Category Archives: Emmanuel (God With Us)

NT260 | Phase 3 — Persevering in the Last Day

This phase reflects the influence of Peter. The Gospel of Mark is widely understood to preserve Peter’s preaching and eyewitness testimony. Peter’s letters call believers to faithfulness in suffering, holiness in a hostile world, and hope anchored in the return of Christ. Jude echoes those same concerns, warning against false teachers and urging the church to contend for the faith—making it a fitting companion to 2 Peter.

What makes this transition especially meaningful is where Phase 2 ended. Our final reading in Phase 2 was 2 Timothy 4, the ending to Paul’s final letter, written from prison as he awaited martyrdom. In that chapter, Paul asked Timothy to bring John Mark with him, saying, “for he is very useful to me for ministry” (2 Timothy 4:11). That single line carries a beautiful story of restoration. Earlier in Acts, Mark had withdrawn from missionary work, leading to a sharp disagreement between Paul and Barnabas (Acts 13:13, 15:36–40). Yet years later, as Paul’s life and ministry draw to a close, Mark is not only restored — but trusted.

This restoration had already begun. During Paul’s earlier imprisonment, Mark was with him, and Paul instructed the churches to welcome him (Colossians 4:10). By the time Paul writes his final words, Mark is no longer a cautionary tale but a valued coworker.

It is no accident — at least not in the ultimate sense — but neither is it the result of our own brilliant planning. This is one of those quiet God-winks that reminds us the Lord is always telling a bigger story than we realize. As Phase 2 ends with Paul’s final words and his restored confidence in John Mark, Phase 3 begins with Mark’s Gospel. The man once known for faltering becomes the one entrusted with recording Peter’s testimony about Jesus. The gospel that opens this phase is written by a restored servant, shaped by an apostle who knew suffering well, and given to a church learning how to endure faithfully until the end.

Phase 3, then, is not only about persevering in the last days — it is about the God who restores His people, strengthens them through trial, guards them from error, and keeps them faithful until Christ returns.

Below, you’ll find brief synopses of each book in this phase to help you understand the scope of the book and most importantly, how it fits into the full Story of the Bible.

When you click on each day’s link, you will find a link to audio, a summary of the chapter, a key verse from the chapter, and opportunities for reflection and outreach.

We’re moving into Paul’s epistles, which we’ll go through chronologically rather than in the order they appear in our Bibles.

Mark

The Gospel of Mark tells the story of Jesus as the long-promised Savior who has come to bring God’s Kingdom near. From the opening line, Mark moves quickly to show that Jesus is not simply a teacher or miracle worker, but the Son of God who arrives with divine authority (Mark 1:1, 14–15). Rooted deeply in the Old Testament story, Mark presents Jesus as the fulfillment of God’s promises to Israel — One who confronts sin, sickness, demons, and death itself. Yet from the start, Jesus is also misunderstood and opposed, especially by Israel’s leaders, revealing the deep spiritual blindness of the human heart (Mark 2:1–3:6, 4:11–12).

As the story unfolds, Mark emphasizes that Jesus’s identity can only be rightly understood through suffering. Again and again, Jesus reshapes expectations of what the Messiah has come to do. He is the Son of Man with authority, but He is also the suffering Servant who must be rejected, killed, and rise again (Mark 8:31, 10:45). This path to the cross stands at the center of God’s plan of salvation. Jesus triumphs not through power as the world understands it, but through humble obedience, laying down His life as a ransom for many (Mark 14:36, 15:39).

Mark also shows that following Jesus means sharing in this same pattern. True discipleship is not merely believing the right things but living in faithful trust and costly obedience. Those who follow Jesus are called to deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow Him—even in the face of rejection and suffering (Mark 8:34–38). The gospel Mark proclaims climaxes in the crucifixion and resurrection, where Jesus decisively defeats sin and Satan and opens the way for everlasting salvation. In God’s unfolding story, Mark reminds us that the kingdom comes through the cross, and that life is found by following the crucified and risen King.

1 Peter

The letter of 1 Peter was written by the apostle Peter to encourage believers who were suffering because of their faith. From the opening, Peter identifies his readers as God’s chosen people — “exiles” scattered across the provinces of Asia Minor (1 Peter 1:1). Whether that exile language is partly literal or mainly spiritual, the point is clear: Christians live in a world that does not fully welcome them, because their true home and inheritance are with God (1 Peter 1:3–5, 2:11). Peter writes to strengthen weary saints with hope — hope grounded not in easier circumstances, but in the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the sure promise of final salvation when Christ returns (1 Peter 1:3–9, 13).

At the heart of 1 Peter is the pattern of Jesus Himself: suffering now, glory later. Peter reminds believers that their trials do not mean God has abandoned them; rather, suffering for doing good is part of following a crucified and risen Savior (1 Peter 2:21–23, 4:12–13). Jesus’s death is not only an example — it is substitutionary atonement that brings sinners to God (1 Peter 2:24, 3:18). And Jesus’s resurrection and ascension mean evil will not have the final word: Christ has triumphed, and all powers are subject to Him (1 Peter 3:22). Because of what Christ has done, believers have been given new birth into a living hope and are being guarded by God for an inheritance that cannot perish (1 Peter 1:3–5).

That living hope shapes everyday life. Peter calls Christians to holy, love-filled obedience that makes the gospel visible in a hostile culture (1 Peter 1:14–16, 2:11–12). He describes the church as God’s new temple — “living stones” built into a spiritual house — and God’s covenant people: a chosen race, royal priesthood, holy nation, and treasured possession (1 Peter 2:4–10). Then he brings that identity down into the ordinary places where pressure is often felt most — relationships, workplaces, homes, and society — urging believers to do good, to honor authorities rightly, to endure unjust treatment faithfully, and to answer hostility with blessing (1 Peter 2:13–17, 18–20; 3:1–9). In short, 1 Peter teaches Christians how to stand firm in “the true grace of God” (1 Peter 5:12): suffering without losing hope, living holy without becoming harsh, and bearing witness to Jesus while waiting for the day when God will fully vindicate His people.

  • February 18 — 1 Peter 1
  • February 19 — 1 Peter 2
  • February 20 — 1 Peter 3
  • February 21 — 1 Peter 4
  • February 22 — 1 Peter 5

2 Peter

2 Peter is a final letter written by the apostle Peter near the end of his life, likely from Rome, as he awaited martyrdom (2 Peter 1:12–15). Like his first letter, it is written to believers facing real pressure, but this time the danger comes from within the church rather than from outside persecution. Peter writes as a spiritual father giving last reminders, urging Christians to hold firmly to what they already know and believe. He points them back to the truth they received from the apostles and from Scripture, reminding them that the gospel they trusted is not a clever story but God’s revealed truth (2 Peter 1:16–21).

In the flow of the Bible’s story, 2 Peter helps God’s people live faithfully in the time between Jesus’s first and second coming. Jesus has already accomplished salvation through his death and resurrection, but the church now waits for his return. During this waiting, false teachers arise, twisting grace into an excuse for sin and questioning whether Jesus will really come back (2 Peter 2:1–3, 3:3–4). Peter responds by showing that God’s patience is not weakness but mercy, giving people time to repent before the day of judgment comes (2 Peter 3:8–9). Just as God judged rebellion in the past and rescued the righteous, he will do so again at the end (2 Peter 2:4–9).

2 Peter calls believers to live in light of where the story is headed. Because God has promised a new heaven and a new earth where righteousness dwells, Christians are to grow in holiness, knowledge, and steadfast faith now (2 Peter 1:5–11, 3:11–13). The letter closes by urging believers not to drift or be carried away by error, but to keep growing in the grace and knowledge of Jesus Christ until the day he returns (2 Peter 3:17–18). In this way, 2 Peter strengthens the church to remain faithful to the truth as it waits for the final fulfillment of God’s saving plan.

  • February 23 — 2 Peter 1
  • February 24 — 2 Peter 2
  • February 25 — 2 Peter 3

Jude

The book of Jude is a short but urgent letter written by Jude, the brother of James and a half-brother of Jesus (Jude 1, Matthew 13:55). Writing in the mid-60s, Jude addresses believers facing a serious danger from within the church. False teachers had quietly slipped in and were twisting God’s grace into an excuse for sinful living (Jude 4). Jude writes as a servant of Jesus Christ, not appealing to family ties, but calling the church to recognize the seriousness of the moment and to respond with faithfulness and courage.

In the flow of the Bible’s Story, Jude speaks to the life of God’s people after Christ has already accomplished salvation. Because Jesus has secured redemption once for all, believers are now responsible to guard and remain faithful to “the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints” (Jude 3). Jude looks back to God’s past acts of judgment and rescue — from the Exodus to Sodom and Gomorrah — to show that God does not ignore rebellion, even among those who claim to belong to Him (Jude 5–7). These warnings remind the church that rejecting God’s truth always leads to destruction, while trusting Him leads to life.

Jude closes by calling believers to persevere with both truth and mercy. They are to build themselves up in faith, pray in the Holy Spirit, and keep themselves in God’s love as they wait for the return of Jesus Christ (Jude 20–21). At the same time, they are to show mercy to those who are wavering, while refusing to compromise with sin (Jude 22–23). The letter ends with a powerful reminder that God himself is the one who keeps His people from falling and will bring them safely into His presence with great joy (Jude 24–25).

  • February 26 — Jude

Continue reading in our NT260 plan with Phase 4 — That You May Believe.

NT260 | Phase 2.4 — The Savior, His Church, and the Mission

This phase will have us reading about Jesus’s life in the gospel of Luke, the formation of the Church in Acts, and walk through the theology found in Paul’s letters that the Church needs to know about and live out the eternal life given by grace through faith in Jesus.

Below, you’ll find brief synopses of each book in this phase to help you understand the scope of the book and most importantly, how it fits into the full Story of the Bible.

When you click on each day’s link, you will find a link to audio, a summary of the chapter, a key verse from the chapter, and opportunities for reflection and outreach.

We’re moving into Paul’s epistles, which we’ll go through chronologically rather than in the order they appear in our Bibles.

Ephesians

Ephesians is a letter written by the apostle Paul around A.D. 60–62 while he was imprisoned in Rome (Ephesians 3:1, 6:20; Acts 28). Although traditionally addressed “to the Ephesians,” the letter was likely intended as a circular letter for several churches in the region of Asia Minor, with Ephesus as its primary hub (Ephesians 1:1). Paul had spent several years ministering in and around Ephesus (Acts 19:10), but the letter’s broad and impersonal tone suggests he is addressing a wider group of believers. Rather than responding to a specific crisis, Paul writes to remind the church who they are in Christ and how they are to live in light of God’s saving work.

At the heart of Ephesians is the breathtaking truth that God is uniting all things in Christ (Ephesians 1:9–10). Paul begins by praising God for the spiritual blessings believers have received “in Christ,” including election, redemption through Christ’s blood, forgiveness of sins, and the sealing of the Holy Spirit (Ephesians 1:3–14). He then reminds readers of what God has done for them personally: though they were once dead in sin, God made them alive by grace through faith—not by works (Ephesians 2:1–10). This saving grace does more than rescue individuals; it creates a new people. In Christ, Jews and Gentiles who were once divided are now reconciled to God and to one another, forming one new humanity and one household of God (Ephesians 2:11–22).

In the story of the Bible, Ephesians lifts our eyes to the cosmic scope of redemption. What God promised throughout the Old Testament has come to fulfillment in Jesus Christ, and the church now stands at the center of God’s plan to display His wisdom and grace to the world—and even to the heavenly powers (Ephesians 3:10–11). Christ reigns over all authority and power, and the church is His body, filled by Him and united under His headship (Ephesians 1:20–23). This new covenant people exists by grace alone and lives for the glory of God, awaiting the final consummation of all things in Christ.

The second half of Ephesians shows how these glorious truths shape everyday life. Because believers have been called into one body, they are urged to walk in unity, holiness, love, and wisdom (Ephesians 4:1–6, 5:1–2). Paul applies the gospel to relationships in the home, the church, and the world, showing what it looks like to live as those who belong to Christ (Ephesians 5:21–6:9). The letter closes with a call to stand firm in spiritual battle, clothed in the armor God provides, relying on His strength rather than our own (Ephesians 6:10–18). Ephesians reminds us that the church does not create its identity—it receives it from Christ—and then lives it out for His glory until He brings all things to completion.

Colossians & Philemon

Colossians is a letter written by the apostle Paul, with Timothy alongside him, to believers in the small city of Colossae (Colossians 1:1). Paul likely wrote during his imprisonment, most commonly connected to his Roman imprisonment, around A.D. 60–62 (Colossians 4:3, 10, 18; Acts 28). The letter was carried by Tychicus, and Onesimus traveled with him (Colossians 4:7–9), linking Colossians closely with Philemon and placing it in the same “Prison Letters” cluster as Ephesians. Paul had not personally visited Colossae (Colossians 2:1). Instead, the church seems to have been founded through the ministry of Epaphras, who likely came to faith during Paul’s years in Ephesus and then returned home to proclaim the gospel (Colossians 1:7, Acts 19:10).

Paul writes because a dangerous teaching was unsettling the church and threatening their confidence in Christ. While scholars debate the exact label for the error, the letter itself makes clear what was happening: voices were pressuring believers to look beyond Jesus for spiritual “fullness,” protection, or maturity—through additional spiritual intermediaries, mystical experiences, and a regimen of rules or ascetic practices (Colossians 2:8, 16–23). There are Jewish elements (festivals, Sabbaths) and spiritual/angelic elements (“worship of angels”), along with the sense that special insight or extra steps were needed to be truly secure (Colossians 2:16–18). Epaphras was so concerned that he sought Paul’s help, and Paul responds by pulling the church back to the center: Christ is enough, and nothing must be allowed to diminish His supremacy or the believer’s identity “in Him” (Colossians 2:9–10).

In the overall story of the Bible, Colossians declares with stunning clarity who Jesus is and what His saving work has accomplished. Christ is the image of the invisible God, the creator and sustainer of all things—visible and invisible—and the One through whom God will reconcile all things to Himself (Colossians 1:15–20). He is not one spiritual option among many; He is Lord over every power and authority, and in Him the fullness of deity dwells bodily (Colossians 2:9–10, 15). Because believers are united to Christ, they share in His death and resurrection life: they have been delivered from darkness, forgiven, and brought into the kingdom of the beloved Son (Colossians 1:13–14, 2:11–14). That means they do not need other mediators, rituals, or spiritual add-ons to make them complete—God has already made them full in Christ (Colossians 2:10).

Colossians also shows how a Christ-centered gospel produces a Christ-shaped life. Since believers have been raised with Christ, they are called to set their minds on the things above, put off the old patterns of sin, and put on the new virtues that reflect the character of Jesus—compassion, kindness, humility, patience, love, and thankful worship (Colossians 3:1–17). Paul brings that transformation into everyday relationships and households, showing that the lordship of Christ reaches into the ordinary places of life (Colossians 3:18–4:1). In the end, Colossians is both a warning and an encouragement: don’t be captured by man-made religion or fear-driven spirituality, but hold fast to Christ—the Head of the church, the Savior who reconciles, and the victorious Lord who is sufficient for His people in every way (Colossians 1:18–20, 2:19).

Philemon is a short, one-chapter personal letter from the apostle Paul (with Timothy named alongside him) to a believer named Philemon, a leader in Colossae whose home hosted a local church (Philemon 1–2). It was written during Paul’s imprisonment, most likely in Rome, around A.D. 60–62, at roughly the same time as Colossians, and it travels with the same delivery team—Tychicus and Onesimus (Colossians 4:7–9). That connection matters: when the church in Colossae gathered to hear Colossians read aloud—Christ’s supremacy, the believer’s new identity “in Him,” and the call to put on love and forgiveness (Colossians 1:15–20, 2:9–14, 3:12–14)—Philemon would have heard those truths first, and then received a second letter that applied them to a real situation in his own home.

The situation centers on Onesimus, who had wronged Philemon in some way (likely by running away and possibly causing financial loss), but who encountered Paul and was converted to Christ (Philemon 10, 18). Paul then sends Onesimus back—not merely to “return property,” but to pursue reconciliation shaped by the gospel. The heart of Paul’s appeal is that the gospel transforms people and relationships: Onesimus, once “useless,” has become truly “useful” (Philemon 11), and Philemon is urged to receive him “no longer as a bondservant but more than a bondservant, as a beloved brother” (Philemon 16). Paul could have commanded, but for love’s sake he appeals, even offering to cover any debt Onesimus owes (Philemon 8–9, 18–19). In the story of redemption, Philemon is a small letter with a big message: because Christ has forgiven and reconciled us to God, believers are called to extend that same grace toward one another—letting Jesus be “over us” not only in doctrine, but in everyday obedience, forgiveness, and restored fellowship (Philemon 15–17; cf. Colossians 3:13).

Philippians

Philippians is a warm, joy-filled letter written by the apostle Paul to the Christians in Philippi, a Roman colony in Macedonia and the first place in Europe where Paul established a church (Acts 16:12–40). From the beginning, this congregation had a special partnership with Paul: Lydia was the first convert, the Philippian jailer was brought to faith through God’s dramatic deliverance, and the church consistently supported Paul’s gospel work through prayer and generous giving (Acts 16:14–15, 33–34; Philippians 1:5, 4:15–16). Paul writes while imprisoned—most likely in Rome around A.D. 60–62—since he mentions the “praetorium” and “Caesar’s household,” and he speaks as though his case could soon end either in release or death (Philippians 1:13, 20–23; 4:22; cf. Acts 28:16, 30–31). The immediate occasion includes the Philippians’ gift sent through Epaphroditus and Paul’s desire to send news back—especially that Epaphroditus recovered from a serious illness and is returning to them (Philippians 2:25–30, 4:10–18).

Even so, Philippians is far more than a thank-you note. Its heartbeat is encouragement—calling believers to live as citizens of a heavenly kingdom in the middle of a proud Roman culture (Philippians 1:27, 3:20). Paul shows what that looks like through repeated themes of gospel-centered unity, humble service, steady joy, and faithful perseverance even in suffering (Philippians. 1:27–30, 2:1–4, 4:4–7). The centerpiece of the letter is the stunning portrait of Jesus in Philippians 2:5–11: though truly divine, Christ humbled Himself, took the form of a servant, and obeyed to the point of death on a cross—therefore God highly exalted Him so that every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord (Philippians 2:6–11). That Christ-shaped pattern then becomes the model for the church: Paul points to Christ first, and then to living examples like Timothy and Epaphroditus, urging the Philippians to put others first and to labor together for the gospel (Philippians 2:19–30).

Philippians also makes clear that spiritual growth is not passive. Paul presses the church to keep moving forward—never settling into spiritual complacency—because the gospel is too glorious and the world too dangerous for “coasting” (Philippians 1:25, 3:12–16). He warns them about false teachers who would replace Christ with confidence in the flesh, reminding them that righteousness comes through faith in Christ, not law-keeping or religious status (Philippians 3:2–9). Yet even while calling them to effort—“work out your own salvation with fear and trembling”—Paul anchors their confidence in God’s active grace: “for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (Philippians 2:12–13). In short, Philippians teaches a church how to live with deep joy and deep humility, holding tightly to Christ, standing together in unity, and pressing on until the day when their King is fully revealed (Philippians 1:6, 10; 3:14, 20–21).

1 Timothy

First Timothy is a pastoral letter from the apostle Paul to his younger coworker Timothy, whom Paul calls his “true child in the faith” (1 Timothy 1:2). Timothy had traveled and ministered alongside Paul for years (Acts 16:1–3, 19:22; Philippians 1:1), and at the time of this letter Paul had left him in Ephesus to help strengthen the church and confront serious problems there (1 Timothy 1:3). Ephesus was a major and influential city, and Paul had already warned that dangerous teachers would arise and draw people away from the truth (Acts 20:29–30). First Timothy addresses that exact kind of threat: teaching that sounded religious but produced confusion, pride, quarrels, and greed rather than love and godliness (1 Timothy 1:4–7, 6:3–10). Although some modern scholars dispute Paul’s authorship, the letter plainly names Paul as its author (1 Timothy 1:1), reflects a strong personal and autobiographical tone, and was received as Pauline and authoritative very early in the church’s life.

The timing likely fits after Paul’s first Roman imprisonment (Acts 28:16, 30–31). On the traditional understanding, Paul was released, continued mission work, and then later faced a second imprisonment that led to his death. In that window, 1 Timothy would fall in the early-to-mid 60s (often dated around A.D. 62–64), written from an unknown location while Timothy labored in and around Ephesus (1 Timothy 1:3, 3:14–15). Paul hopes to come to Timothy, but he writes so Timothy will know “how one ought to behave in the household of God,” which is the church (1 Timothy 3:14–15). In other words, this is not a detached manual—it’s an urgent, fatherly charge to protect the gospel and shepherd God’s people well (1 Timothy 1:18, 6:20–21).

A key thread through the whole letter is that right doctrine produces real-life change. Paul is not mainly interested in winning arguments; he is concerned that the true gospel leads to love from a pure heart, a good conscience, and sincere faith (1 Timothy 1:5). That’s why he keeps returning to the contrast: false teaching fuels empty speculation and moral collapse, but sound teaching produces visible godliness (1 Timothy 1:3–7, 4:6–16, 6:3–14). Paul anchors this in the message of salvation itself—God’s mercy to sinners in Christ (1 Timothy 1:12–16), the one Mediator who gave Himself as a ransom (1 Timothy 2:5–6), and God’s desire for the gospel to go to all peoples (1 Timothy 2:1–7, 4:10). Because the gospel is true, the church must be shaped by it in worship, leadership, relationships, and everyday conduct.

So Paul gives Timothy practical instructions that flow from the gospel: guard the church’s public worship with prayer, unity, and holiness (1 Timothy 2:1–15); appoint qualified overseers and deacons whose lives display maturity and self-control (1 Timothy 3:1–13); train for godliness and model faithful ministry (1 Timothy 4:6–16); honor and care for people wisely—older and younger, widows, elders, and even slaves—so that love and integrity mark the congregation (1 Timothy 5:1–6:2). He also warns against greed and calls believers to contentment, generosity, and a firm grip on “the faith” (1 Timothy 6:6–19). In the end, 1 Timothy is a clear call to protect the purity of the gospel and to show its power in the day-to-day life of the church—so that God’s household reflects God’s character and Christ’s saving work (1 Timothy 3:15–16).

Titus

Titus is a short pastoral letter from the apostle Paul to his trusted coworker Titus (Titus 1:1, 4). Like 1 Timothy, it’s written to a ministry partner who is helping establish and stabilize young churches, and it strongly links sound faith with godly living—belief and behavior belong together (Titus 1:1, 2:11–14). Though some modern scholars question Paul’s authorship, the letter clearly identifies Paul as its author (Titus 1:1), fits well with Paul’s theology, and was received early in the church as a Pauline, authoritative writing.

The letter is typically dated to the early-to-mid 60s (around A.D. 62–64), during the period after Paul’s first Roman imprisonment and before a later imprisonment that ended in his death (cf. Acts 28:30–31). Paul had recently ministered on the island of Crete and left Titus there to “put what remained into order” by appointing elders in the churches (Titus 1:5). Paul plans to meet Titus in Nicopolis (Titus 3:12), but in the meantime he writes with urgency and clarity, giving Titus marching orders for healthy church life.

A key reason for the letter is the presence of false teachers—especially those with a strong Jewish flavor (“the circumcision party”), who traffic in “myths” and distorted teaching while producing ungodly lives (Titus 1:10–16). Paul’s concern is not just their ideas but their fruit: they “profess to know God, but…deny him by their works” (Titus 1:16). In a culture known for disorder and immorality (Titus 1:12), that kind of “religion” would blend right in. Paul expects the gospel to do the opposite: to create a people whose lives make the message believable and beautiful (Titus 2:5, 8, 10).

So Titus gives a portrait of a healthy church. It starts with godly leadership—elders who are above reproach, able to teach what is true, and able to correct what is false (Titus 1:5–9). It includes firm handling of error and divisiveness (Titus 1:10–16, 3:9–11). And it presses the gospel into everyday life for everyone in the church—older and younger, men and women, and even servants—so that the church’s conduct “adorns” the doctrine of God our Savior (Titus 2:1–10).

At the heart of the letter are two gospel-rich summaries that show why Christian ethics matter. God’s grace has appeared in Jesus to save and to train His people to renounce ungodliness and live self-controlled, upright lives while waiting for Christ’s return—“our great God and Savior Jesus Christ” (Titus 2:11–14). And salvation is not earned by works, but comes by God’s mercy through the washing and renewal of the Holy Spirit—so believers devote themselves to good works as the fitting fruit of grace (Titus 3:4–8, 14). In short, Titus shows that the gospel doesn’t only rescue sinners—it reshapes communities, builds healthy churches, and sends believers into the world with a credible, compelling witness.

2 Timothy

Second Timothy is Paul’s final and most personal pastoral letter to Timothy (2 Timothy 1:1–2). Like 1 Timothy, it addresses ministry in and around Ephesus and the need to guard the gospel against error, but the tone is different: this is a “farewell” letter written with death in view. Paul is imprisoned in Rome again—this time not in relatively open house arrest (Acts 28:16, 30–31), but “chained like a criminal” and expecting execution (2 Timothy 2:9, 4:6–8). Most date it during Nero’s reign, likely in the mid-to-late 60s (about A.D. 64–67).

The heart of the letter is a bold call to persevere in the gospel despite suffering. Paul urges Timothy not to shrink back in fear, not to be ashamed of Christ or of Paul’s chains, and to be willing to suffer for the gospel by God’s power (2 Timothy 1:7–8, 12). Timothy is to guard “the good deposit” of sound teaching “by the Holy Spirit” (2 Timothy 1:13–14), pass that gospel truth on to faithful men who will teach others (2 Timothy 2:2), and do the steady work of ministry even in a hard season (2 Timothy 2:3–7, 4:5).

Because Paul knows time is short, he speaks with clarity about what will threaten Timothy and the church: people who quarrel about words, drift into irreverent babble, and distort the truth (2 Timothy 2:14–18), and a worsening climate of godlessness and opposition in the “last days” (2 Timothy 3:1–9). The primary safeguard is not novelty but Scripture. Timothy is to continue in what he has learned, because the Scriptures are able to make one wise for salvation through faith in Christ, and because “all Scripture is breathed out by God” and equips the servant of God for every good work (2 Timothy 3:14–17).

The letter culminates in Paul’s solemn charge: “preach the word…in season and out of season” with patience and careful teaching (2 Timothy 4:1–5), because a time is coming when many will not endure sound doctrine (2 Timothy 4:3–4). Then, in one of the most moving moments in the New Testament, Paul reflects on his own finished race and sure hope: he is being “poured out,” but he looks ahead to “the crown of righteousness” that the Lord will give to all who love Christ’s appearing (2 Timothy 4:6–8). Even as friends have scattered and only Luke remains (2 Timothy 4:10–11), Paul’s confidence is steady: the Lord will bring him safely into His heavenly kingdom (2 Timothy 4:18). Second Timothy is, in the end, a last word from a spiritual father: hold fast to Christ, treasure the Scriptures, proclaim the gospel, and endure—because Jesus is worth it, and His coming is sure.

Continue reading in our NT260 plan with Phase 3 — Persevering in the Last Day.

Christ Has Come: The Promised King & His Gift of Love” — a Refresh & Restore Bible Study

Romans 5:8 –

…but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.[1]

John 3:16-17 –

16 “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. 17 For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.[2]

1 John 4:9-10 –

9 In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. 10 In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.[3]

Merry Christmas Adam, Sojourners!

Why Christmas Adam, you ask? Well, Adam came before Eve, right? Ba-dum-cha!

I’m somewhat sorry to start with a dad joke, but I am who I am. And even a light moment like this can remind us that Christmas meets us in ordinary, human places before leading us to eternal truths. So, with that smile (hopefully) in place, let’s turn our hearts to deeper things.

As we move toward the culmination of Advent and stand on the threshold of Christmas, we pause once more to reflect on the gifts God has given us in the coming of His Son. Over the past few weeks, we’ve traced the steady unfolding of the gospel through hope, peace, and joy. We’ve seen that our hope rests not in circumstances but in the faithful God who keeps His promises. We’ve seen that true peace was secured when Jesus entered our darkness to reconcile us to God. And we’ve seen that real joy is not manufactured by emotion or ease but springs up where God’s mercy is received and trusted. And if this season finds you carrying grief, sorrow, disappointment, or weariness, there is room for that here. The coming of Jesus doesn’t require us to pretend, perform, or put on a happy face. It invites us to come to Him honestly – needy, heavy-laden, and real – and to find that He meets us with mercy (Matthew 11:28-30, Psalm 34:18, Hebrews 4:15-16).

Now, all of those gifts converge in the love of God.

Christmas is the declaration that God’s love is neither distant nor abstract. It took on flesh (John 1:14). The incarnation is not merely the arrival of a baby in Bethlehem; it is the greatest gift ever given – the Son of God sent for sinners like us. Hope, peace, and joy all find their source and fulfillment in Him because they flow from God’s love revealed in Jesus. Without God’s love, there would be no promise kept, no peace secured, and no joy that lasts. Christmas tells us that love has come near (Hebrews 2:14-18).

In this final study in our Christ Has Come series, we’ll consider how Scripture defines that love – not as sentiment, but as saving action. We’ll briefly walk through three key passages that together give us a clear and faithful picture of the love of God revealed in Christmas: Romans 5:8, where God demonstrates His love for sinners; John 3:16-17, where God gives His Son so the world might be saved; and 1 John 4:9-10, where love is defined – not by our response to God but by God’s initiative toward us. As we do, it’s my prayer that we’ll see that Christmas proclaims this staggeringly simple and gloriously true gospel message: God loves, God gives, and God saves.

God Demonstrates His Love (Romans 5:8)
…but God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

This verse doesn’t merely tell us that God loves – it shows us how He loves. His love is not theoretical. It’s not conditional. It’s demonstrated, proven, and displayed throughout history through the death of Jesus (1 John 3:16).

What makes this love so staggering is when it was shown. Paul explains that Jesus didn’t die for good, righteous people or folks who had earned God’s favor. He died for sinners – ungodly people living in rebellion and enmity against God (Romans 5:6-10). Human love, at its best, may sacrifice for someone we feel is worthy, but God’s love belongs to an entirely different category. While we were still estranged, still guilty, still God’s enemies, still unable to fix or save ourselves, God acted. He moved first in love (1 John 4:19).

And it’s important to see that this wasn’t only the love of the Son for us but also the love of the Father. You see, the cross wasn’t a tragic accident or a reluctant sacrifice – it was God’s loving plan of redemption. God demonstrated His love by sending His Son to die in our place (Romans 8:32). The justice and righteousness of God required that sin be dealt with, and Romans 5:9 reminds us why the cross was necessary: “Since, therefore, we have now been justified by His blood, much more shall we be saved by Him from the wrath of God.” God’s love doesn’t ignore sin or minimize judgment. Rather, love moved God to place His righteous wrath against sin upon His own Son, so that sinners like us could be forgiven, justified, and reconciled to Him.

Romans 5:8 teaches us that God’s love isn’t measured by how we feel in a given moment or how well life is going. It’s anchored in an unchanging historical reality: Jesus died for us. Christmas, then, isn’t sentimental but sacrificial. It points us to the cross, where God’s love is demonstrated fully, finally, and forever.

God Gives His Son (John 3:16-17)
For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through Him.

If Romans 5:8 shows us how God demonstrates His love, John 3:16-17 helps us understand why – and to what end. The cross doesn’t stand alone as an isolated act of love but flows out of the eternal, gracious heart of the Father. Long before nails pierced flesh, love was already moving. God loved, and so God gave.

“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son….” These are probably the most familiar words in all of Scripture, but they lose none of their weight or strength with repetition. They magnify this God-sized love, a love not measured by the size or goodness of the world but in the costliness of the gift He gives. Scripture is clear: God’s love for the world is astonishing not because the world was worthy, but because it was fallen, rebellious, and broken. The wonder of John 3:16 isn’t that God loved something lovable—which would make sense—but that He loved sinners and gave His Son so that they might be saved through Him. That is grace. That is mercy.

And this love isn’t vague. It’s not sentimental. God’s love takes action. He gave His Son – He sent Him into the world to take on flesh, dwell among us, and ultimately to bear the penalty for our sin. The incarnation – Christmas – is an act of love. Christmas tells us that love came near to us, and as we said before, Christmas leads us to the cross, God giving Himself so that sinners might live.

John 3:17 presses this even further because Jesus didn’t enter a morally neutral world awaiting judgment; He entered a world already condemned by sin (John 3:18, 3:36). His first coming wasn’t to add condemnation but to offer rescue (John 12:47). Love sent the Son on a mission of salvation – not ignoring sin but dealing with it fully and finally.

This helps us see the way Christmas and the cross are woven together in God’s redemptive plan. God’s love doesn’t deny judgment but provides salvation from it. The same love that sent Jesus into the world is the love that led Him to lay down His life. And the promise attached to that love is breathtakingly simple: “whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.” God’s love invites trust. It calls for faith. And it offers life – real, eternal life – to all who believe in Him.

If Romans 5:8 shows us that God loved us while we were still sinners, John 3:16-17 shows us that this love has always been purposeful, redemptive, and saving. Love gives. Love sends. Love saves.

God Defines Love (1 John 4:9-10)
In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent His only Son into the world, so that we might live through Him. In this is love, not that we have loved God but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins.

If Romans 5:8 shows us when God loved us and John 3:16-17 shows us why He loved us, 1 John 4:9-10 tells us what love truly is. Scripture doesn’t leave love to our imagination or interpretation. It defines it for us. And it does so by pointing, once again, to God’s action in sending His Son.

John tells us that God’s love was “made manifest” – made visible, made known, made unmistakable. Love didn’t remain hidden in God’s heart or vague in His intentions. It was revealed when God sent His only Son into the world so that we, who were dead in our trespasses and sins, might live through Him (Ephesians 2:1-5). Love isn’t about how we feel toward God but about what God has done for us. “In this is love,” John writes, “Not that we have loved but that God has loved us.” Love begins with God. Love moves toward sinners. Love takes the initiative.

This is where Christmas love often gets misunderstood. We tend to think of love primarily in human terms like affection, warmth, or generosity, but Scripture presses us deeper. God’s love is not only demonstrated in sending His Son – it’s defined by His purpose for sending Him: “to be the propitiation for our sins”[4]. That word matters. Propitiation means that Jesus bore the righteous wrath of God against sin, as we discussed earlier, but it also means that He fully satisfied the demands of God’s holy justice (Romans 3:25-26, Isaiah 53:5-6, 2 Corinthians 5:21). Love didn’t ignore our sin. It didn’t excuse our rebellion against God. Love dealt with sin fully and finally by placing its penalty on a sinless substitute.

This is also why no human comparison or analogy could fully capture what God has done – though it can help us feel the weight of it. As a father – as a daddy, I cannot imagine loving anyone enough to give one of my children in their place. My love for my kids outweighs any value anyone else could ever have in my eyes. And even if I could somehow bring myself to offer such a sacrifice, it wouldn’t do any good. My kiddos, like their daddy, are sinners. They couldn’t atone for anyone’s sin. They couldn’t bear God’s righteous wrath. They, like me, can’t even save themselves. We didn’t need a better example or a more inspiring human being—we needed God’s Son. We needed God to put on flesh and dwell among us, live the sinless life we are incapable of living, and die the death we deserve because of our sin. Only a sinless Savior could stand in the place of sinners (Hebrews 4:15, 1 Peter 3:18). Only Jesus could be the propitiation our sins require.

This is the love Christmas proclaims. God didn’t send His Son because we were lovable. He sent Him because we were lost. He didn’t wait for our love but acted in love first. And He didn’t merely show us affection – He provided atonement. Christmas tells us that love came down, took on flesh, and willingly walked toward the cross so that we might live through Him.

Wrapping Up

As this study comes to a close – and Christmas itself arrives – we’re reminded that the love we’ve been considering isn’t something to admire. It’s something to receive. Christmas isn’t only a message to be believed but a Savior to be trusted. And coming to Jesus doesn’t require you to feel “merry”, to force a smile, or to pretend the season isn’t heavy. There is room in Christ for grief, sorrow, anxiety, and whatever burdens you’re carrying (Psalm 34:18, 1 Peter 5:7). He meets us where we are – and He loves us too much to leave us as we are (Hebrews 4:15-16).

For some, this invitation is especially clear. If you find yourself among the lowly – aware of your need, burdened by guilt, weary from sin, or conscious that you can’t save yourself – Christmas holds out real hope. The love of God has come near to sinners in Jesus, near enough to take hold of. And Scripture tells us plainly how to do that: “if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved” (Romans 10:9). It really is that simple – and that profound. Look away from yourself and toward Jesus and what He has done. Put your trust – your faith – in Him. And if you do, God’s promise stands firm: “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved” (Romans 10:13). What better time to receive Him—and the love that’s been given?

For others, this season is a call not to come for the first time but to remember again. Many of us have been lifted by grace – saved, forgiven, reconciled to God through Christ. And yet even the redeemed can grow weary, distracted, or dulled by the noise of the season. Christmas gently calls us back to the gospel we first believed. It invites us to remember what the Lord has done and to ask Him to remind us again – day by day – of His steadfast love. The love of God in Christ that saved you is the same love that sustains you, comforts you, and carries you forward.

This is the good news Christmas proclaims. Love has come. Love has taken on flesh. Love has walked toward the cross. And love calls sinners to come, believers to remember, and all to rest in Christ – because He is love. So wherever you find yourself this Christmas, lowly or lifted, weary or rejoicing – fix your eyes once more on Jesus. The Promised King has come. And in Him, the greatest gift of love has been given.

[1] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ro 5:8.

[2] ESV, Jn 3:16–17.

[3] ESV, 1 Jn 4:9–10.

[4] Propitiation means that Jesus bore the righteous wrath of God against sin and fully satisfied the demands of God’s holy justice (Romans 3:25–26; Isaiah 53:5–6). At the cross, God did not ignore sin or lower His standard; He dealt with sin completely by placing its penalty on His own Son. Because Jesus satisfied God’s justice, all who trust in Him are justified—declared righteous before God, not because of their works, but because Christ’s righteousness is credited to them (Romans 5:1, 5:9; 2 Corinthians 5:21). This means that God’s love and God’s justice are not in conflict at the cross. In love, God provided what His justice required. Propitiation shows us that salvation is not God choosing between love and holiness, but God expressing both perfectly in Jesus.

Christ Has Come: The Promised King & His Gift of JOY — a Refresh & Restore Bible Study

Luke 1:39-56 –

39 In those days Mary arose and went with haste into the hill country, to a town in Judah, 40 and she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. 41 And when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the baby leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit, 42 and she exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! 43 And why is this granted to me that the mother of my Lord should come to me? 44 For behold, when the sound of your greeting came to my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. 45 And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord.”
46 And Mary said,

“My soul magnifies the Lord,
47 and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
48 for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.
For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
49 for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
50 And his mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
51 He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;
52 he has brought down the mighty from their thrones
and exalted those of humble estate;
53 he has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.
54 He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
55 as he spoke to our fathers,
to Abraham and to his offspring forever.”

56 And Mary remained with her about three months and returned to her home. [1]

Merry Christmas, Sojourners!

As we move deeper into this Advent/Christmas season, I keep coming back to the way the Lord trains our hearts through the gifts He gives. He doesn’t just announce that His Son has come – He teaches us to receive Him.

In our first study in this series, we focused on hope – the kind of hope that doesn’t rest on circumstances but on the faithful God who keeps His promises, even through brokenness and waiting. In the second study, we turned to peace – not a thin calm or temporary quiet, but the steady peace Jesus secured by entering our darkness, reconciling us to God, and holding us fast through every season.

Now, we come to joy – and we pause. We need to know what it is – and what it isn’t.

Biblical joy is deeper than a mood or feeling. It’s not the fleeting and ever-changing “happiness” our world tries to chase and manufacture. In Scripture, joy is gladness rooted in God – gladness that can exist even when life is still hard, even when answers are still unfolding. The New Testament word often translated “joy” can describe the rejoicing God inspires, and it can even describe the occasion or grounds for joy – what joy is built on and rises out of (Luke 2:10, Romans 14:17).[2] That’s why biblical joy isn’t fragile. It isn’t dependent on a perfect day or easy circumstances. It grows where mercy takes root, where pride is lowered, where need is admitted, and where God is trusted.

We can miss it if we move too quickly through the Christmas story. In Luke’s Christmas narrative, joy arrives before the word shows up when the shepherds hear “good news of great joy” (Luke 2:10). Months before Bethlehem, joy is already stirring in the hill country of Judea. A baby, filled with the Holy Spirit, leaps for joy in the womb (Luke 1:44). A woman, filled with the Holy Spirit, blesses the mother of her Lord (Luke 1:41-43). And that young mother, Mary – lowly, standing at the beginning of a road she doesn’t yet understand – rejoices in God her Savior (Luke 1:46-47). Joy was already breaking through the darkness, because Jesus was already there!

Luke 1:39-56, our passage for today, shows us that the joy of Christ is grounded in God’s unfolding mercy – mercy that humbles the proud, lifts the lowly, feeds the hungry, and keeps covenant promises stretching all the way back to Abraham (Luke 1:50-55; Genesis 12:1-3, 17:7; Micah 7:18-20). We see this joy in the song Mary sings. The song is deeply personal but not small. It echoes the hope of Hannah long before her (1 Samuel 2:1-10), and it reaches forward to the Kingdom her baby will grow and usher in – a Kingdom where God’s grace reverses what sin has marred, and where the Savior lifts those who put their faith in Him (Luke 4:18-19, 6:20-23; Isaiah 61:1-3).

In Luke 1:39-56, we’ll see that joy is not something Mary manufactures or inspires in others – it’s something God gives as His mercy begins to unfold. We’ll begin by looking at the original context and setting of Mary’s visit to her relative Elizabeth, where joy first breaks through the silence in unexpected ways. Then we’ll listen carefully to Mary’s song – known as the Magnificat, where joy rises from a heart overwhelmed not with herself, but with her God and His mercy. From there, we’ll see how this song points beyond Mary to Jesus Himself – the coming King who fulfills God’s promises and brings lasting joy. And finally, we’ll consider what this passage teaches us about the gift of joy God gives to the lowly and the lifted, to those who know their need of Him and trust His Word.

Original Context & Setting: Joy Breaks the Silence (vv. 39-45)

Luke tells us that “in those days” Mary rose and went “with haste” into the hill country of Judea to visit her relative Elizabeth (Luke 1:39). This small phrase links what follows directly to the angel’s announcement (Luke 1:26-38). Mary doesn’t linger in Nazareth to sort out the social consequences of her pregnancy or demand clarity about her and the baby’s future. Instead, she moves forward in faith (v. 38). She goes to see the sign God Himself had given her: her much older relative Elizabeth, once barren, is now six months pregnant by God’s grace and power (Luke 1:36-37).

Their meeting is inconsequential by worldly standards. No crowds gather. No rulers take notice. Yet this is one of the most theologically rich encounters in all of Scripture. Two miraculous pregnancies meet. Two stories of God’s mercy intersect. And joy erupts before a single word is spoken.

When Mary greets Elizabeth, John the Baptist leaps in his mother’s womb (v. 41). Luke – the physician – is careful to explain that this is no ordinary movement, and Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit, interprets it for us: “the baby in my womb leaped for joy” (v. 44). Even before his birth, John fulfills his calling to prepare the way of the Lord as he recognizes and announces the presence of the Messiah in utero (Luke 1:17, 76; Malachi 3:1; Isaiah 40:3). Joy breaks out not because circumstances are easy, but because Jesus is near.

Elizabeth is then filled with the Spirit herself and cries out in a loud voice, pronouncing Mary “blessed among women”, not for who she is but because of the Child she carries – “blessed is the fruit of your womb” (v. 42). Then, Elizabeth goes further calling Mary “the mother of my Lord” (v. 43). This is a staggering confession. Months before Bethlehem, months before angels sing to shepherd, Jesus is confessed as Lord by a Holy Spirit-filled woman and acknowledged by a Spirit-filled unborn child. The joy here is deeply Christ-centered, not found in Mary but magnifying the Son.

Finally, Elizabeth speaks a blessing that turns our attention to Mary’s response to God’s Word: “Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord” (v. 45). That emphasis on faith matters, especially when we remember that this moment follows a season of silence brought on by unbelief. The Spirit-inspired words spoken through Elizabeth stand in quiet contrast to her husband Zechariah’s earlier doubts, which left him unable to speak until God’s promise began to unfold just as He had said (Luke 1:18–20, 64).[3]

At this point in the Christmas narrative, Mary doesn’t yet see the full shape of God’s plan, but she trusts the God who spoke. And in a time when God had been silent for centuries, His Word breaking forth again was no small thing (Amos 8:11-12). Even though Mary didn’t know how all of this would work out, God was already showing her that He was with her on the journey (Matthew 1:23). We begin to see here that joy doesn’t wait for completion or a finish line. It doesn’t require resolution. It doesn’t depend on our full comprehension of what’s going on or how things will turn out. Joy springs up where God’s Word is believed (Psalm 119:111, Jeremiah 15:16).

Now, the word “joy” doesn’t appear here, but it is already present – present in the leaping child, the Spirit-filled confession of Jesus as Lord, and in Mary’s quiet faith in God’s promise. And it is out of this joy that Mary’s song will rise – not as a sudden emotional outburst, but as a thoughtful, Scripture-shaped response to the mercy of God at work in her life.

The Joy of God’s Mercy in the Magnificat (vv. 46-55)

When Mary finally speaks, she doesn’t begin with explanations, questions, or fear. She begins with worship. Luke tells us, “And Mary said…” (v. 46), and what follows is not a spontaneous emotional overflow but a carefully shaped song, steeped in Scripture and centered on God. This song, as I have mentioned, is known as the Magnificat, named after its opening word in Latin, drawn from Mary’s opening declaration: “My soul magnifies the Lord.” And that opening line sets the tone for everything that follows.

Mary’s joy in this song is not focused on herself. She’s not magnifying her experience, her obedience, or her unique role in human and redemptive history. She magnifies the Lord. Her joy is vertical before it’s personal. She magnifies her Lord and her “spirit rejoices in God [her] Savior” (vv. 46-47). In humility, she calls God her Savior, acknowledging her sin and need for God’s mercy. Joy grows where pride is lessened and God’s grace is welcomed.

She goes on to explain why her soul rejoices: God has looked upon her “humble estate” (v. 48). Mary wasn’t wealthy, powerful, or impressive by any worldly standards. She was young, obscure, and vulnerable. Yet God has seen her. The joy she experiences isn’t rooted in her being chosen because she was worthy, but in being shown mercy despite her lowliness.

From there, Mary’s song widens. What God has done for her personally reveals something true about His character universally. “Holy is His name,” she declares, and “His mercy is for those who fear Him from generation to generation” (vv. 49-50, Exodus 34:6-7, Psalm 103:17). Joy, in Mary’s song, is never detached from who God is. It flows from His holiness, His power, and especially His mercy. This isn’t a one-time act of kindness but a continuation of what God has been unfolding throughout history and continues to unfold today.

As the song continues, Mary celebrates the great reversal God brings—scattering the proud, bringing down the mighty, exalting the humble, filling the hungry, and sending the rich away empty (vv. 51–53, 1 Samuel 2:6-8). These words are not political slogans or rhetoric but theological declarations. Mary rejoices in the way God’s mercy turns worldly values upside down (1 Corinthians 1:27-28). Joy comes not to those who trust in their own strength—because human strength fails and fades—but to those who know their need and look to God to strengthen and save.

Finally, Mary anchors her joy in God’s faithfulness to His promises. He has helped His servant Israel, remembering His mercy “as He spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to his offspring forever” (vv. 54-55; Genesis 12:1-3, 22:17-18). Her joy rests in God’s covenant faithfulness to His people (Deuteronomy 7:9). God was doing in Mary what He had promised long ago. The mercy unfolding in her womb is connected to promises stretching back generations, all the way to Genesis and Abraham. And she rejoices in the assurance that the God who spoke to her keeps His Word.

This is what makes the Magnificat so magnificent. Mary’s joy is deeply personal but not private. It’s shaped by Scripture, grounded in God’s mercy, and oriented toward His purposes and plan rather than her own. She doesn’t rejoice because she experienced an influx of health, wealth, and prosperity as some falsely promise; she rejoices because God is doing exactly what He said He’d do. And this kind of joy – joy rooted in mercy and tempered in humility and faith – prepares us to see the true significance of the Child she carries. Because Mary’s song does not end with her; it presses us forward to the work this Child has come to accomplish.

Fulfillment in Jesus, the Coming King

In the last two weeks, we’ve looked a lot at Old Testament references in Matthew’s genealogy of Jesus and in the prophecy from Isaiah. It took some work to flesh out the promises of God and show their fulfillment in Jesus. Luke 1:39-56 is much easier because Jesus is already there in Mary’s womb (Luke 1:31-33, Galatians 4:4).

The promises Mary celebrates are no longer distant or abstract. They aren’t waiting centuries to be fulfilled. They are present, personal, and alive in the Child she carries. The mercy she sings about has taken on flesh (John 1:14). The King she rejoices in is not merely promised – He is already at work, even before He is born (Luke 1:35, Matthew 1:21).

This is what makes Mary’s joy so striking. She’s not rejoicing in who Jesus will one day become, but in who He already is. The reversals she proclaims – the proud scattered, the lowly lifted, the hungry filled – are not wishful thinking or poetic exaggeration but the certain outworking of God’s mercy now embodied in her Child. Luke has already told us who this Child is. The angel Gabriel announced that He would be given “the throne of His father David”, that He would reign forever, and that “of His Kingdom there will be no end” (Luke 1:32-33, 2 Samuel 7:12-13, Isaiah 9:6-7). Those promises stand quietly behind every line of the Magnificat. When Mary sings of God helping His servant Israel and remembering His mercy (v. 54), she is rejoicing in the arrival of the long-awaited King who would finally do what no earthly ruler – even her ancestor King David – could: bring salvation, righteousness, and lasting joy (Jeremiah 23:5-6, Zechariah 9:9).

Jesus fulfills everything expressed in Mary’s song. The proud are scattered as human self-sufficiency is exposed by grace (Luke 18:9-14). The mighty are brought low as the true King enters the world unnoticed and lives a life culminating in the cross (Luke 19:38, 23:33; Philippians 2:6-8). The hungry are filled as Jesus offers Himself as the Bread of Life to those who know their need (Luke 6:20-21, John 6:35). And those who cling to wealth, status, and self-righteousness are sent away empty because they refuse to partake of the mercy He so freely gives (Luke 12:15, 18:24-25).

The mercy Mary rejoices in here reaches its fullest expression at the cross, a reality that would one day pierce her own heart (Luke 2:34-35). There, the lowly are lifted, sinners are forgiven, and the proud illusion of being able to earn righteousness collapses. Jesus is not a mere announcement of God’s mercy – He becomes its means, bearing sin and the wrath of God due for it, and reconciling sinners to God (Luke 22:19–20, Romans 5:8–11, Isaiah 53:4-6, 2 Corinthians 5:21). Mary’s joy isn’t sentimental; it’s anchored in the coming sacrifice of her Son.

Thankfully, the sacrifice she would later witness was not the end. The resurrection she would also witness confirms that her joy was well-founded (Luke 24:1-8, Acts 1:14). God keeps His promises (Hebrews 10:23). The King lives. Jesus rises, reigns, and continues to extend the mercy she sang about – gathering the lowly, forgiving the guilty, and bringing true joy to all who trust in Him. This means Mary’s song was not simply a celebration for what God had done for her, but a declaration of what God had begun to do for the world. The Child in her womb is the King who fulfills every promise, secures lasting joy, and proves once and for all that God’s mercy never fails.

Wrapping Up

We’ve talked a lot about joy today, and, if I’m honest, I find myself longing to feel more of that joy myself. Thankfully, biblical joy is more than a feeling. Feelings ebb and flow, changing with circumstances and surroundings. But joy, biblical joy, is found – just as it was with Elizabeth, John the Baptist, and Mary in Luke 1:39-56 – in the presence of Jesus. It is found fixing our eyes on Him and lifting our entire worldview toward Him, seeking what is above rather than being hijacked by all of the bad this fallen world has to offer (Colossians 3:1-4, Hebrews 12:2).

The joy found in Jesus is available today. He brings joy for the lowly and the lifted.

The lowly are those who know their need – who don’t pretend to have it all together, who feel the weight of weakness, guilt, grief, and sin. Like Mary, they may feel insignificant, overlooked, or uncertain about the road ahead. But as Mary taught us, God looks upon our humble estates. He fills the hungry. He draws near to those who fear Him and trust His Word. For the lowly, the joy of Christ isn’t ignoring or denying hardship or difficulty – it’s the assurance that God sees, God keeps His promises, and God is at work even when we can’t see the outcome.

If that’s you today – if you feel lowly, burdened, or aware of your need – Scripture holds out a clear and gracious invitation. The same Jesus who brought joy to Elizabeth and Mary calls you to confess him as Lord and believe that He is who God says He is in His Word. Romans 10:9 makes this clear: “if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.” It’s not complicated. It’s not earned. It’s trusting Him. It’s faith (Ephesians 2:8-9). And just as it was for them, Jesus is enough.

The lifted are those God raises up by grace. To be lifted by God is not the same thing as being elevated by the world. The lifted are not those who boast in strength, status, or success but those who have been brought low enough to receive mercy. They are forgiven, reconciled, redeemed – and they know that this status is a gift from God by grace through faith in Jesus (Titus 3:4-7, Colossians 1:13-14).

If you find yourself here today – resting in Christ, walking in forgiveness, knowing the mercy He has shown you – this passage invites you not to move on from joy but to return to it again and again – to ask the Lord to remind you of what He has done, to renew your wonder in worshiping Him, and to meet you each day with new mercies (Lamentations 3:23, Hebrews 4:16). Joy deepens as we remember what Jesus has done and entrust ourselves to Him daily.

Joy is not something we can manufacture. It’s something we receive. And it grows wherever Jesus is trusted. May the joy of God’s mercy – secured by Christ our King – take root in your heart and rise in praise, just as it did in Mary’s song.

[1] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Lk 1:39–56.

[2] Chará (χαρά) is commonly used for “joy/rejoicing,” and can also mean the cause/occasion/ground of joy (e.g., Luke 2:10; Rom. 14:17). | Spiros Zodhiates, The Complete Word Study Dictionary: New Testament (Chattanooga, TN: AMG Publishers, 2000).

[3] Zechariah questioned how he could be sure God would give him a son citing that he was “an old man” and Elizabeth was “advanced in years” (Luke 1:18). Because he didn’t believe the angel’s word, he was made mute until “the day that these things take place” (Luke 1:20), and his speech returned when John was named, just as God had promised (Luke 1:57-64). Although the text makes no reference to it, Zechariah would have been mute during the entirety of Mary’s visit to their home.

Songs for Sunday, December 14, 2025 @ Christ Community Church (Advent Week 3)

It’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming — and that’s reason to rejoice!

As we move deeper into the Advent season, this week joy is our focus. This joy was first announced by the angels on the night of Jesus’s birth as “good news of great joy” (Luke 2:10). From the beginning, Christmas joy has never been about circumstances — it has always been about the Savior.

The book of Hebrews helps us see just how deep that joy runs. We are told in Hebrews 12:2 to fix our eyes on Jesus, “who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” Advent joy is rooted in the finished work of Jesus — the King who came, suffered, and now reigns. It’s a joy that is stead and secure because it rests on what Jesus has already accomplished.

Earlier today, our pastor, John Goldwater, shared his excitement about preaching this Sunday and encouraged us to read Hebrews 10:1-18 to prepare our hearts. That passage reminds us that Jesus is the true and final sacrifice — the King whose once-for-all offering truly cleanses us and brings us near to God. So, let’s read it and meditate on it, preparing our hearts to gather and worship JESUS:

1For the law, having a shadow of the good things to come, and not the very image of the things, can never with these same sacrifices, which they offer continually year by year, make those who approach perfect. 2For then would they not have ceased to be offered? For the worshipers, once purified, would have had no more consciousness of sins. 3But in those sacrifices there is a reminder of sins every year. 4For it is not possible that the blood of bulls and goats could take away sins.
5Therefore, when He came into the world, He said: “Sacrifice and offering You did not desire, But a body You have prepared for Me. 6In burnt offerings and sacrifices for sin You had no pleasure. 7Then I said, ‘Behold, I have come—In the volume of the book it is written of Me—To do Your will, O God.’”
8Previously saying, “Sacrifice and offering, burnt offerings, and offerings for sin You did not desire, nor had pleasure in them” (which are offered according to the law), 9then He said, “Behold, I have come to do Your will, O God.” He takes away the first that He may establish the second. 10By that will we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.
11And every priest stands ministering daily and offering repeatedly the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins. 12But this Man, after He had offered one sacrifice for sins forever, sat down at the right hand of God, 13from that time waiting till His enemies are made His footstool. 14For by one offering He has perfected forever those who are being sanctified.
15But the Holy Spirit also witnesses to us; for after He had said before, 16“This is the covenant that I will make with them after those days, says the Lord: I will put My laws into their hearts, and in their minds I will write them,” 17then He adds, “Their sins and their lawless deeds I will remember no more.” 18Now where there is remission of these, there is no longer an offering for sin.

This sort of preparation gets at the heart of these “Songs for Sunday” posts. We share them to help Christ Community folks prepare — to read the Scriptures ahead of time, to become familiar with the songs we’ll sing, and to come ready to worship together. Lord willing, we’ll gather as a people prepared — full of joy, fixed on Christ, and eager to make much of Jesus the King, the One who has come and who is coming again!

We’d love for you to gather with us this Sunday at Christ Community as we sing, read God’s Word, hear God’s Word opened in preaching, and rejoice together in Jesus.

Won’t you come?

Here are our Scriptures, songs, and Advent readings:

  • Advent Reading | Joy —

The candle of joy reminds us of the angels’ announcement of “good news of great joy” at Jesus’s birth (Luke 2:10), and we see in Hebrews that the fullness of that joy is found in Jesus. We are told in Hebrews 12:2 to fix our eyes on Jesus “who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame”, and who is now “seated at the right hand of the throne of God”. The joy of Christmas is rooted in the finished work of Jesus, the God who saves.
In a world of temporary happiness and shifting circumstances, the joy found in Jesus is steady and secure. His birth, His life, His death, and His resurrection inspire and instill a joy that no situation can take away. As this candle shines, let us turn our eyes from things that fade and fix our eyes on Jesus and find joy in His salvation.

4And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, 5to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. 6And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. 7And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.
8And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. 10And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. 12And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.”

1Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, 2looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.

Christ Has Come: The Promised King & His Gift of PEACE — a Refresh & Restore Bible Study

Isaiah 9:1-7 –

9:1 But there will be no gloom for her who was in anguish. In the former time he brought into contempt the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the latter time he has made glorious the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations.

2 The people who walked in darkness
have seen a great light;
those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness,
on them has light shone.
3 You have multiplied the nation;
you have increased its joy;
they rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest,
as they are glad when they divide the spoil.
4 For the yoke of his burden,
and the staff for his shoulder,
the rod of his oppressor,
you have broken as on the day of Midian.
5 For every boot of the tramping warrior in battle tumult
and every garment rolled in blood
will be burned as fuel for the fire.
6 For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given;
and the government shall be upon his shoulder,
and his name shall be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
7 Of the increase of his government and of peace
there will be no end,
on the throne of David and over his kingdom,
to establish it and to uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
from this time forth and forevermore.
The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this.[1]

Merry Christmas, Sojourners!

As we move deeper into this Advent season, I have found myself meditating on what we saw in last week’s Bible study – the stunning grace of a God who entered the world through a broken family line to bring us the gift of hope. Advent has a way of slowing us down and lifting our eyes, reminding us that our hope isn’t rooted in circumstances but in the faithfulness of the God who keeps His promises.

This week, we turn from hope to peace. And just like with hope, the peace God gives isn’t thin or sentimental. It isn’t the quiet that comes when life stops spinning, nor is it the fragile feeling we try to hold on to when things seem manageable for a moment. The world can offer distraction, comfort, and brief periods of calm in our chaos – but none of it lasts. We’re all acquainted with this truth all too well. Our hearts get restless. Our minds get loud. The world around us trembles with conflict and fear. And even when we long for peace, we can’t seem to create it or find it on our own.

The peace God gives is different. It doesn’t come from escaping the brokenness of the world but from the presence of the One who entered it. Scripture tells us that the eternal Son took on flesh and blood so He could break the power of death and free us from fear (Hebrews 2:14-15). He is the One who “became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14), stepping into our weakness and struggle so He could reconcile us to God and give us the kind of peace nothing in the world can (or even wants) to imitate – a lasting, perfect peace, a peace secured by His own life, death, and resurrection.

This is what we need to remember: peace isn’t found in our circumstances but in Christ Himself. Peace is not a feeling. Peace is a Person. And He has come.

Isaiah 9:1-7, a familiar reading at Christmas time, points us to this truth beautifully. Isaiah brought these words into a land covered in deep darkness, a people crushed by the weight of fear, oppression, and uncertainty. Yet into that darkness, God spoke through Isaiah to promise light, joy, freedom, and rest – all bound up in the coming of a Child who would be King. All of those familiar titles – Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace – push our gaze toward Jesus. He is the Wonderful Counselor whose wisdom never fails. He is the Mighty God whose strength and divinity never wavers. He is the Everlasting Father who cares for His people with perfect compassion. And He, Jesus, is the Prince of Peace whose reign brings an end to the turmoil within and around us.

Today, as we dive into this passage together, we’re going to see the darkness of Isaiah’s day (and ours), the brilliance of God’s promise, and the fullness of its fulfillment in Jesus. And, Lord willing, we’re going to see why the peace of Jesus isn’t temporary or fragile but strong enough to steady our lives in every season – even and especially the one we’re in. Let’s get in the Word together and behold the Promised King who brings peace to His people.

Original Context: The Darkness & the Promise (Isaiah 8-9)

When Isaiah first spoke these words, he was preaching to a people standing on the edge of collapse. The northern tribes of Zebulun and Naphtali had already felt the crushing weight of the Assyrian Empire — their homes were devastated, their land seized (2 Kings 15:29), and their hope draining. Spiritually, the nation was in bad shape, too. Instead of turning to the Lord, they turned to anything but Him – mediums, whispers of the dead, worldly wisdom, and their own fearful imaginations (Isaiah 8:19-22). The result was exactly what God told them it would be: deeper darkness, heavier gloom, and a people walking without direction or peace (Isaiah 8:22).

This is the backdrop for Isaiah 9:1-7: darkness, suffering, and a people who cannot save themselves. But it’s into this darkness that God shines a light and speaks hope: “But there will be no gloom for her who was in anguish” (v. 1).

The places hit the hardest – Zebulun, Naphtali, and Galilee – would be very the places where God’s salvation would first appear. In other words, the lowest places would become the brightest. The lands most humiliated by Assyria would become the launch point for God’s redeeming work. Matthew later tells us that this is where Jesus’s public ministry began here, fulfilling Isaiah’s prophecy (Matthew 4:12-16)[2]. The people who walked in darkness saw a great light because the Light Himself arrived.

The language of this prophecy was specifically given so that Israel would understand. He spoke of light breaking in, joy overflowing, burdens snapped, and oppression shattered so that they’d know the God who broke Egypt at the Red Sea (Exodus 14:13-31) and crushed Midian under Gideon (Judges 7:19-25) would step in again and fight for His people. Only this time, the battle would look different. Israel needed more than physical and political rescue – they needed peace, real, lasting peace. Their true enemy was bigger than Assyria, the darkness thicker than invading armies, the oppression heavier than military threat. They needed God Himself to step in and help them. And that’s when Isaiah says something entirely unexpected – something that would have sounded unbelievable to anyone relying on human strength: God’s victory would not come through a general or a warrior or a king but through a Child.

This would be no ordinary child but a Child who is also the Son – fully human (“a child is born”) and fully divine (“a son is given”), a reality affirmed throughout Scripture (John 1:1, Colossians 2:9). He would be their Wonderful Counselor, providing wisdom beyond their understanding. He would come as their Mighty God, the Warrior who cannot be defeated, even by death. He would come as their Everlasting Father, faithfully loving and protecting His own. And He would come as their Prince of Peace, the only One able to end the conflict around and within them. His government wouldn’t rise and fall like the kingdoms of the world. His reign would not waver. The peace He brings will never end. And Isaiah ends the prophecy with the foundation of this promise: “The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this” (v. 7).

This is the same hope given then and now – not a hope in human effort, political strength, or temporary solutions, but in the God who Himself brings peace through His promised King.

Prophecy Fulfilled in the Child Who is King (vv. 2-6)

When Isaiah gave the stunning announcement of this coming Child with all these divine titles, it should have definitely had the reader or hearer’s attention. In the midst of darkness, God promised a King whose wisdom, strength, care, and peace would outshine every failed ruler before Him. And everything in that promise – every title, every hope, every glimpse of light – points us straight to Jesus.

We’ve already seen how Matthew tells us that Jesus intentionally began His public ministry in the region Isaiah talked about in Isaiah 9, but Isaiah’s prophecy wasn’t simply to predict where the Messiah would appear – it was ultimately to reveal who the Messiah would be. Every title He spoke was like a window opening toward Bethlehem, Nazareth, Calvary, and the empty tomb. Every title anticipated a Messiah far greater than any king Judah (or Israel) had ever known.

Isaiah said the Child would be our Wonderful Counselor, one whose wisdom far surpasses human understanding. In Jesus, that promise becomes flesh. He’s not offering good advice but embodying the very wisdom of God (Isaiah 11:2, Colossians 2:3). When He speaks, storms still, demons flee, and blind (and confused) people finally see clearly. He’s the Counselor whose plans never fail and whose guidance leads to life.

Isaiah called Him Mighty God – a title Isaiah later uses for the LORD Himself (Isaiah 10:21). In Jesus, we see that divine strength fully displayed. He is the Warrior who breaks the real yoke of oppression – sin, death, and the devil – freeing His people in a way no earthly deliverer ever could (Hebrews 2:14-15). His miracles weren’t’ mere spectacles but signs revealing His true identity: Emmanuel, God with us (Matthew 1:23).

Isaiah called Him Everlasting Father, the King whose rule is marked by faithful, fatherly care for His people. Jesus embodies this perfectly as the Shepherd who knows His sheep, protects them, provides for them, and never abandons them (John 10:11-15). Unlike the kings Judah had known – even the best ones, His compassion never falters, His reign doesn’t waver, and His care doesn’t end.

And Isaiah proclaimed that Jesus would be the Prince of Peace – the ruler who establishes true wholeness and reconciliation. Jesus fulfills this not by silencing earthly conflict but by reconciling sinners to God (Colossians 1:19-20). His peace is not fragile or temporary but the deep, restoring peace of being made right with God and living under the reign of a King who does not rise or fall with the shifting tides of history (John 18:36).

Isaiah finishes by saying that the increase of this King’s government and peace will never end, and that it will be accomplished by the “zeal of the LORD” Himself (v. 7). And that is exactly what we see in Jesus. His Kingdom does not come through human effort or political force but through the unstoppable, sovereign purpose of God. His reign expands not by military conquest but by changing hearts, rescuing sinners, and bringing people from every tribe and tongue into His eternal peace (Revelation 7:9-10).

In Jesus, every thread of Isaiah’s prophecy is woven into a perfect tapestry. The Child who was promised is the King who has come – and the King who is coming again.

The Gift of Peace for a Restless People (vv. 6-7)

When Isaiah announced that the coming King would be the Prince of Peace, he wasn’t offering Israel kind words or a soothing sentiment. He was announcing a peace that they were incapable of creating and their enemies couldn’t steal. Israel’s history had been chock full of conflict, fear, and instability – more than they could recount. Assyria was looming over them, their leaders had failed them, their hearts condemned them. What they needed, though, wasn’t calmer days or different politics or religious outcomes but a different kind of King – One whose very presence brings the peace our hearts were made for.

That’s what Jesus gives. When He entered the world, He didn’t arrive into a quiet nursery but into a world trembling with the same darkness Isaiah described. From the very beginning of His life, peace came not by avoiding brokenness but by stepping right into the middle of it. Scripture tells us that Jesus “made peace by the blood of His cross” (Colossians 1:20), offering reconciliation no earthly leader could ever achieve. The conflict between sinners and holy God is the deepest unrest in the universe, and Jesus made a way for it to be resolved once and for all.

But His peace doesn’t stop at reconciliation. Isaiah promised a peace that would increase without end (v. 7), and that is the very peace Jesus continues to give His people today. He speaks peace into fearful hearts: “Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid” (John 14:27). He breathes peace into weary disciples who don’t know where to turn (John 20:19). He offers rest to those crushed by their own sin and striving: “Come to me…and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). His peace isn’t the result of everything around us settling down – it’s the result of Jesus Himself holding us fast!

And here is the miracle Isaiah got a glimpse of centuries before: the government of this peace rests on His shoulders, not ours. Its increase depends on His power, not our performance. He is the Wonderful Counselor who guides us when we’re confused, the Mighty God who keeps us when we’re weak, the Everlasting Father who comforts us when we’re hurting, and the Prince of peace who steadies us when the world shakes beneath us. If our peace depended on us, it would crumble. But, no, it depends solely on Him – His character, His reign, His finished work. That is why this peace can guard our hearts and minds even “in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7).

His peace isn’t fragile; it’s not seasonal; it’s not momentary. It is strong enough for the real world – for doctor visits and financial strain, for family tension and anxious nights, for wandering thoughts and restless souls. It is a peace that shines into our darkest valleys the same way it shone in Galilee’s gloom 2,000 years ago – a peace that doesn’t deny the darkness but breaks it – a peace that will one day fill the whole earth when the King returns and makes all things new (Isaiah 43:18-19; Revelation 21:5).

Wrapping Up

Isaiah 9 doesn’t give us a fairy tale to escape into; it gives us a Savior to anchor ourselves in. The Promised King has come, and the peace He brings is as real today as it was on the night the angels sang, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth among those with whom He is pleased!” (Luke 2:14) That peace is for you – not someday, not theoretically, but right now, in the very places where your heart feels most restless. And the reason this peace is possible is because the Prince of Peace has come – and the same Jesus who entered our darkness then is One who promises to be with us always (Matthew 28:20).

This is what Advent keeps teaching us: peace isn’t found in the stillness of circumstances but in the nearest of Christ. The government of peace rests on His shoulders, not ours. Its increase depends on His power, not our performance. If you’ve never trusted Him – if peace has always felt out of reach – hear the good news Scripture gives: Jesus has come to seek and save the lost. He is approachable. Call on Him. Trust Him. Let Him bring His peace. And if Jesus has saved you, take heart in the beautiful truth that His peace is anchored in His unchanging presence and unfailing promises. And “He who promised is faithful” (Hebrews 10:23). He has redeemed you, He is with you, and He will come again for you. So, fix your eyes on Him. Rest in what He’s done. Rejoice in what He’s doing. And let the peace of our Promised King steady your heart now and in every season to come.

[1] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Is 9:1–7.

[2] Matthew records Jesus quoting Isaiah 9:1-2, showing that region to be where the Light of the world began His ministry and illustrating how God was reversing Israel’s story in Christ and honoring the place once brought low (just as He said He would).

NT260 | Phase 2.3 — The Savior, His Church, and the Mission

This phase will have us reading about Jesus’s life in the gospel of Luke, the formation of the Church in Acts, and walk through the theology found in Paul’s letters that the Church needs to know about and live out the eternal life given by grace through faith in Jesus.

Below, you’ll find brief synopses of each book in this phase to help you understand the scope of the book and most importantly, how it fits into the full Story of the Bible.

When you click on each day’s link, you will find a link to audio, a summary of the chapter, a key verse from the chapter, and opportunities for reflection and outreach.

We’re moving into Paul’s epistles, which we’ll go through chronologically rather than in the order they appear in our Bibles.

2 Corinthians

Paul writes 2 Corinthians after a painful season with the church in Corinth. Some had challenged his integrity and authority, and the church was divided. When Titus brought news that many had repented, Paul responded with this deeply personal letter (2 Corinthians 7:5–16). He defends his ministry not by boasting in strength but by pointing to his suffering and God’s comfort: “the Father of mercies and God of all comfort” meets us in affliction so we can comfort others (2 Corinthians 1:3–7). Paul explains that his trials don’t disprove his calling—they display Christ’s life in a fragile jar of clay (2 Corinthians 4:7–12, 12:9–10).

The letter moves through pastoral appeals and rich teaching. Paul announces the glory of the new covenant, where the Spirit gives life and transforms believers into Christ’s image (2 Corinthians 3:6, 17–18). He proclaims reconciliation: in Christ, God makes us new and entrusts to us the message of reconciliation—“be reconciled to God” (2 Corinthians 5:17–21). He urges holiness and wholehearted devotion to the Lord (2 Corinthians 6:14–7:1), calls the church to forgive and restore the repentant (2 Corinthians 2:5–8), and encourages generous giving for the saints in need (2 Corinthians 8–9). In the closing chapters, he confronts false apostles and “boasts” in his weaknesses so that Christ’s power might be seen (2 Corinthians 11:23–30, 12:9).

In the story of salvation, 2 Corinthians shows how God’s strength shines through human weakness. The crucified and risen Christ brings a new creation, writes His law on our hearts by the Spirit, and sends us as ambassadors of His grace (2 Corinthians 3:3, 5:17–20). Until we stand before Christ’s judgment seat, we live by faith—not by sight—seeking to please Him, comfort His people, and spread the aroma of His gospel in the world (2 Corinthians 5:7–10, 2:14–17).

Romans

Paul wrote Romans around A.D. 57 while he was in Corinth, near the end of his third missionary journey (Romans 16:1–2, 23; Acts 20:2–3). He addressed the letter to believers in Rome—a church he had not yet visited but deeply desired to see (Romans 1:10–13). The Roman church was made up of both Jews and Gentiles, and tensions had developed over how God’s law, faith, and daily Christian living fit together (Romans 14:1–15:7). Paul wrote to explain the gospel clearly, to unite the church around that gospel, and to prepare them to partner with him in future mission work, especially his planned journey to Spain (Romans 15:22–24).

At the heart of Romans is the gospel—the good news that God’s righteousness is revealed through Jesus Christ (Romans 1:16–17). Paul shows that all people, without exception, are sinners in need of salvation—both Jews under the law and Gentiles without it (Romans 1:18–3:20). No one is made right with God by works; instead, sinners are justified by grace through faith in Christ alone (Romans 3:21–26, 4:16). Using Abraham as an example, Paul explains that God’s promise has always been received by faith, not earned by obedience (Romans 4:1–5, 23–25). Jesus’s death and resurrection stand at the very center of God’s saving plan (Romans 5:6–11).

Romans also explains what the gospel accomplishes in the life of the believer. Those who are united to Christ are no longer slaves to sin but are given new life through the Holy Spirit (Romans 6:4–14, 8:1–11). Believers now live with peace with God, assurance of salvation, and a certain hope of future glory—even in suffering (Romans 5:1–5, 8:18–39). Paul addresses the difficult question of Israel’s place in God’s plan, showing that God is faithful to His promises and sovereign in salvation, working all things according to His mercy and wisdom (Romans 9–11).

In the story of salvation, Romans shows how God’s Old Testament promises are fulfilled in Jesus and how the gospel creates one new people—Jew and Gentile together—united by faith (Genesis 12:3, Romans 15:8–13). This gospel does not merely save; it transforms. Because of God’s mercy, believers are called to live holy lives marked by humility, love, service, and hope (Romans 12:1–2, 13:8–10). Romans helps us understand both what the gospel is and how to live it out, all for the glory of God among the nations (Romans 11:33–36, 15:5–6).

Continue reading in our NT260 plan with the fourth part of Phase 2 — The Savior, His Church, and the Mission.

Songs for Sunday, December 7, 2025 @ Christ Community Church (Advent Week 2)

Tomorrow is the Lord’s day, and I’m excited! I’m also grateful for another week in this Advent season, remembering Jesus’s first coming and longing with hope for His return!

Last week, we lit the candle of hope and remembered that our confidence in Jesus isn’t vague, wishful thinking — it’s anchored in the character of our faithful God (Hebrews 10:23). This week, we move to the second candle: peace. And just like hope, the peace we find in Advent isn’t shallow or sentimental. It’s not the temporary ease the world (falsely) offers. It’s a deep, steady peace secured by Jesus Himself (John 14:27).

We light this second candle to remind us that true peace came to us through the humility of Jesus. Hebrews tells us that the eternal Son took on flesh and blood “so that through death He might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery” (Hebrews 2:14-15). He didn’t stand at a distance. He entered our weakness, stepped into our struggles, and became like us “in every respect” so that He could be a merciful and faithful High Priest — able to reconcile us to God and bring lasting peace (Hebrews 2:17).

The peace that Jesus brings isn’t weak or merely sentimental. It is the victory-won peace that came “by the blood of His cross” (Colossians 1:20). Hebrews tells us He destroyed” the one who has the power of death” (Hebrews 2:14) — and He did it not by mounting a worldly assault but by humbling Himself (Philippians 2:6-8). The world wins peace by force (unpeacefully), but Jesus wins peace by laying His life down. His strength is not seen in crushing armies or empires but in crushing sin, Satan, and death through His own suffering and resurrection. And because Jesus is the Resurrection and the Life (John 11:25), His peace means we no longer fear death at all — He has already passed through it and triumphed over it for us. It’s the beautiful paradox of salvation: the humility of Christ is stronger than all the strength of the world, and His finished work is more than enough (Philippians 2:9-11).

Bethlehem shows us this and more. In Bethlehem, we see that God came near — not in power but humility, not with fanfare but quiet mercy (Micah 5:2, Luke 2:7). And the same Jesus who put on flesh and dwelt among us in the manger in Bethlehem now reigns in glory (Philippians 2:9-11). Because He lived, suffered, died, and rose again (1 Corinthians 15:3-4), we can draw near to His throne of grace with confidence, sure that we can and will receive the mercy and help we need in every moment (Hebrews 4:14-16). As this candle of peace shines, we rest in the peace Jesus secured for us, and we pray that His peace would shine through our lives into a world that needs Him desperately (Matthew 5:9).

But Advent isn’t some mere set of religious exercises inviting us to remember theological ideas — it invites us to come to the One who is our peace (Ephesians 2:14). If you find yourself anxious, restless, or burdened, hear the good news: Jesus came near to save people just like us, and “He is not ashamed to call them brothers” (Hebrews 2:11). He welcomes you. So, come to Him. Bring your fears, your wounds, your weariness. His peace is real, and His mercy is sure (1 Peter 5:7).

Tomorrow at Christ Community, we also have the joy of celebrating the peace and salvation of Jesus through baptism — a visible picture of the gospel and a reminder of what Jesus has done for us. When someone goes beneath the water and rises out of it, we’re seeing Romans 6:4 lived out before our eyes: “We were buried therefore with Him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.” Baptism tells the story of Advent’s promise fulfilled — Jesus came to save sinners (Matthew 1:21), to make us new (2 Corinthians 5:17), and to bring us into His peace forever (John 16:33).

This is also why we take the time to share these “Songs for Sunday” posts each week (or at least as often as we can). We want to help you prepare your heart for corporate worship—that time each week when we come together as a church family to sing, pray, and hear God’s Word—to let the Scriptures and songs we’ll share this week begin settling in your soul before Sunday ever arrives. When we come ready, familiar with the Word and expectant to sing, our hearts are strengthened and our worship deepens (Colossians 3:16).

Take a few moments to read through the passages and listen to the songs we’ll be singing. Let them draw your thoughts and hearts to Jesus — our merciful High Priest, our Prince of Peace, and our soon-coming King.

We would love to invite you to gather with us as we sing and John opens God’s Word and points us to Jesus.

Everyone is welcome!

Here are our Scriptures, songs, and Advent readings:

  • Advent Reading | Peace —

The second candle reminds us that true peace came to us through the humility of Jesus Christ. Hebrews tells us that the eternal Son took on flesh and blood so that He might break the power of death and free us from fear (Hebrews 2:14–15). He was made like us “in every respect,” entering our weakness and our struggles, so that He could become a merciful and faithful High Priest—able to reconcile us to God and bring us lasting peace (Hebrews 2:17).

Bethlehem shows us that God came near—not in power, but in humility; not with fanfare, but in quiet mercy. Because Jesus came, lived, suffered, and rose again, we can now draw near to the throne of grace with confidence, finding the mercy and help we need in every moment (Hebrews 4:14–16). As this candle of peace shines, let us rest in the peace Christ secured for us and pray that His peace would shine through our lives into a world that desperately needs Him.

14Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, 15and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery. 16For surely it is not angels that he helps, but he helps the offspring of Abraham. 17Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. 18For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.

14Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. 15For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. 16Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Christ Has Come: The Promised King & His Gift of HOPE — a Refresh & Restore Bible Study

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)

The second woman is Rahab (v. 5), and her story is found throughout the Bible in Joshua 2, 6:17, 6:22-25 as well as in the New Testament in Hebrews 11:31 and James 2:25.

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 none of 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.

[1] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Mt 1:1–16.

[2] This was known as a levirate marriage. The Lexham 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.

Songs for Sunday, November 30, 2025 @ Christ Community Church (Advent Week 1)

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.

Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.