The Sacrifice of the Magi

by Robert Jacobs

My recent search for a new home has caused me to be in and out of a lot of neighborhoods. Though searching for a home is normally a fairly grueling task, some of the unpleasantness has been taken away by all of the Christmas decorations. As a kid, I can remember getting down the box of big bulb Christmas lights—popular back in the 70s and 80s—and checking them all in preparation for hanging. In recent years, though, the style of Christmas decor has changed. One of the more interesting shifts has been the advent of the inflatable yard decoration.

While touring various neighborhoods in the past week or so, I have seen some very elaborate inflatables. From snow globes to Santa helicopters and flying reindeer, these yuletide yard decorations are quite a sight to see. Earlier this week, I turned the corner into yet another neighborhood and I saw the largest inflatable I have ever seen: a giant nativity. Taking up about half of the house’s front yard, inflatable Mary, Joseph, and Jesus greeted everyone to the subdivision with a distinct halogen glow.  

At first I was impressed, but I soon realized that we were missing all of the other key players traditionally present in the nativity scene. “Where are the inflatable wise men,” I asked myself as I drove past. I shrugged it off, chalking up my dismay to the fact that my mother collected manger scenes—there were at least thirty on display at any given moment during the year—and I probably set unrealistic expectations of nativity displays due to this heavy exposure. But as I drove on, I could not stop thinking about the wise men.

The wise men. What a strange part of the advent narrative. Technically, the wise men were magi, magicians or wizards that lived and worked in the Persian Empire.[1] They spent the majority of their time studying ancient texts, prophecy, and divination. According to Matthew 2, the three magi who visited Jesus had studied the book of Micah, quoting a messianic passage to King Herod as the impetus for their journey: “But you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for out of you will come a ruler who will shepherd my people Israel” (Micah 5:2,4).

As I thought more about these magi, I realized that they must have studied thousands of texts and read countless prophesies. Yet, this prophesy must have been different in their eyes, justifying a costly trans-imperial journey. In order to seek out the ruler mentioned by Micah, in other words, these men would have put their life on hold and invested a large sum in the outlay of the journey. And these sacrifices were not without justification, for when “they saw the child with his mother Mary…they bowed down and worshiped him” (Matthew 2:11).

In many ways, these magi who set aside everything to find Christ lived out a teaching that Jesus would deliver decades later. Discussing worldly worry, Jesus teaches in Matthew 6 to “seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you” (Matthew 6:33). Thus, as we seek God first, we find that which will truly sustain us. These magi sought Christ, a costly yet worthwhile endeavor, meeting with the creator of the universe face-to-face.

Scripture does not tell us what happened to the magi after their interaction with Christ other than that “they returned to their country” (Matthew 2:12). However, if the other encounters with Jesus recorded in the gospels are any indication, I am confident that their time with Christ was transformative. These men, the intellectual leaders of their community, returned home knowing Christ, a truth that cost them much yet informed and transformed the remainder of their study.

Are we willing to sacrifice like the magi to know Jesus? Are we willing to put our life on hold to commune with and worship Him, or do our overly full schedules take precedent? This is a stinging question for us, particularly at this time of year. December seems to be the month when social commitments pile up. Parties, shopping, pageants, and the like seem to sap all our mental and emotional energy, causing us to look at our Bible in the morning and turn away, metaphorically saying to Jesus, “I’ll talk to you later…if I have time.” 

What do you need to do to “seek first the kingdom of God” this holiday season? Do you need to let someone else host the get-together? Do you need to let another parent make the pageant costumes? Do you need to say no to some of the party invitations? Do you need to bake cookies for just one neighbor in need rather than the whole block? Only you know what’s keeping you from seeking Him first. But whatever it is, I pray that you have the determination to overcome and relentlessly seek Christ before anything else. Like the magi, it may come at a cost, but it will be well worth the sacrifice.

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[1] Liddell and Scott, A Greek English Lexicon (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996,) s.v. Μάγος.

Temptations and Choices

by Robert Jacobs

On a cool night in September 1634, a young twenty-six-year-old nervously waited as his art was, for the first time, being presented to the public. A recent masters graduate of Christ College Cambridge, this rising star—John Milton—had been asked to write a masque (a short play like drama performed for royalty or high-ranking government officials) for the investiture of a new Lord President of Wales. Milton, never one to pull punches, decided to make the topic of his mask the demonic assault of the new Lord President’s daughter, Allice Edgerton.

While the plot appears to be social suicide for this aspiring artist, Milton writes the masque so that the fourteen-year-old girl overcomes her demonic adversary. After being kidnaped by the demon Comus and bound to a chair so that she can be tempted to sin, Alice declares that she will never give in to the demon’s ploys, sharply replying to his temptations, “Fool do not boast, thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind with all thy charms.” Through her determination, and help from a divine messenger, Alice eventually escapes her captor and makes her way back home to her family.

So, what does any of this have to do with us? We live in the 21^st century, not the 17^th century. We are not being dragged off to dark castles by demons. And we are not (well most of us) British nobility. 

The lines that Milton wrote for Alice reveal an important biblical truth about temptation. Even though Alice was assaulted and tempted through no fault of her own, she believes that reactions to such temptations are controlled by her own will. In other words, she is the one truly in control of the situation. No matter how much Comus tempts or threatens her, she is the one who decides what she will and will not do. And she has decided to not engage in sin.

You see, I often hear people saying something completely different, blaming others for their sin. Sometimes they blame demonic temptation, explaining that they were under intense attack which excuses their choices. Other times, I hear people blame God, arguing that he has strong-armed them into obedience for too long and they simply have to break free from his oppressive rules. 

The reality, though, is that the ball is in our court when it comes to sin. Joshua articulates this truth when he declares to the people of Israel, “choose this day whom you will serve” (Joshua 24: 15). God is not forcing us into obedience, nor are temptations irresistible. We, just like Alice and the people of Israel, decide what we will and will not do.

But before you lose all hope, there is something you should know about Joshua himself. The Hebrew name Joshua (Yeshua) means “God saves.” Incidentally, the name we translate as “Jesus” in English is the Hebrew name Yeshua (yes, Joshua and Jesus actually have the same name). Thus, the command “choose this day whom you will serve” is spoken by a man whose name means God saves, the same name that an angel will command Mary to give to the savior of the world.

When we choose who we will serve—God our ourselves—there is a promise associated with that choice. In choosing God over our momentary desires, we access an abundance that can only be experienced by being in a relationship with God. The question for us, actually the same question that has been asked by all of humanity, is will we choose to follow God or our fleeting desires. You must answer this question for yourself. No one can force your hand. Who will you serve?  

A Grief Embraced

by Robert Jacobs

No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing. – “A Greif Observed” by C.S. Lewis[1]

Originally published in 1961 under the pseudonym N.W. Clerk, A Greif Observed chronicles the experiences, emotions, and thoughts of noted professor of Medieval studies and prolific writer C.S. Lewis immediately after the death of his wife, Joy Davidman. Within A Grief, Lewis captures grief in its raw, unprocessed, and often confusing form. For instance, his comparison of grief and fear, while puzzling to those unfamiliar with deep loss, often resonates with his readers, including me.

The unfortunate reality of living in a fallen world is that we will experience grief in its various forms many times throughout our life. Although we may never lose a spouse to death as Lewis did, this world repeatedly inflicts a bitter pain. Some experience grief when the consequences of their poor choices fully manifest, with many at Living Hope experiencing great loss because of their sexual sin. Still others in the Living Hope family experience a similar grief not because of their own sin but because of the sin of others, with family and friends completely alienated because of their supposed hatred and narrow-mindedness.

The danger with writing a devotional focused on the topic of grief is that it can quickly turn into what my good friend Chris calls “Christian cheese,” seemingly meaningless platitudes designed to respond to grief without actually validating the pain and confusion associated with loss (i.e. “Let go and let Jesus,” “This is your thorn in the flesh,” Let Jesus take the wheel, “ etc.) While such clichés are often based in biblical truth, they are usually blindly applied by a well-meaning friend who does not truly engage with their comrade's grief. In A Greif, Lewis describes this kind of heartless Christian feel-good theology in the following way: “Talk to me about the truth of religion and I'll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I'll listen submissively. But don't come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don't understand.”[2]

Although grief is a complex and protean emotion that must be experienced over a long period of time, scripture does offer examples of healthy ways to process such feelings. One example can be found in an unlikely place, the book of Judges. In chapter 6, the author (possibly Samuel) recounts the calling of Gideon. While Gideon hid in a winepress underground, an “angel of the Lord” approached him, declaring that Gideon would be used by God to free Israel from the hand of Midian (Judges 6:11). Many biblical scholars believe, as do I, that this “angel”—a Hebrew word that simply means messenger—was actually an incarnation of Christ.[3]

After realizing that he was indeed in the presence of a heavenly messenger, Gideon cries out in grief, “Alas, Sovereign Lord! I have seen the angel of the Lord face to face!” (Judges 6:22) According to the linguistic work of James Strong, the word translated here as “Alas” indicates a deep pain.[4] In other words, Gideon is grieved that he, a sinful man, has come face to face with one who has stood in the presence of God. In response to his grief, the messenger, or in other semantics the ambassador for the Lord, declares “Peace! Do not be afraid” (Judges 6: 23). Rather than offering some kind of “quick fix” or verbal salve to cover over Gideon’s grief, the messenger instead extends peace. Now, scripture does not say that this gift of peace assuaged all or even part of Gideon’s grief, but instead it says that Gideon’s immediate reaction was to “[build] an altar to the Lord” in worship (Judges 6: 24).

This three-verse sequence offers us a highly unconventional, and honestly illogical in the eyes of the world, take on grief. As this “mighty man of valor” engaged his grief, the Lord intervened with His peace, which fueled Gideon’s worship in the midst of that grief. 

Worship as a response to grief? Seems like one of those “Christian cheese” platitudes that I mentioned before. While I could understand if someone thought this, I would point out that Gideon’s worship was not a cover-up for his feelings. He did not put on a happy face, build an alter, and sing up-beat praise and worship music. On the contrary, the Lord met him in his grief with divine peace, a beautiful image of Christ meeting us in our darkest moments to save us “while we were yet sinners” (Romans 5:8). It was out of this divine connection and amidst the pain of grief that Gideon’s heartfelt worship sprang forth.

The question for us, then, is what is our reaction to grief? Do we embrace what we feel and ask God for his peace, or do we stuff those feelings down deep inside? Do we worship God in the midst of our grief, or do we put on a smile and tell everyone we are fine? Do we allow God’s peace to meet us in our grief, or do we close him out and instead embrace bitterness?

While I can honestly say that there is no easy answer for the deep heartache and sorrow associated with grief, I can confidently say that Jesus will meet us at our point of anguish, mourning with those who mourn.

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[1] C.S. Lewis, A Greif Observed (New York: Harper One, 1996,) 3.

[2] Ibid, 25.

[3] See, for instance, A. E., Cundall and L. Morris, Judges and Ruth: An Introduction and Commentary (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1968), 103. 

[4] “אֲהָהּ,” A Concise Dictionary of the Words in the Greek Testament and the Hebrew Bible, James Strong.