1:1 The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham. 2 Abraham was the father of Isaac, and Isaac the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers, 3 and Judah the father of Perez and Zerah by Tamar, and Perez the father of Hezron, and Hezron the father of Ram, 4 and Ram the father of Amminadab, and Amminadab the father of Nahshon, and Nahshon the father of Salmon, 5 and Salmon the father of Boaz by Rahab, and Boaz the father of Obed by Ruth, and Obed the father of Jesse, 6 and Jesse the father of David the king. And David was the father of Solomon by the wife of Uriah…. 16 …and Jacob the father of Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born, who is called Christ. [1]
Matthew 1:1-6, 16
Merry Christmas, Sojourners!
This is one of my favorite times of the year. The weather is crisp and cool (or cold, depending on the Mississippi weather). Lights and decorations abound. There’s more than enough to do – following our kiddos around, gathering for extra worship times, a few opportunities to pause and reflect on a year spent, and finding that people are more willing to listen or even talk about Jesus than in other seasons.
Over the past few years at Christ Community, I’ve begun to think of this more in terms of Advent than just the Christmas season – not out of some sense of religious tradition or necessity but out of a sense of expectation and hope. The word Advent comes from the Latin word adventus, meaning “coming” or “arrival”. It, of course, represents Jesus’s first coming (hence the Christmas aspect) and His arrival as God made flesh and dwelling among us (John 1:1, 14), but it also reminds us that He is coming again and that arrival in the clouds is on the horizon (1 Thessalonians 4:16-17), maybe even in our lifetime. Advent trains our hearts to wait with hope (Romans 8:23-25, Titus 2:11-13).
Now, this isn’t the sort of hope that we’re used to – some sort of vague wish that we want to come about. That sort of hope leads to disappointment and anxiety. For example, I hear my school kiddos say things like, “I hope I do good on this test.” While there’s a certain anxiety that all too often accompanies the tests, the hope can be more sure than wishful thinking. I remind my students in those moments of all they’ve studied and all they’ve learned. My class is the culmination of all of the English classes they have taken since third grade. Getting to my class means they’ve successfully made it from third grade all the way to ninth or tenth grade. Most of my tenth grade students had me for ninth, so I can remind them also of what they’ve learned, studied, and succeeded at in order to get to the end of the class. Their anxiety flowed from feelings of inadequacy and felt thin because it had nothing solid beneath it.
Biblical hope is different. It isn’t rooted in our effort, our performance, or our feelings. It has substance. It is established on something solid – the promises of God (2 Corinthians 1:20).
The hope Jesus offers – the hope we are reminded of through Advent leading up to Christmas – is based in a more substantial substance than our mere life experience and accomplishments; it’s based out of Jesus’s life and His accomplishments on the cross and through the empty tomb. We can “hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering” because “He who promised is faithful” (Hebrews 10:23). He has a flawless record of keeping His promises – promises no human could make and see fulfilled much less fulfill them alone (see “Appendix: OT Messianic Prophecies Fulfilled Through JESUS in the Gospels”). And we can find hope in His faithfulness because He is the One who promised to come and did (Galatians 4:4-5), so when He promises to return, we can rest in the hope that He will (Revelation 22:12, 20).
Hopefully you took the time to look at the OT Messianic Prophecies Fulfilled Through JESUS in the Gospels appendix, taking a look at the fifty-five examples offered there. Today, though, we’re going to find hope not only in prophecy but in how God worked in the real, messy lives of real, sinful people. We will see that He who promised to redeem and save those who call on Him – confess Him as Lord and believe He raised from the dead (Romans 10:9, 13) – is faithful to do that. Their stories show that the God who speaks His promises is the God who brings those promises to fruition through ordinary sinners like us (1 Corinthians 1:26-31).
So, where do we find these people? We find them – these four women – in Jesus’s genealogy in Matthew 1.
Before we look at any of their stories, it’s worth noting something remarkable: women weren’t usually included in genealogies in the ancient world. Genealogies traced the line through the fathers, generation to generation, name to name. Yet Matthew, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, intentionally highlights four women – and not women we might expect. Their stories are messy. Their pasts are complicated. Their situations were soaked in sin, sorrow, scandal, and suffering. And still the Holy Spirit saw fit to weave their names into the family line of Jesus. Why? Because the gospel isn’t a story for the polished but for the broken (Mark 2:17). Their presence in Jesus’s genealogy serves as the Spirit’s way of holding up the gift of hope – hope that God’s grace reaches further than our failures, hope that His mercy is deeper than our mess, and hope that the promised King truly came to save sinners (1 Timothy 1:15).
These women point us forward to the One who would come from their line – Jesus the Christ, Emmanuel, “God with us” (Matthew 1:23) – the Savior who brings hope to people just like them…and just like us.
Tamar – Hope in God’s Faithfulness Despite Human Sin (v. 3, Genesis 38)
The first woman is Tamar (v. 3), and her story is found in Genesis 38.
Tamar was Judah’s – as in lion of the tribe of Judah (Genesis 49:8-10), the original – daughter-in-law. She was originally married to Judah’s oldest son Er until “the Lord put him to death” because Er was “wicked in the sight of the Lord” (Genesis 38:7). In those days[2], when the elder son died, it was the role of his younger brother to take his place and father children in his name. This fell to second-born, Onan, but Onan was more sinful and selfish than his big brother, doing what was “wicked in the sight of the Lord” and being “put…to death, also” (Genesis 38:10).
Poor Tamar. Her only hope at bearing children would fall on Judah’s youngest, and last remaining son, Shelah. But Judah lied and had no intention of taking care of or continuing with Tamar. What did she do? She decided to be wicked herself. She tricked Judah and tempted him. How did he respond? He decided to be wicked himself. Judah and Tamar committed sin together, her posing as a prostitute and him partaking in sin with her – honestly sinning against her similarly to his late-son Onan.
Scripture doesn’t hide this, and because of that, we begin to see hope shining through the darkness.
Paul reminds us that “where sin increased, grace abounded all the more” (Romans 5:20), and Tamar’s story is living proof of that. Despite Judah’s sin, despite Tamar’s sin, despite a situation that looked like a generational dead end, God preserved the family line through which the Messiah would come (Genesis 38:27-30). And when faced with evidence of his sin, Judah himself would later confess that Tamar was “more righteous” than him (Genesis 38:26), not because she was righteous in herself, but because God used a broken situation to move His promise and purpose forward.
Tamar’s presence in Jesus’s genealogy shows us that the promised King comes through broken, sinful people to give hope to broken, sinful people.
Rahab – Hope for Outsiders, Sinners, and the Unlikely (v. 5; Joshua 2, 6:17, 22-25)
Rahab wasn’t an Israelite, so she wasn’t one of God’s chosen people ethnically, and before the Hebrew spies came to her house in Jericho, she was known for her sinful profession as a prostitute, except unlike Tamar, she was not merely posing as one. Yet she exhibited faith in the God of Israel because she had heard of the mighty work He had done with and for His people (Joshua 2:9-11). She chose to side with God’s people rather than her own and hid the Hebrews spies to keep them safe.
And this is what Scripture emphasizes – not the sinfulness of her past but the sincerity of her faith. We see in the book of Hebrews that “by faith Rahab the prostitute did not perish” (Hebrews 11:31), and James says her works proved her faith (James 2:25). Despite her people[3], her background, and her own history, God rescued her by letting her put a scarlet cord in her window to mark her safe when Jericho fell under His judgment (Joshua 2:18-21).
Why a scarlet cord? Some scholarly preacher folks see in it the foreshadowing of the blood of Jesus – God marking the saved safe through a covering only He can provide. For Rahab, it just represented the promise of the mighty God she had begun serving.
What about the fact that she was a prostitute? Why would someone like her be included in Jesus’s official lineage – in the Bible no less? Because Jesus came to save sinners, outsiders, and the unlikeliest of folks – people like Rahab, people like me and you (Luke 5:31-32). Her inclusion in Jesus’s family tree declares that the hope of the promised King is for all nations and all sinners who take refuge in Him (Psalm 2:12).
Ruth – Hope for the Hopeless and the Gentile (v. 5; the book of Ruth)
The third woman is actually related to Rahab by marriage as she ended up marrying Rahab’s son Boaz. Her name is Ruth (v. 5), and her story is told in the book of the Bible bearing her name.
Like her mother-in-law, Ruth wasn’t one of God’s chosen people. She was from the land of Moab (a people group started out of a sinful union and messy situation way back in Genesis 19:30-37). Her husband Mahlon came to Moab with his family while trying to escape the Lord’s judgment through a famine, seeking help and relief from their own strength and ingenuity rather than from the Lord (Ruth 1:1-2).
While they were in Moab, her father-in-law, husband, and brother-in-law all died. She could have gone back to her father’s house and been right and righteous in doing so, but she decided to accompany her mother-in-law Naomi back to Israel (Ruth 1:16-17). God blessed that decision and relationship and took care of Ruth and Naomi. Part of the way God took care of them was through Rahab’s son Boaz, first providing food and grain for them and ultimately through him taking on the role of kinsman-redeemer[4], marrying Ruth.
This is the beauty of Ruth’s story because providing a redeemer for them was more than just a husband; being called a kinsman-redeemer (Ruth 2:20, 3:9, 4:14-15) is a picture pointing forward to Jesus Himself. Ruth, the foreigner and outsider, the one with no earthly hope, found refuge “under the wings of the Lord” (Ruth 2:12). Her story that began with such sorrow and grief had a happy ending, especially considering Ruth would be King David’s great-grandmother (Ruth 4:17), but doesn’t Jesus deserve a more presentable bloodline?
No, God delighted in bringing hope out of hopelessness and writing His redemption story through those the world would overlook so that those who are overlooked could find hope in Him (1 Corinthians 1:27-29). Ruth’s inclusion in Jesus’s lineage shows that the Messiah is the Redeemer of all who take refuge in Him.
“The Wife of Uriah” – Hope through God’s Mercy to the Deeply Fallen (v. 6, 2 Samuel 11-12)
The fourth woman isn’t even listed in the genealogy by her name, but how she is listed tells the sadness and sin surrounding her: “And David was the father of Solomon by the wife of Uriah” (v. 6). This is not a slight to her but recognition of King David’s sin with her. Yes, David, the king who is most often heralded as a hero and worshiper of the Lord is also a sinner.
The man who slew Goliath and wrote a big chunk of the Bible’s songbook committed particularly heinous sins: murder and adultery (2 Samuel 11:1-5). David stayed behind when he was supposed to be with his troops and gazed upon the “wife of Uriah” from his roof as she took a bath. He, even though he was married to multiple women already and she was married to one of his mighty men, decided that he wanted to make her his. The resulting union led to a child between them. Rather than owning up and confessing his sin – to the Lord, to his wives, to Uriah, to Israel, David undertook a massive cover-up that ended in his arranging Uriah’s murder (2 Samuel 11:14-17). He stole this man’s wife. He took his life.
It looks good to have a giant-killing worshiper of the Lord in your lineage, but why associate Jesus instead with David’s sin and wickedness (and the same or worse from many of the kings listed after him in the family tree)? Because this gets to the very heart of the gospel.
Bathsheba’s story contains much sin and sorrow, but it doesn’t end that way. God confronted David through the prophet Nathan (2 Samuel 12:1-3). Their baby died (2 Samuel 12:15-18). David repented (Psalm 51). And God, in astonishing mercy, allowed David and Bathsheba to become the parents of another child, Solomon – the next link in the chain leading to Christ (2 Samuel 12:24-25).
Where sin is great, God’s grace is greater still (Romans 5:20). Bathsheba – the wife of Uriah – being included in this genealogy reminds us that the promised King didn’t come to hide human sin but to seek and save sinners (Luke 19:10).
Wrapping Up
Each section walking us through these women’s stories included rhetorical questions meant to make us meditate on what God was doing in and through them: why include these women and take honest looks at their stories?
In short, there really are answers to those questions. Why would the Bible recognize and record those sins and sinners in Jesus’s lineage? Why would the Holy Spirit shine a spotlight on the stories of Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba? Because they all really happened. Sin happens. Every one of them was a real person with a real story marked by real brokenness. And the truth is that all people “have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). None of us – not a single person in the history of the world other than Jesus – deserve to be anywhere near His lineage. But faith in God – trusting in His work, His steadfast love, His kindness, His promises, and in Him – is woven through that lineage like a scarlet cord of grace, like that cord hanging from Rahab’s window, marking those who He saves as safe (Ephesians 2:8-9).
When we look at the mixture of their sin and God’s faithfulness, their failures and His mercy, their weakness and His strength, we are reminded that noneof us are worthy of salvation. But that is exactly why He came. Jesus Himself said that He came to “seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10). That coming to seek and save is remembered in Christmas – the incarnation – God coming, taking on flesh and dwelling among us (John 1:14). Hope came as God Himself entered the world with a real genealogy filled with real sinners so He could redeem real sinners like us (Philippians 2:5-8).
The stories of these four women aren’t in Matthew 1 to embarrass them or Jesus. They’re there to announce Him! They testify that the promised King comes through stories soaked in sin, sorrow, scandal, and suffering so that He can bring hope where hope seems impossible. Their lives preach to us that no one is too far gone, no past is too messy, no family tree too twisted, no heart too broken or sin too deep for the Redeemer who came from their line (Hebrews 7:25).
So, as you gather with family and friends this Christmas – and maybe as you glance around at some rough-looking fruit on your own family tree – or whether the roughest branch you see is staring back to you in the mirror of God’s Word, remember this: Jesus is more than the reason for the season. He is the gift of hope for sinners. He came through a broken lineage to step into our brokenness. He came to seek and save people like Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba, and David – people like you and people like me (Romans 5:8).
If you haven’t before, won’t you ask Him to save you?
Call on Him. Trust Him. Let the promised King fill your heart with the gift of hope – real hope, lasting hope, the hope that only Jesus can give (1 Peter 1:3-5). If Jesus has saved you, take heart in this beautiful truth: the same King who came to seek and save you is the One who holds you fast. Your hope still isn’t in your performance but in Him and in His promises. And “He who promised is faithful” (Hebrews 10:23). He has redeemed you (Ephesians 1:7), He is with you (Matthew 28:20), and He will come again for you (John 14:3). So fix your eyes on Him this Christmas. Rest in what He’s done. Rejoice in what He’s doing. And let the hope of our Promised King steady your heart now and in every season to come.
[2] This was known as a levirate marriage. TheLexham Cultural Ontology Glossary defines levirate marriage as:
“A law and custom in ancient Israel that if a man died without sons his brother would take the widow for a wife in order to provide male offspring for his dead brother. The children then would be heirs of their dead father’s land and possessions and the family line would not be broken.”
[3] For clarification, saying “her people” here is not referencing her ethnicity but the fact that God commanded Jericho marked for destruction as punishment for sin.
[4] The IVP Bible Background Commentary: Old Testament defines kinsman redeemer thusly:
“The kinsman-redeemer’s role was to help recover the tribes losses, whether those loses were human (in which case he hunted down the killer), judicial (in which case he assisted in lawsuits) or economic (in which case he recovered the property of a family member). Since Yahweh had granted the land to the Israelites as tenants, they could not sell it…. In this way the land remained with extended family as a sign of its membership in the covenantal community.”
This describes the way Boaz married Ruth so that Naomi would have access and provision from the land of her husband and family. There was a more closely related person who could have done this, but Boaz chose to take up the mantle of Ruth’s husband in order to give them the care they needed.
Sunday’s coming, and I’m excited — really, it’s the season that has me excited this week, thinking back on Jesus’s first coming and longing for His return.
Some call this the holiday season, referencing the ever growing plethora of holidays ranging from late November to early January. Others call it the Christmas season, stemming from their clear desire to make sure folks know that Jesus is the reason for the season. The older I get, the more I think of the season leading up to the celebration of Jesus’s birth at Christmas as Advent.
The Church has called this season Advent for centuries (stemming from the Latin word adventus, meaning “coming” or “arriving”), meditating on the coming and arrival of Jesus. And that’s the heartbeat of these weeks leading up to Christmas: Jesus has come, and He will come again.
Advent has a way of slowing us down just enough to remember what matters most. It invites us to look back with gratitude and forward with expectation — back to God becoming flesh and dwelling among us, back to when God kept His promise and sent His Son, and forward to the day when the very same Jesus will come again in glory.
In recent years, we’ve marked these weeks with the lighting of candles to help us focus on Jesus’s past and future advents. The first one — the candle of hope — reminds us that the hope with have in Jesus isn’t some vague wish but an expectation anchored in God’s faithfulness and eternal nature.
All of our readings this year will be based out of the book of Hebrews that we’ve been studying together this year. Hebrews tells us that God confirmed His promise with an oath “so that we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us” (Hebrews 6:18). The hope He gives is “a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul” (Hebrews 6:19) because it doesn’t rest on us at all but entirely on God’s strength and faithfulness.
As we ponder on the hope we have in Jesus in this Advent season, we are reminded that God keeps His promises. Every prophecy, every shadow, every longing of the Old Testament finds “yes and amen” in the first coming of Jesus (2 Corinthians 1:20). And because God proved Himself faithful in that first coming, we can trust Him with every promise whose fulfillment still lays ahead.
Earlier, I remarked about the differences in the way some people refer to the season; a lot of that is driven by sentimentality. The hope we celebrate in Advent isn’t sentimental. It’s not rooted in changing seasons or circumstances but in the unchanging character of our promise-keeping God. Because He sent His Son just as He promised for millennia, we can “hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful” (Hebrews 10:23).
This is the good, gospel news Advent holds out to weary people: Emmanuel (God with us) has come. And Emmanuel will come again. The One who fulfilled every word of prophecy in HIs first coming will do the same at His return. That’s why our hearts can sing with confidence the longing woven into “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel”:
“Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel…shall come again with us to dwell!”
What began in Bethlehem will end in glory. The God who came near has promised to come again and make all things new. And in these early weeks of Advent at Christ Community, as we worship, pray, and sing together, we do so with the steady, joyful hope that the King who came once will surely come again — because He who promised is faithful.
Since this is true — and it is — we need to understand that Advent isn’t just a season to observe but a season pointing to the Savior we can come to ourselves. The same Jesus who came once in humility and will come again in glory invites you now to draw near to Him in faith.
If you are weary, come to Him.
If you feel the weight of sin or sorrow, come to Him.
If you’re longing for something more solid than the shifting foundations of this world, come to Him.
The anchor of hope that Hebrews tells about is not an idea but a Person, and His name is Jesus. He’s strong enough, faithful enough, and near enough to hold you fast. I want to invite you to seek Him this Advent season. Bring your questions, your needs, your joys, your burdens. He’s a truer hope than anything this world can offer, and He delights to meet His people when they come to Him.
And I also want to invite you to gather with us this Sunday at Christ Community. There’s something uniquely beautiful about joining our voices together, singing the hope of the gospel, praying with expectation, and sitting under John’s faithful preaching when He opens the Scriptures and points us to Jesus — our living hope, our faithful High Priest, our soon-coming King.
So, come.
Come behold the One who came for us, who is with us, and who will come again for His people.
Here are our Scriptures, songs, and Advent readings:
Advent Reading | Hope —
Lighting the first candle of Advent reminds us that our hope is not a vague wish or a fragile feeling—it is anchored in the unchanging promises of God. Hebrews tells us that God “guaranteed” His promise with an oath so that we might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us (Hebrews 6:17–18). This hope is “a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul,” firm because it rests on who God is and what He has already done for us in Jesus Christ.
Advent reminds us that God kept His promises in sending His Son. Everything He foretold in Scripture—every shadow, every prophecy, every longing—was fulfilled in Christ. Because God proved Himself faithful in Christ’s first coming, we can trust Him with every promise still ahead. As we enter this season, let us cling to the confession of our hope without wavering, for “He who promised is faithful” (Hebrews 10:23).
17So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise the unchangeable character of his purpose, he guaranteed it with an oath, 18so that by two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. 19We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, 20where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.
12 So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom. 13 Return, O Lord! How long? Have pity on your servants! 14 Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days. 15 Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, and for as many years as we have seen evil. 16 Let your work be shown to your servants, and your glorious power to their children. 17 Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us; yes, establish the work of our hands![1]
Psalm 90
Greetings Sojourners!
It’s been a while since we’ve had one of these, but as I am learning, I’m glad to get to do what I get to do when I get to do it. 2025 has been a year of learning for me. I was not glad to be in this class, so to speak, back in the health struggles of June and the months of recuperation, but now, as of today, I can honestly say that I am thankful.
The reason I think about the experiences of the past six months as a class is attributed to my pastor, John Goldwater. On a particularly low evening in the hospital, I FaceTimed him to ask for prayer and receive counsel. I was supposed to be where he was, on a mission trip with Christ Community’s youth group in New Mexico; at the very least, I was just not supposed to be where I was, laid up in a hospital bed with the weight of a mysterious illness and not being able to walk or really even use my arms and hands. My spirits were low, and my attitude was bordering on poor. John gave the pastoral counsel I needed. He reminded me that while I wasn’t on the mission I had planned to be, I was still on mission – the mission God had given me. That hit hard. Then, he told me with his characteristic wit: even though I didn’t sign up for this class, make sure I learned whatever the Lord would have me learn the first time because I sure didn’t want to have to take it again.
That perspective helped me immensely. Even though whatever was wrong had all of the doctors puzzled and befuddled, God Almighty was not puzzled nor was He out of control. I was no less His in those weeks of pain, struggle, and fear. He was no less sovereign. His plan was not thwarted by medical mystery even if that plan seemed shrouded from my perspective.
Some of the things I learned can be summed up quickly:
When we read in Scripture that the Lord is our help in trouble and the true source of strength for those who are saved – those who are His, this is more than a theological truth; it is a genuine truth meant to be lived out.
Marriage is a picture of the gospel. This picture is not fully illustrated through the good and easy times. I have never been served or cared for like Candice did for me in the hospital and since. Her love shown to me is a picture of how the Church should love Christ.
I am thankful to get to do ministry, but I am not necessary. Don’t get me wrong, I know God called me to be where he wants me to be and that He has given me what I need to be equipped to do what He has called me to do. He is who is necessary. Christ Community kept right on going, the praise team did not miss a beat, my Sunday School small group kept right on studying the Word, and every single thing I was involved in prior to June kept right on going because the work of the Lord is powered by His Spirit and not contingent upon my involvement. I’m glad to be back, but it’s such a relief to be reminded my place in all of this, more importantly the Lord’s primacy.
Finally, and I am still learning this, the Lord is teaching me to number my days – which is the subject of our Bible study from Psalm 90 (specifically verse 12) today.
The Context of Psalm 90 – A Prayer of Moses, the Man of God
The attribution of this psalm makes it stand out – “A Prayer of Moses, the Man of God”. This marks him by his relationship with the Lord and helps this psalm invite us to listen in to this prayer, and understand the context being the experiences of a man who walked closely with the Lord and carrying the weight of leading God’s people. Since most Bible scholars date this psalm late in the wilderness years, this prayer hits different when this “Man of God” is leading the people at a time when the older generation who had left Egypt were dying off as a consequence of their sin. This was a period marked by God’s judgment on sin. That sets a rather somber tone.
Moses begins Psalm 90 by lifting our eyes to the eternal God who has been the “dwelling place” of His people in every generation, then and forevermore. Before the mountains were formed, before Creation, God has been God and nothing will or can change that truth. In fact, the eternal nature of God is the basis of this psalm and a powerful part of the contrast with our temporal nature. God is God always and forever. Man returns to dust, our years passing quickly and the strongest and longest lives being brief in comparison to eternity. Sometimes we talk about this as a natural part of life because that’s part of our human experience, but the context here is tied to sin and the curse given in Eden when God declared that humanity would return to the dust (Genesis 3:19). Moses had lived and led long enough to have experienced this up close and personal.
But Psalm 90 isn’t simply a reflection on humanity and time but is instead a community lament, a prayer offered by Moses on behalf of God’s people as they faced affliction and death, asking God to show compassion, turn from His anger, and renew their joy. Psalm 90 traces a pattern: God’s eternal nature (vv. 1-2), man’s mortality (vv. 3-6), God’s righteous anger toward sin (vv. 7-12), and a plea for God to bless His people with steadfast love, purpose, and lasting fruit (vv. 13-17). And woven into the prayer is the reality of time – days, years, generations – because Moses wants the people to recognize that God’s mercy and guidance gives their lives enduring value.
This context makes v. 12 the hinge on which the whole psalm turns: “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.” This isn’t about counting birthdays or marking the passage of time. Moses here is asking God to help us weigh our days – to see how few they are, how quickly they pass, and how desperately we need God to guide us if we want to use the time we are given well. This is how a lament can turn to hope by vv. 13-17 when Moses asks God to “return” to His people with compassion, to satisfy them each morning with His unfailing love, to replace their long years of affliction with joy, and to let their work matter and endure – that the Lord will establish their work in light of His eternal purposes.
This is the world Psalm 90 speaks into – a world where our days are short, our strength is limited, and our lives are fragile but God Himself is eternal, faithful, compassionate, and near. To number our days is not morbid but wise. It’s a call to live intentionally following Christ, seeking His mercy, and resting in Him, the God who has been His people’s dwelling place in every generation.
Learning to Number My Days
As I sat with Psalm 90 in these months of recovery, Moses’s prayer didn’t feel like some poetry from an ancient text but the vocabulary Jesus was teaching me in my own heart. The context of the psalm helped me see something beautiful. Moses was leading a people who were painfully aware that life was short, that sin was serious, and that every day they were given was God’s mercy. That’s heavy! Yet in that heaviness, Moses didn’t get stuck in lament but asked God to teach His people how to live wisely, joyfully, and purposefully in the time they’ve been given.
That’s where this really hit me.
Yes, I felt sorry for myself. Yes, I was scared. Rehab was hard. Learning how to walk again was as scary as it was difficult. Every step I took was pain for months. I thought I nothing would ever return to normal. Hospital bills and insurance conversations brought anxiety. Having everyone in my life treat me like a box that says “Fragile! Handle with care!” was frustrating at times, and knowing that I needed their help was a constant weight of guilt and, if I’m honest, shame at times. But I found that with every new step, every new growth, every little gain brought thankfulness – thankfulness to God for carrying me through and sustaining.
When you’ve experienced the reality that life is fragile and our bodies fail us, you begin to understand that every day is a gift. Numbering my days isn’t about counting how many I’ve accumulated over the decades but asking God to shape all the ones He chooses to give me as He wills and works for His glory and my good!
That brings me to the final part of Moses’s prayer in Psalm 90. After asking the Lord to teach them to number their days, he asks God for His compassion, steadfast love, joy, and favor to fill those days (vv. 13-17). Wisdom isn’t just knowing intellectually that life is short; wisdom is knowing that a short life held by God is a life full of meaning.
So, when I ask the Lord to teach me to number my days, I’m really asking Him to do what He promised in those last verses of Psalm 90 – to satisfy me with His steadfast love every morning, to give joy that outlasts and outshines every affliction, and to establish the work of my hands – the work He has called me to – so that nothing done for His glory is wasted. That kind of wisdom doesn’t lead to despair; it leads to gratitude. I wish I could say that I have this wisdom locked down. I don’t. But my heart is moved to give thanks to my God – not for perfect circumstances but for His faithfulness carrying me through this season of life, and thanking Him for the gift of today.
Wrapping Up
As I look back on this year, I can testify that Jesus is faithful. He’s been teaching me to number my days – not by making me afraid of losing them but by making me grateful for each one He gives. Today, Thanksgiving Day, I am thankful to the God who has been and is my refuge. I’m thankful for Candice who has loved me with Christ-like love. I’m thankful for Keri and Xander reminding me daily that God’s kindness is real. I’m thankful for my family serving me and doing what I couldn’t (and can’t) because they love me with no thought to whether it’s deserved – just giving. I’m thankful for a faith family at Christ Community (and the Foundry Church) who carried on faithfully because the work belongs to the Lord, not me. And I’m thankful for the simple grace of waking up this morning with enough strength provided to live today for the glory of God.
Psalm 90:14 says, “Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.” That’s my prayer – not to have more and more days but to have days filled with the steadfast love of the Lord. And for as many days as He chooses to give, I want to live in gratitude to Him, with purpose, and with the wisdom that comes from knowing all my days are in His hands.
So, today, I’m giving thanks – not merely because it’s Thanksgiving, not for the comfort of recovery – but for the God who walks with me through every valley, sustains me in all my weakness, and teaches me to live the life He’s given. He’s my dwelling place. How about you?
As Paul closes his letter, he moves from big doctrines to very practical details. He gives instructions about a collection for believers in Jerusalem who are in need, asking each person to set something aside on “the first day of every week”—the day believers gathered in honor of Jesus’s resurrection (vv. 1–2). Giving is to be regular, intentional, and proportionate, not random or forced (v. 2). Paul also shares his travel plans and explains why he is staying in Ephesus for a while longer: “a wide door for effective work has opened to me, and there are many adversaries” (vv. 5–9). Even in opposition, God is at work. He also urges the church to receive Timothy without fear and notes that Apollos will come when he has opportunity (vv. 10–12).
Then Paul gives a series of short but powerful commands: “Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong. Let all that you do be done in love” (vv. 13–14). The church is to live alert and courageous, but always with a heart of love. He commends the household of Stephanas, “the first converts in Achaia,” as faithful servants and urges the church to be subject to such godly leaders and to honor those who labor among them (vv. 15–18). The letter closes with warm greetings from the churches in Asia, including Aquila and Prisca and the church that meets in their house, and with the reminder that believers should greet one another with a “holy kiss”—a sign of genuine family love in Christ (vv. 19–20).
Paul signs the ending with his own hand and gives both a sober warning and a hopeful cry: “If anyone has no love for the Lord, let him be accursed. Our Lord, come!” (vv. 21–22). Love for Jesus is not optional—it marks those who truly belong to Him. Yet even as he warns, Paul ends on grace and love: “The grace of the Lord Jesus be with you. My love be with you all in Christ Jesus” (vv. 23–24). Truth, warning, grace, and affection all come together in this closing, showing a pastor’s heart that longs for his people to stand firm in the gospel and live in love until Jesus returns.
🌀 Reflection: Where do you most need these closing commands today—to stay alert, stand firm, be courageous and strong, and do everything in love (vv. 13–14)? Ask the Lord to help you hold onto truth without losing tenderness, and to shape your giving, your serving, and your relationships so that they clearly flow from love for Jesus and His people.
💬 Mission Challenge: Set aside a specific gift or act of generosity this week—financial or otherwise—to bless a believer or ministry in need, and let them know you are doing it “in love” because of Jesus (vv. 2, 14).
Paul turns to the heart of the gospel—the resurrection of Jesus—and shows why everything we believe depends on it. He reminds the Corinthians of the message they “received” and on which they “stand”: that Christ died for our sins, was buried, and was raised on the third day “in accordance with the Scriptures” (vv. 1–4; cf. Isa. 53:5–12; Ps. 16:10; Hos. 6:2). This isn’t myth or rumor—Jesus appeared to Peter, the Twelve, more than 500 at once, James, all the apostles, and finally to Paul himself (vv. 5–8). These eyewitnesses were living proof that the tomb was empty and Christ is alive. By God’s grace, this risen Christ transformed Paul from a persecutor into an apostle, and this same gospel is what all the apostles proclaim together (vv. 9–11).
Some in Corinth believed Jesus rose but denied that believers will be raised (v. 12). Paul shows that you cannot separate the two: if there is no resurrection for us, then Christ Himself has not been raised (vv. 13, 16). And if Christ is not raised, the consequences are devastating—our preaching is empty, our faith is useless, we remain in our sins, and those who have died in Christ are gone forever (vv. 14–18). But Christ has been raised—the “firstfruits” of a harvest that guarantees our own resurrection when He returns (vv. 20–23). In Adam, death spread to all, but in Christ all His people will be made alive (v. 22; cf. Rom. 5:12–21). When Jesus finally destroys every enemy—finishing with death itself—He will hand the kingdom to the Father, bringing God’s plan to its perfect completion (vv. 24–28).
To those who question how resurrection could work, Paul uses pictures from creation. A seed must die to be raised in a new, glorious form (vv. 35–38). In the same way, our earthly bodies are perishable, weak, and natural, but the resurrection body will be imperishable, glorious, powerful, and fully animated by the Spirit (vv. 42–44). Adam was the first man, made from the dust; Christ is the last Adam, the life-giving Spirit from heaven (vv. 45–49). What is sown mortal will be raised immortal (vv. 50–53). When Christ returns, death will be swallowed up in victory, fulfilling God’s promises (vv. 54–55; cf. Isa. 25:8; Hos. 13:14). Through Jesus, God has removed sin’s sting and broken death’s power forever (vv. 56–57). Therefore, because resurrection is certain, our labor for Christ is never wasted or forgotten (v. 58).
🌀 Reflection: Where does the hope of resurrection shape the way you live today? Ask the Lord to help you see your body, your work, and your daily struggles in light of the victory Christ has already won—and the glory He has promised at His return.
💬 Mission Challenge: Encourage someone today who is grieving, suffering, or weary by sharing a verse or truth from this chapter. Remind them that in Christ, death is defeated and their labor is not in vain.
After lifting our eyes to the beauty of love, Paul brings that “more excellent way” (13:1, 13) right into the worship gathering. He urges the church to pursue love and still be eager for the gifts of the Spirit—especially prophecy, because it clearly builds up the church (vv. 1–5). Speaking in tongues is real prayer and praise to God, but when no one understands or interprets, it only benefits the one speaking (vv. 2, 4, 14–17). Prophecy, however, is intelligible speech that strengthens, encourages, and comforts others (vv. 3–5). The repeated question is: does this help other people understand and grow? Edification and clarity are the main tests for what should happen in the gathering (vv. 6–12, 19).
Paul also shows how these gifts affect unbelievers who visit the church. Uninterpreted tongues can make outsiders think Christians are out of their minds, which becomes a kind of judgment on their unbelief (vv. 21–23). But when God’s Word is clearly spoken, prophecy can expose the secrets of the heart, bring conviction, and lead someone to fall on their face, worship God, and confess that “God is really among you” (vv. 24–25). Because of this, Paul gives practical instructions: only a few should speak in tongues, and only if there is an interpreter; otherwise, they should be silent and pray quietly (vv. 27–28). Likewise, only a few should prophesy while the others carefully weigh what is said (vv. 29–31). Everything must be self-controlled, peaceful, and orderly because God is not a God of confusion but of peace (vv. 32–33). In that same spirit, Paul calls married women in Corinth to honor their husbands and not disrupt the weighing of prophecies in a way that overturns God’s good order in the church (vv. 34–35).
Paul closes by reminding them that his words are a command of the Lord, not just personal advice (v. 37). So the church should be eager for prophecy, should not forbid tongues when used rightly, and must make sure that “all things should be done decently and in order” (vv. 39–40). Love, clarity, and building up the body are to shape everything we do when we gather in Jesus’s name.
🌀 Reflection: When you think about Sunday worship, do you primarily ask, “What will I get out of it?” or, “How can I help build others up today?” Ask the Lord to reshape your heart so that your prayers, words, and service—whether seen or unseen—aim at helping others understand God’s Word and experience His presence.
💬 Mission Challenge: Before your next church gathering, pray intentionally for one way you can build up someone else—through a clear word of encouragement, a Scripture shared at the right time, or a quiet act of service—and then do it for Jesus’s sake and the good of His body.
After talking about spiritual gifts, Paul pauses to show the “more excellent way” that must shape everything: love (v. 1; 12:31). He says even the most impressive gifts—speaking in tongues, powerful preaching, knowing “all mysteries,” mountain-moving faith, radical generosity, or even dying for Jesus—amount to nothing without love (vv. 1–3). God cares not just about what we do, but why we do it. Ministry without love is just religious noise.
Paul then paints a beautiful picture of what real, Christlike love looks like. Love is patient and kind; it does not envy, boast, or puff itself up (v. 4). Love doesn’t insist on its own way, fly off the handle, or keep a running record of how others have hurt us (v. 5). Instead, it rejoices in the truth and “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (vv. 6–7). This is the love Jesus has shown us, and it is the love He calls us to show one another (John 13:34–35).
Finally, Paul reminds the Corinthians that spiritual gifts are temporary, but love is forever. Prophecy, tongues, and special knowledge all belong to this present, “in part” age; they will pass away when “the perfect” comes and we see the Lord “face to face” (vv. 8–12). But faith, hope, and love remain—and “the greatest of these is love” (v. 13). Gifts are good and needed, but love is essential. In eternity, no one will be impressed with how gifted we were—but our love will still matter.
🌀 Reflection: Where do you see yourself using your gifts without much love—maybe in your church, home, or online? Ask the Lord to show you any pride, impatience, or scorekeeping that has crept into your heart. Pray for His Spirit to help you move toward others with the patience, kindness, and endurance described in this chapter.
💬 Mission Challenge: Practice one concrete act of love today that costs you something—time, attention, comfort, or preference—for the good of another person, and do it quietly, without drawing attention to yourself.
Paul turns to the Corinthians’ confusion about spiritual gifts—areas where pride, comparison, and misuse had fractured their unity (v. 1). He reminds them that the Holy Spirit never leads anyone to dishonor Jesus; rather, the Spirit enables believers to confess from the heart that “Jesus is Lord” (v. 3). From there, Paul lifts their eyes to the triune God—Father, Son, and Spirit—who gives a rich variety of gifts but for one purpose: the common good of the church (vv. 4–7). Some believers are gifted to speak wisdom or knowledge, others with faith, healing, miracles, discernment, prophecy, tongues, or interpretation (vv. 8–10). Whatever the gift, each one is given sovereignly and intentionally by the Spirit “as he wills,” not for status but for service (v. 11).
To correct their rivalry, Paul gives the picture of the church as Christ’s body. By the Spirit, all believers—Jew or Greek, slave or free—have been brought into one body and made to drink of one Spirit (vv. 12–13). That means no Christian is unnecessary, inferior, or overlooked. A body cannot be all eye or all ear; every part is needed, and God Himself has arranged each member and each gift exactly as He intended (vv. 14–20). In Corinth, those with showy gifts were exalting themselves, while those with quieter gifts were discouraged. Paul insists that the “weaker” or less visible members are just as indispensable, worthy of honor and care (vv. 21–26). This vision of mutual concern reflects Christ’s heart for His church.
Paul closes by listing some of the church’s foundational roles—apostles, prophets, and teachers—along with other vital gifts like helping, leading, and tongues (v. 28). His series of rhetorical questions makes the point unmistakable: God never gave every gift to every person (vv. 29–30). Diversity is not a flaw but God’s design. And yet there is something more excellent than even the greatest gifts: love—the only attitude that makes any gift truly edifying (v. 31; cf. 13:1–3).
🌀 Reflection: Do you ever look at your own gifts and feel jealous, discouraged, or proud? Take a moment to thank God for the particular ways He has equipped you—and for the brothers and sisters whose gifts complement yours. Ask Him to help you see your church family the way He does: one body, lovingly arranged for His glory.
💬 Mission Challenge: Affirm a fellow believer’s gift today. Send a message, speak a word, or write a note that honors how God is using them in the body of Christ. Strengthen unity by strengthening someone’s courage.
Paul begins by calling the Corinthians to “be imitators of me, as I am of Christ” (v. 1), then addresses how men and women conduct themselves in gathered worship. He reminds them that God has ordered relationships for our good: Christ is the head of every man, the husband is the head of his wife, and the head of Christ is God (v. 3). In Corinth’s culture, a wife’s head covering signaled respect for her husband and honored God’s design, while casting it off brought shame (vv. 5–6, 13–15). Paul’s concern is not about a particular piece of cloth for all times, but about honoring the Lord’s order and bearing ourselves in worship in ways that point to Christ rather than to ourselves (vv. 7–12, 16).
Then Paul turns to a serious problem with the Lord’s Supper. When they gathered, the wealthier believers were eating and drinking plenty while poorer believers went hungry—even to the point that some were getting drunk while others had nothing (vv. 20–22). Paul reminds them of what the Supper really is: on the night He was betrayed, Jesus took bread and the cup and gave them as signs of His body given and His blood of the new covenant, commanding His people to “do this in remembrance of me” (vv. 23–25). Every time the church eats this bread and drinks the cup, we proclaim the Lord’s death until He comes (v. 26). That means our behavior at the table must match the message of the cross—humble, self-giving, and full of love.
Because the Corinthians were treating this holy meal lightly and ignoring the needs of their brothers and sisters, many were experiencing the Lord’s discipline—even weakness, illness, and death (vv. 27–30). So Paul urges them to “examine” themselves before they eat and drink, to discern the body of Christ, and to wait for one another so that everyone may share together (vv. 28–29, 33–34). God’s goal, even in discipline, is mercy—to correct His children so they will not be condemned with the world (vv. 31–32). The Lord’s Supper is therefore not just a private moment with Jesus, but a family meal that should reflect the gospel we proclaim.
🌀 Reflection: When you think about the Lord’s Supper, do you tend to see it mainly as a personal habit or a holy sharing with Christ and His people? Ask the Lord to search your heart for any selfishness, bitterness, or carelessness toward your church family, and to help you approach the table with humble remembrance, repentance, and gratitude for Jesus’s death for you (vv. 27–28).
💬 Mission Challenge: Before the next time your church observes the Lord’s Supper, reach out to one fellow believer you’ve overlooked, avoided, or simply haven’t encouraged lately. Make a deliberate effort to honor Christ’s body—His people—through a text, call, or conversation that seeks their good and reflects the love of the cross (vv. 29, 33).
Just Keith Harris 