We want God’s wisdom, yet often what we really want is an advantage—something that makes us look right, strong, and worthy of respect. In James 3:13–17, wisdom from above takes a startlingly different shape: meek conduct, mercy, gentleness, and a willingness to be taught. What does that wisdom ask of us as we wait for Jesus to return?
Grace saves us—we donR17;t deserve it, canR17;t earn it, and have no grounds to boast about it, as Paul makes plain in Ephesians 2:8–9—so what does it look like when a community of undeserving people actually lives that out together as the church God is building?
The decorations come down, the calendar turns, and Christmas recedes into memory—but Matthew 2 insists thereR17;s something that doesnR17;t go out of season. And if the Gospel doesnR17;t go out of season, are we keeping ourselves focused on where it is pointing us?
Most of us navigate life by a quiet, practical question: whatR17;s the minimum I need to get by with my time and my money? In Matthew 2, the wise men travel months across dangerous roads and then open their best treasures before the child—and the gap between what they did and what they could have gotten away with is exactly where this passage challenges us.
Most of us pray “thy kingdom come̶1; without stopping to ask whether the kingdom weR17;re actually building day to day is GodR17;s—or our own. That tension sits at the heart of Matthew 6:10, and Daniel 4 shows just how far God will go to get our attention when we forget whoR17;s really in charge.
WeR17;ve all looked at this world and thought, it just doesnR17;t seem like GodR17;s will is being done. Underneath that thought is a deeper fear that GodR17;s reserve of will and ability runs dry the way ours does. That fear is exactly what Jesus targets when He teaches us to pray “your will be done.̶1;
We can be full of hope and still put that hope in plans, forecasts, and outcomes that never arrive. When disappointment turns us into expert worriers—or convinces us that life will only get worse—weR17;re reminded to look to our true hope and the Power behind it.
You think the picnic went great until you start to itch and realize you brought ticks home with you. What tick bites—those sneaky sins whose venom is already inside before you notice—do you have? Those are the ones Jesus came to rescue us from.
You open what looks like a personal Christmas card and itR17;s just a pitch for insurance. ThereR17;s always the something being snuck by us, isnR17;t there? Jesus faced that same suspicion R12; how can we know He is really who He says He is?