
1:1 The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.
Matthew 1:1-6, 16
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]
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.





