as a covenant to the people,
  a light to the nations,
   to open the eyes that are blind,
 to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon,
  from the prison those who sit in darkness." (Isaiah 42:5-7)

Pretty much in the Bible, being called is never an end in and of itself. When God calls you, it is always for the purpose not only of drawing you in, but of reaching out to others through you.  When God chooses you, it is not only to make you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside, but also to work in and through you for the sake of others.  There is no version of being called by God that ends with just getting to call ourselves "exceptional" or "special" so we can pat ourselves on the back; when God calls us, it is with the intention that we serve in God's work to welcome, to illuminate, to heal, and to set people free.

This passage from Isaiah 42, which many of us heard this past Sunday, is a case in point.  It is an excerpt from sections of the book that are sometimes called the "Servant Songs," in which the prophet speaks of a figure who is God's Servant, who has been chosen by God for God's set purposes in the world.  Sometimes, these poems sound like they are talking about a single individual person--and we Christians have come to recognize that they sure do sound a lot like Jesus.  At other times, these Servant Songs seem to be speaking to the whole community of God's people who had lived through exile and were wondering, "What's next?  Does God have any use for us anymore?" And sometimes, in a way that only poetry can accomplish really well, it seems like these passages are simultaneously about a group of people who are called by God and a single individual person yet to come (again, we Christians will point to Jesus there).

In a sense, for our purposes, it doesn't exactly matter, because both realities are true.  Jesus is, to be sure, chosen and called by God to be the Suffering Servant of God who brings about justice and righteousness and restores life where it is needed through his gentleness and nonviolent love.  (We explored that theme in yesterday's devotion, too, you might remember.)  And it is also true that God's people, both in the ancient covenant people of Israel through the exile and into the community of Jesus' followers now, are also called for a purpose to embody the ways and character of God.  The bottom line is that either way, when we are called by God, it is always with a sense of direction, of purpose beyond ourselves, and of serving other people as our way of serving God.  Being called by God always carries with it a mission.

As the prophet describes it here, that purpose has to do with helping other people to flourish.  It is bringing light to the nations of the world--to embody the ways of the covenant-making God so that others will want to live in the same justice and mercy they have seen in us.  It is opening the eyes of those who cannot see--or refuse to see--what is in front of them.  It is helping to release people who have been wrongfully detained, unjustly imprisoned, and taken captive.  All of that is at least a part of God's agenda in the world, and being called by God means being called to share in that agenda, too.

All of this is to say that if we as Christians see ourselves as people who have been "chosen" and "called" by God (and that much is true), it is not so we can puff ourselves up or kick our feet back.  It is so that we can be a part of God's work in the world. If it is right to say that we have been "called" (and it is), then this is at least part of what we have been called to: offering light and welcome to "the nations" (those who are not "like us"), truth-telling vision for eyes that can't or won't yet see, and striving to release people who are held captive and should be free.  That's the work into which God invites us.

If we are faithful to our calling, then, the world should not be dimmer, more willfully unseeing, or more inhospitable to outsiders, as a result of our presence in it. There should be fewer people held captive because of us, not more. There should be more light in the world, not less. The calling always includes a mission, and Isaiah tells us that's what the mission looks like.

Today, then, the right question to ask is not, "Am I called by God?" but rather, "What does God's calling to me look like in my time and place?" You are called.  You have been chosen. Those are the starting point of grace as followers of Jesus, and they are not up for debate. But knowing that God's call--whether we are talking about the call to Jesus the unique Son of God, to the exiles of Israel witnessing in Babylon, or to us in this present moment--is always into a mission, the open question is how we act in light of that call. Will we add more light to the world or less?  Will we help neighbors around to see even uncomfortable truths we might all wish to ignore? Will we spend our energy setting people free or allow them to be taken captive and disappear into dungeons? The calling is already given--the question is how we live into it... today.

Lord God, we dare to believe that you have called and chosen us already for your purposes in the world. Open our eyes to see what you intend us to do with this day for the sake of the people to whom you have called us.

Without Stepping On People--January 14, 2026

Without Stepping On People--January 14, 2026

"Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations. He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will bring forth justice." (Isaiah 42:1-3)

Did you ever see a kid step on a bug just because he could?

Have you ever been the one who yanked a flower out of the soil where it was struggling to blossom, or snapped a limb off of a tree for no other reason than that it was there?

I suspect if each of us is honest, we've been there before. We've seen it, and we've been the ones breaking things, squishing things, or even killing things, just because we can. Not because they were in our way or harming us, not because they posed a threat to us or anybody else, and not even because of fear--but because we had the power and whatever happened to be in our target sights had no power to stop us. 

And, not to be too hard on ourselves, realizing that we have power over some things in our world is probably one of those steps in our mental development as human beings. You learn that you have the ability to affect your environment, and sometimes little children figure that out by breaking or stomping on things in that environment. You just hope that before long, each of us learns to outgrow that kind of gratuitous destruction.

But to be honest, I'm not sure that we always really do arrive at the realization that gentleness is a mark of maturity--not raw power. The ability to crush, break, or step on things isn't really a sign of greatness, but we don't always realize that. We still do fall for the childish thinking that raw power is a mark of strength, rather than the ability to temper and harness power in ways that nurture life rather than destroying it. One of the sad lessons of history is how often crowds rally in support of the strongman, the authoritarian, the dictator, and the bully, all because they fool the people into confusing recklessness with strength, and gentleness with weakness.  The conventional wisdom of the day even now is that here in "the real world" things get done "by strength," "by force," and "by power," and that you have to push people around to get your way. We still hear it from podiums and talking heads on television all the time to justify all sorts of things.

God, of course, is not fooled by those demagogues, and never has been. We sometimes forget this, too, and think that whoever has the most sheer raw power at any given moment must have God's endorsement [although I'll bet Goliath, Pharaoh, and Nebuchadnezzar would all eventually have admitted as much]. If we've been actually listening to the voices in the Scriptures, though, we'll hear that God has always chosen to work in gentleness and kindness rather than domination and cruelty. In fact, the prophets were convinced that such compassionate love would be the telltale sign of the Messiah.

I love the way this passage from Isaiah 42, which many of us heard this past Sunday, puts it. In speaking of God's chosen "servant," (whom we have come to recognize as Jesus!) the prophet says, "a bruised reed he will not break," and "a dimly burning wick he will not quench," and yet he will bring about justice for all peoples. God's chosen one--whom we often name "the Messiah" or "the Christ"--doesn't resort to sheer displays of domination or cruelty in order to get things done. He isn't even the sort of person to snap a bent stalk off of a plant or snuff out a weak flame. He wouldn't even step on a bug "just because he can." He doesn't need to shout obnoxiously or rile people up to get their attention. He doesn't need to threaten or intimidate, and he doesn't destroy things or harm people simply to make an example of them. And he doesn't need to pick on someone smaller to make everybody else in the schoolyard afraid.  That is simply not the way of God's Chosen One.

Those kinds of tactics, however, are exactly how empires operate--from Pharaoh insisting on the enslaved Hebrews making more and more bricks without straw, to Rome crucifying whomever it saw as a potential troublemaker, just to set an example of what they could do to you, to every empire and superpower since. Bullies flex their imperial muscle like that because they think it makes them look strong... when in actuality it makes them look childish. God's Chosen One knows that and doesn't have to resort to saber-rattling, angry yelling, or shows of brute force to do God's work.

We are constantly reminded of the brutish--and childish--things people are willing to do if they think it will make them look great or put them on top. Each day's news keeps giving us disappointingly fresh examples of that tired way of doing things. But the prophet points us to Someone who doesn't snuff out fragile flames or break what is bruised. The Servant of God--Jesus--offers us an alternative to the dangerous (but childish) bullying we are so used to settling for. Today, it is worth asking, "Where have I allowed myself to think it was OK to step on someone else to get ahead? Where have I let myself believe that sometimes you have to step on people and intimidate others in order to get your way? Where have I let the voices around me persuade me into believing that gentleness is weakness, or that domination is strength?" And maybe we might find the way of Jesus, God's chosen one, to be just the antidote we didn't know we needed.

Perhaps we'll recognize that our whole lives are made possible because the Almighty God doesn't just step on beings that are smaller [or troublesome] just because God "can."

This is just the sort of thing that will happen to us as we hear ourselves called by Christ to follow in the same way of life as Jesus.  We will also become gentle like Jesus. We, too, will set aside childish bullying tactics or angry threats, because we are called to become like him.

O Gentle One, where we are bruised and dim breath life and strength into us again, so that we may grow and shine... and walk in the ways of your Chosen One, Jesus.

God's Beloved, Too--January 13, 2026

God's Beloved, Too--January 13, 2026

"And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw God’s Spirit descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from the heavens said, 'This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased'.” (Matthew 3:16-17)

Our older brother in the faith, Martin Luther, called it "the happy exchange." 

It's the notion, grounded in the New Testament, that whatever belongs to Christ is given to us because we have been joined to Christ... and whatever was ours belongs to Christ as well.  The reason he called it a "happy" exchange is that it turns out to be completely lopsided in our favor.  We gain Christ's righteousness, abundant life, and identity as God's beloved children, and Christ gets... our sin, our fragility, and our death. Talk about a good deal, right?

The whole concept boggles the mind and begs the question: Why would Jesus be willing to do such a thing?  Well, love, obviously.  The same way when two people get married and one of them still has college loans to pay off, the debt is assumed by both and taken on together, or the same way a new baby in the family is given the same home, name, and family belonging as the parents who have brought the child home from the hospital.  Jesus is willing to take all of our baggage and give us all of his freedom because he loves us. It seems like utter nonsense from the perspective of self-interested logic, but it makes perfect sense from the vantage point of self-giving love.

And at least part of what that great exchange means is that Jesus' standing as God's Son, and as God's "Beloved," is conferred on us as well.  It happens, at least at some level, because of what transpires at the waters here.  As we saw yesterday, when we first looked at this passage that many of us heard this past Sunday, when Jesus went to be baptized by John in the Jordan River, at least part of what he is doing is standing in solidarity with a world full of sinners.  In effect, Jesus is saying, "Count me with them.  I am one of them.  They are mine, and I am theirs" as he gets in line with all the others who have come to John as a public sign of repenting of their sins--even though Jesus is the one person in all of human history who has no sins to repent of.  And on the other side of that equation, the apostle Paul wrote to the Romans that "all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death... so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we also might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his" (Rom. 6:3-5).

You can hear that "happy exchange" idea in there, can't you?  Because we are joined to Christ in our baptism, we are connected both to his death and resurrection.  All of our sin has been taken into Christ, and all of his righteousness has been given to us.  All of our mortality is taken with Jesus to the cross, and all of his resurrection life is shared with us.

So when the voice from heaven calls out, while Jesus comes up out of the water from being baptized, saying, "This is my Son, the Beloved," this isn't just good news for Jesus--it is good news for us, too.  It is not only Christ who is declared to be God's own Son, but we who are named as sons and daughters as well. This isn't just a story about Jesus being claimed by God--but about us being claimed as well, because we are joined to Christ.

That's what we mean by saying we are a part of the "found family" of God.  We don't belong because we share DNA with Jesus, per se, but because he has claimed us.  Our status in the family of God doesn't depend on our accomplishments, achievements, or performed piety, but because of Jesus standing with us and calling us his own.  The whole good news of the Gospel hangs on the reality of God choosing to include us regardless of how far out, far away, and estranged we have been.  We belong because God says we do--and that's enough.  What is true for Jesus is true for us as well, and since Jesus is God's beloved child, so are we.

Whatever else happens in this day, this year, or this life, that identity cannot be undone or taken away. You are not an employee on God's "staff," carrying the risk of being let go if they need to downsize or you don't perform well next quarter.  You are a child of God, whose identity is irrevocable and whose belonging is grounded in God's claim--because of Jesus.

Yeah, sounds like a pretty happy exchange to me, too.

Lord Jesus, assure us today of who we are because of who you are.

Strange Righteousness--January 12, 2026

Strange Righteousness--January 12, 2026

"Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, 'I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?' But Jesus answered him, 'Let it be so now, for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness." (Matthew 3:13-15)

Whatever it means to be righteous, it doesn't include looking down your nose at other people. At least not for Jesus.  For him, "righteousness" isn't about being "above" somebody else or treating another person as "less-than." And it doesn't involve intimidating, threatening, or zapping some group or person you have labeled "unrighteous."

We need to start here today, I think, because so often in our day the word "righteous" itself comes with the unavoidable baggage of the term "self-righteous," and it conjures up all the times we've seen people look down on others from their own holier-than-thou perch.  All too often, the word "righteous" gets invoked by arrogant zealots who have deputized themselves to condemn anybody they think doesn't measure up, or folks who won't associate with the sinners, mess-ups, and failures because of some presumed need to keep their holiness untainted. And if that's what "righteousness" means, well, it sure doesn't make sense then that Jesus would show up in line like this to be baptized by John for the sake of "righteousness."

That's because going out to be baptized by John in the Jordan wasn't a proud sign of your holiness and moral perfection--it was a statement of your need to repent and turn around in a new direction!  The folks who went out to John the Baptizer came, as the gospels remind us, "confessing their sins," and used this moment as a turning point in their lives to reject all the rotten stuff, sins, and guilt of their past.  It had the feel very much of going to your first AA or other Twelve-Step program meeting--you went forward, basically to admit that you were a mess-up, had gotten in over your head, and couldn't manage in the old patterns anymore.  For the folks there on the banks of the Jordan River, being baptized wasn't a way to show folks how "righteous" you were--it was an admission of how "unrighteous" you were, in the hopes that such radical honesty would let you turn a new way.

And all of that leads to the conundrum about Jesus being there.  Why would Jesus come to be baptized as a show of repentance? Isn't he supposed to be the sinless Lamb of God?  Isn't he the one person whose Permanent Record doesn't need to be wiped clean? And why would going there to be baptized by John somehow "fulfill all righteousness"? We are so used to assuming that being "righteous" involves condemning or criticizing all the unrighteous people that we might expect a holy messiah to scold or smite these sinners at the shore, not to stand in solidarity with them.

But that's just it: Jesus redefines "righteousness" for us to show us that it was never about zapping rule-breakers or condemning people for not measuring up. Jesus' strange kind of righteousness comes and meets us where we are and stands with us--as one of us.  When Jesus goes to be baptized by John, it is a public statement that says, "Count me with all of them.  I'll stand in their place.  I haven't come to send people to hell--I've come to bring them to life."  For Jesus, "righteousness" is solidarity with a world full of unrighteous people.  

This takes the scandal of the gospel to a whole new level.  We have just finished the season of Christmas, of course, and its mind-blowing claim that God took on flesh in Jesus.  That by itself is staggering.  But now at the river Jordan in line with a whole crowd of people who are confessing that they are sinners looking for a new start, Jesus' presence is like saying that same holy God is willing to be associated with unholy and sinful wretches.  In Jesus, God identifies with us all, and not only us at our best moments of good behavior, but precisely when we are face to face with our sins.  Whatever it means for Jesus to be "righteous," then, it is not about condemning sinners, but actually taking their side--our side.  Whatever it means for God to be holy, it can't be that God is unwilling to be associated with the likes of us--because in Jesus, there is God standing in line with a bunch of sinners all seeking a new beginning at the water.

If that's true (and Matthew sure seems to believe it is), then our presence in the world isn't meant to be a condemning or condescending one. Rather, we are called to be, like Jesus, people who stand with others in love.  We are called, like Jesus, to be on the "side" of folks who are facing their baggage and their demons and starting over.  And because we know that Jesus' "righteousness" doesn't involve him zapping sinners but coming along beside them, maybe we can be honest and admit our own sins rather than covering up our worst selves because we are afraid of being found out.  Jesus' presence there at the waters makes it possible for us to be brave enough to tell the truth about ourselves rather than point the finger at somebody else in order to take the focus off of our own failures.

Whatever it means to be righteous, it doesn't mean that Jesus is our enemy or adversary looking to condemn us.  Jesus' kind of righteousness takes our side--the whole human family--and says, "Count me with them."

That is absolutely good news.

Lord Jesus, help us to see you, not looking down on us in condemnation, but at our side in solidarity.

An Alternative Way--January 9, 2026

 An Alternative Way--January 9, 2026

"And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road." (Matthew 2:12)

Yes, the Magi go home--but they go home differently. These would-be wizards and sky-watching gurus who appear out of nowhere, following a light in the sky to find the true king of the Jews, they do return back to where they started, but you get the sense that they will never quite be the same again.  Not to steal from the well-known musical Wicked or its recent two-part cinematic adaptation, but they "have been changed... for good."

We can't say, of course, exactly how they have been affected by this journey--although, I suppose like anyone who makes a religious or spiritual pilgrimage, maybe the Magi themselves can't quite put their finger on how they have been changed by the experience. But they still know that they have been. I think of how T.S. Eliot imagines their contemplation and remembrance in his poem, "The Journey of the Magi." He voices one of these wise men saying they "returned to our places, these Kingdoms/ But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation/ With an alien people clutching their gods." Everything about their old lives has faded in comparison to being in the presence of the Christ-child, even if they struggle to put that difference into words.  I think something like that must have been the case for Matthew's Magi.

But even without that kind of faithful imagination and scriptural speculation, I think Matthew has given us evidence of at least one other important change that comes from this encounter with Christ.  He mentions that after the Magi find the Christ-child, having been drawn by their belief that stars and astrological phenomena could tell them about truths in the world, they no longer need the star--or at least, it doesn't seem to be their navigator any longer.  Now, an angel visits them in a dream (the same way Matthew tells us that God had communicated with Joseph when he was about to break up with a pregnant Mary!), and they learn that they are not supposed to go back down the route that leads them back to Herod. The Magi are to go home "by another road" and not to play into Herod's schemes any longer. Perhaps they had been fooled before by his ploy, but now they can admit it and refuse to be bamboozled any longer. They know that they must choose a different way--there must be an alternative to Herod.

At this point in the story, that is quite literally "different way," that is, "another road" to get them back to their homes in "the east" without taking them through Jerusalem and back into the clutches of Herod and his political machine.  But in a sense, Matthew is preparing us for a major theme that will come back throughout the story and message of Jesus in his Gospel: a choice of which "way," which route, which path, we will take in life.  Jesus himself will describe later a choice of two "ways"--the wide one which terminates in a dead-end, or the narrow way that goes in his footsteps. He will also continue to contrast his own sort of "kingdom" and way of life with the world's sorts of "kingdoms." The world's way of operating--whether typified by Herod or Caesar or "the rulers of the gentiles"--is always one of domination, conquest, and violence. And Jesus' way of operating--which he unapologetically claims is also God's way of operating--is the opposite. There is no invading, no conquering, and no killing in Jesus' way; his path is quite literally an alternative way, and a different road from the one that leads to Herod.

Now to be sure, the Magi don't know yet all of Jesus' teaching, and they cannot yet have gotten a preview of the Sermon on the Mount with its call to enemy-love and self-giving.  But at least they must have witnessed the stark contrast between an insecure bully of a ruler holding court in a palace decked out in gold on the one hand, and a vulnerable toddler with his mother in a modest peasant dwelling in a two-bit town like Bethlehem (remembered, at least in part, for its smallness in the prophets).  And when the angel makes it clear to them not to return to Herod, perhaps at least that much came into focus: they could choose one or the other--Herod, or the child--but not both.  The way of Jesus always runs counter to the way of Herod, the same way that the choice to bear being crucified meant refusing to be the one crucifying his enemies. If we are going to seek after the same Christ whom the Magi found, we will also be called to walk the alternative way of Jesus. There is no going back.

Like I say, we don't really what became of the Magi after they saw the Christ-child and made their way home by "another road." They were changed, we can presume, but we dare not assume it was an easy life or that they could pick right up with their comfortable old routines once they arrived back home.  The same can be said for us if we are followers of Jesus who walk his alternative way.  We will be changed, certainly.  It will not always be easy, for sure.  And we will often feel the pull to go back into the old violent ways of the new Herods and Caesars, or at least to keep our heads down and not call them out. But the witness of the Magi sure seems to be that it is worth it to direct our lives down that other road, the one that does not lead back to Herod and his insecure outrage.

Like the poet says, when we take that road less traveled--the way of Jesus--it really does make all the difference.

Lord Jesus, lead us on your way, even when it runs counter to the prevailing order of the day.

A Revealing of Allegiances--January 8, 2026

A Revealing of Allegiances--January 8, 2026

"On entering the house, [the Magi] saw the child with Mary his mother, and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh." (Matthew 2:11)

How does Jesus say it later on in the story? "Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." Whomever or whatever you give your most valuable and precious things to, that will be an indication of where your heart is aimed. Whether we're talking in dollars, minutes, emotions, or effort, where we direct those things will tell you what (or who) matters most to you.

You might even say that where you direct your treasures is a sign of where you have given your allegiance. If you support your local school district, chances are that you'll be willing to support the tax levy when the school board recommends it and puts it on the ballot.  Or conversely, I remember learning somewhere back in school about Henry David Thoreau being jailed for refusing to pay his poll tax as a protest against the unjust Mexican-American War and against slavery.  Your convictions will direct the choices you make with your treasures, and your willingness to give away the things you value will reveal the causes and people that matter most to you.

So what does any of this have to do with the story we've been exploring this week with the Magi visiting the Christ-child? Well, I want to suggest that Matthew our storyteller is giving us a glimpse of this revealing of allegiances in the response of the Magi. Upon finally finding the long-sought-after Child in Bethlehem, they open up their treasure chests and proceed to offer up gifts of great value (in addition to whatever symbolic significance one might glean from the items listed: gold, frankincense, and myrrh).  Presumably they have had all of these treasures with them on their whole journey--there's no indication they stopped at a market or shopping mall between Jerusalem and Bethlehem after leaving Herod's palace.  And presumably, too, that means they had these treasures even when they first went to the palace in Jerusalem, originally seeking the newly born "king of the Jews." When the Magi find out that there is no child to be found in the city, and instead the current claimant of that title, Herod, meets them, it is worth noting that the Magi don't offer up their treasures to him instead. There's no, "Oh, sorry--we must have been mistaken and misread the stars; I guess these presents are for you instead."  

No, rather, the Magi meet Herod, who calls himself "King of the Jews" even though he is merely the puppet ruler that the Romans have placed on the throne provided that he doesn't step out of line, but they do not give their treasures to him at all. There is no "paying homage" (the same word you would use for "worshiping" in Greek, too) toward Herod, either. The Magi hold back what is most valuable for the one they have truly come to find; only when they meet the toddling Christ-child still clinging to his mother's side do they offer up these precious things. Christ alone is worthy of their allegiance, and therefore of their treasures.  They can spot a phony, it would seem, and they know not to give him the gifts they have brought for the true king.

Even though the Magi will soon disappear from the story, never to be heard from again in the Gospel, I think Matthew trusts that his point is made.  To give our allegiance to the God revealed in Jesus Christ will mean a refusal to give it to the Herods around us. For the Magi, that means their long-held treasures will not be handed over to the pretender-king, but reserved for the child once they find him. For us, it will mean that our time, our resources, and our energy are not to be offered up in Herod's service, but for Christ's. And Christ, of course, ends up directing our lives and serving outward to the people around us.  This same Christ-child will later grow up to be the one who tells us that when we have fed the hungry, clothed the naked, welcomed the foreigner, and visited the sick, we have done it for him.  To offer our time, treasure, and talent for the sake of the vulnerable, the adult Jesus will tell us, is the way we do what the Magi accomplish with their gold, frankincense, and myrrh. But we are never to give over to Herod what should go to Christ.

We may well be putting away our Christmas decorations by now and boxing up our figurines of the wise men along with the ceramic sheep and angels, but the power of this story persists.  Every day we have to choose to whom we give our allegiance--and therefore, to whom we offer what we value most.  Who and what gets our time? Our energy and passion? Our money and goodwill? And where, like the Magi, might we be led to hold back our treasures from the counterfeit causes who are not really worthy of what we deem precious, until we are brought face to face with Christ? And might we hear the words of the adult Christ to us as well, reminding us that if we want to care for him or pay him homage, we will care for those who are most vulnerable among us right now?

If you look for Jesus in the manger, he won't be there. Even the Magi eventually find the Christ-child in a house by the time they get to Bethlehem.  We aren't sent to find Jesus frozen in a moment of the past, but to recognize him in the faces of those with whom he identifies right now--and to give for their sake the things we hold as treasures.

Lord Jesus, help us to see your presence among us and to give all that we have to honor you and worship you by caring for those in whom you are present.