Grace Lutheran
Sunday 2025 December 28 Setting 1
      • Bible Trivia
        Loading...

      • Isaiah 63:7–14ESV

      • Galatians 4:4–7ESV

      • Matthew 2:13–23ESV

      • Psalm 111ESV

      • Psalm 111ESV

      • John 20:1–18ESV

      • Isaiah 63:7–14ESV

      • John 20:1–18ESV

      • Galatians 4:4–7ESV

      • John 20:1–18ESV

      • Matthew 2:13–23ESV

  • Galatians 4:4 ESV
    But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law,

    The Child the World Wants to Kill

    If you grew up on Christmas specials like I did, you might think the first Christmas ended with a soft glow, a quiet night, and everyone smiling peacefully as the credits rolled. The music swells, the snow falls just right, and nothing ever goes wrong after that.
    Matthew apparently didn’t watch the same specials.
    Because in Matthew’s Gospel, there’s no final verse of “Silent Night.” There aren’t shepherds lingering around the manger. There aren’t angels hovering overhead. There’s no cozy ending where everyone gets to go home and put their feet up.
    Instead, Matthew gives us a knock in the middle of the night. A dream that completely wrecks Joseph’s plans (Matthew 2:13). And a young family scrambling to pack what little they have and get out—fast—like they’re evacuating before a wildfire and hoping they’re not too late.
    So… Merry Christmas.
    This is where Matthew takes us after Christmas. Not into warm feelings or nostalgia, but into real life—the kind we recognize. The kind where plans fall apart. The kind where doing the right thing doesn’t make things easier, just necessary.
    The Child has come, and the world does not throw a parade. It sharpens knives.
    And that should tell us something important. This Child is not just here to make us feel better. He hasn’t come to decorate our lives or fit neatly into our traditions. He has come to confront something—something broken, something threatened by His presence.
    The reaction tells us who He is.
    When a baby causes kings to panic, you’re not dealing with just another child.
    You’re dealing with a King.

    The World Doesn’t Hate Religion—It Hates a King

    Herod isn’t threatened by babies. He’s threatened by rivals.
    A newborn doesn’t scare him. A king does.
    The moment Herod hears that word—king—something tightens in his chest (Matthew 2:3). Not because this child has an army. Not because He’s marching on Jerusalem. Not because He’s flexing power—at least not yet.
    Herod panics because he knows something all of us know instinctively: there’s only room for one throne.
    That was the issue then, and it’s still the issue now.
    The world actually doesn’t mind religion all that much. It’s fairly comfortable with spirituality. It’s happy with faith as long as it stays vague, impersonal, and non-intrusive.
    You can talk about mindfulness and self-care. You can talk about inner peace. You can talk about “what works for you.”
    Nobody gets upset about that.
    But say, “Jesus Christ is Lord” (Philippians 2:11), and you can feel the air change in the room.
    Suddenly it’s offensive. Suddenly it’s divisive. Suddenly it’s labeled dangerous.
    Why?
    Because Jesus isn’t offering helpful suggestions for living your best life. He isn’t one voice among many. Jesus claims authority. He speaks as King (Matthew 28:18).
    And notice what Herod doesn’t do. He doesn’t go after the Magi’s astrology. He doesn’t ban dreams. He doesn’t shut down religion in general.
    He goes after this Child.
    And that hasn’t changed.

    The “Safe” Jesus

    You see this every December.
    Everyone loves baby Jesus.
    Baby Jesus is quiet. Baby Jesus doesn’t ask anything of you. Baby Jesus fits neatly into a manger, onto a Christmas card, or into a lawn display.
    Baby Jesus is safe.
    But once that baby grows up and starts saying things like, “Repent” (Matthew 4:17), “Take up your cross” (Luke 9:23), “No one comes to the Father except through Me” (John 14:6),
    that’s when the welcome mat gets pulled back inside.
    Because now Jesus isn’t just comforting—He’s confronting. Now He isn’t just present—He’s demanding.
    The world is fine with Jesus as long as He stays small, silent, and manageable.
    Herod wasn’t afraid of who Jesus was that night in Bethlehem. He was afraid of who Jesus would become.
    And if we’re honest, that question still presses on us too—not just out there in the world, but right here in our own hearts.
    What kind of King are we willing to welcome?

    God’s People Live in the World—but Take Their Cues from God

    When the angel warns Joseph, Joseph doesn’t argue. He doesn’t negotiate. He doesn’t ask for a second opinion. He doesn’t say, “Let me pray about this for a few days” or “Let’s see if this makes sense in the morning.”
    He gets up. And he goes (Matthew 2:14).
    That’s worth sitting with for a moment.
    Egypt isn’t ideal. It’s not safer. And it’s definitely not home. It’s unfamiliar, inconvenient, and probably terrifying. This is not the life Joseph signed up for when he said yes to Mary—or to God.
    But Egypt is where God sends them—for now.
    And that’s discipleship. Something we are going to start talking about this next year.
    Discipleship is rarely about ideal conditions. It’s about faithfulness in the middle of disruption. It’s about trusting God’s Word even when it sends you somewhere you wouldn’t have chosen for yourself.
    Being “in the world but not of the world” (John 17:15–16) doesn’t mean retreating from life or hiding from reality. It means direction. It means that when God’s Word says “go,” that voice carries more weight than fear, convenience, or common sense.
    Paul captures this in Galatians: “When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of woman, born under the Law, to redeem those under the Law” (Galatians 4:4–5).
    Jesus steps into the same broken, dangerous world we live in. He knows what it is to be displaced, threatened, and misunderstood. But He does not belong to this world—and because of Him, neither do we.
    So we don’t live like slaves scrambling in panic. We live like sons and daughters who trust their Father—even when Egypt is the address.

    “Just Keep It Private”

    You’ve probably heard this one before:
    “I don’t mind that you’re Christian—just don’t push it on anyone else.”
    It sounds polite. Reasonable, even. It sounds like tolerance.
    But really, it’s Herod with better manners.
    Private faith is acceptable. Public confession is not.
    As long as Christianity stays quiet, personal, and out of the way, the world is fine with it. But Christianity has never been a private religion. It’s a proclaimed one.
    Jesus didn’t say, “Keep this between us.” He said, “Go and tell” (Matthew 28:19–20).
    Not aggressively. Not arrogantly. But faithfully.
    Because the gospel isn’t something we own—it’s something we’ve been given (1 Corinthians 4:1). And what’s been given is meant to be shared, even when the world would rather we keep it to ourselves.

    The World Is Hostile—and the Bible Never Pretends Otherwise

    Then Matthew takes us where no one wants to go.
    Herod orders the slaughter of the children (Matthew 2:16).
    There is no way to soften this. And Scripture doesn’t try. This is the Law doing its grim, necessary work.
    Evil is real. Power abuses. Innocence suffers. The world is not safe.
    Christianity does not deny that. It names it.
    Isaiah reminds us that in all their affliction, God was afflicted, and He carried His people (Isaiah 63:9). Not distant. Not detached. Present.
    And Matthew shows us something even harder: God preserves His Son—not to avoid suffering—but to take it upon Himself later.
    Jesus lives here so He can die later.
    The children of Bethlehem die. Jesus lives.
    And that should unsettle us—until we realize why.

    The Child Who Escaped Death Did Not Escape the Cross

    Here is the Gospel at the heart of this text.
    Jesus does not escape death forever. He escapes it for now.
    He comes out of Egypt (Matthew 2:15). He grows up. He preaches. He is arrested. He is crucified.
    Herod’s sword fails. Rome’s cross succeeds.
    And God turns it into salvation (Acts 2:23–24).
    Psalm 111 says the works of the Lord are to be remembered. This is the work we remember most:
    The Child the world tried to kill is the Savior who laid down His life willingly (John 10:18). The King Herod feared now reigns forever (Revelation 19:16).

    Why Christianity Is Always Targeted

    Here is the biggest question you have to ask yourself, “Why does Christianity get singled out?”
    Here’s the simple answer:
    Christianity doesn’t just offer meaning. It offers lordship.
    It says: “You are not your own” (1 Corinthians 6:19). “You do not save yourself” (Ephesians 2:8–9). “Power of this world does not get the last word.” “Death does not win” (1 Corinthians 15:54–57).
    Every system built on control eventually collides with the cross.
    That’s why Christianity isn’t attacked because it’s weak—but because it’s dangerous to false power.
    They tried to kill it when it was small enough to fit in a manger. They tried to silence it with mockery. Now they try to pressure it into irrelevance.
    And it keeps failing.
    Because Christ lives (Matthew 28:6).

    The Same Resistance Lives in Us

    Now here’s where this turns uncomfortably personal.
    It’s easy to talk about the world resisting Jesus. Harder to admit how often we do the same thing—just more politely.
    We want Jesus as Savior. We’re less enthusiastic about Jesus as King.
    We want forgiveness—without repentance (Luke 13:3). Comfort—without obedience (John 14:15). Grace—without change (Romans 6:1–2).
    Herod wanted Jesus gone. We often just want Him quiet.
    Different tactics. Same instinct.

    Slaves Made Sons

    And this is where Paul’s words land with full force:
    “You are no longer a slave, but a son—and if a son, then an heir” (Galatians 4:7).
    You are not God’s child because you remember well. You are God’s child because Christ was sent.
    You are not an heir because you live fearlessly. You are an heir because the Spirit cries, “Abba, Father” (Romans 8:15).
    The same Father who sent His Son into danger has claimed you as His own.

    Living Calmly in a Herod World

    What does this mean for us?
    It means we are not surprised when the world resists Christ (John 15:18). It means we are not defensive when Christianity is mocked. It means we are not afraid when faith costs us something (Matthew 5:11–12).
    Herod always looks powerful—until he’s gone. Christ always looks vulnerable—until He reigns.
    We do not overcome the world by blending in (Romans 12:2). We overcome it by bearing witness—calmly, clearly, faithfully (Acts 1:8).
    Because the Child the world tried to kill is the King who reigns.
    And He has already won.
    Christmas isn’t over. It’s just told the truth.
    And that truth is enough.
    Amen.
    Let us pray.
    Lord Jesus Christ, the Child the world tried to silence, You are our King and our Savior. When the world sharpens its knives and our hearts are tempted to fear or retreat, fix our eyes on You.
    Forgive us for the times we want You as comfort but not as Lord, for grace without repentance, for peace without trust.
    Strengthen us by Your Spirit to live faithfully in a world that resists You— not with anger or fear, but with confidence, humility, and hope.
    Keep us steadfast in Your Word, bold in our confession, and calm in Your promises, until the day we see You reign openly and forever.
    We pray this in Your holy and saving name. Amen.

      • Galatians 4:4ESV

  • Joy To The World

      • Galatians 4:4ESV

Grace Lutheran
3 members • 2 followers