God wasn't sending them on a scavenger hunt he
told them right there Micah chapter 5 Bethlehem
and they wouldn't even walk down the road to
look In Jerusalem, the questions start coming
from the wrong direction. Strangers arrive from
far away asking, but a king no one in town seems
to be celebrating. They've seen a sign. They've
followed it. They want to know where the child
is. And the people who've spent their lives studying
scripture don't hesitate. They know the answer.
Bethlehem. It's written. It's clear. The prophecy
is settled. And then, nothing. No journey, no
movement, just directions given and doors closed.
Knowledge does its job and feet stay planted.
And if you're listening right now, you didn't
plan on stepping into this moment, but you wandered
into a small town church a Sunday or two after
Christmas where the decorations are coming down
and the miracle's already gone quiet. This is
the season where faith stops glowing and starts
asking, whether it still moves. So stay with
us. This might be closer than you think. I'll
see you on the other side. So I want to take
real quick before I start the sermon, I just
want to take a second to do just some quick formational
work just to kind of actually highlight to us,
point out. What we've actually been doing for
a long time here on Sunday mornings. And if you've
been tracking with us for the whole time, maybe
you've noticed this. Maybe you have been tracking
with us and you haven't noticed it at all. And
you're like, I don't even know what this guy
is talking about. That's okay. Let me take a
second to explain it. This story, we now, we're
in Christmas time now. January 6th, that's tomorrow,
is Epiphany. But we don't celebrate Epiphany
Sunday until the Sunday after Epiphany. So next
Sunday is actually Epiphany Sunday. And that
kind of concludes Christmas time. Okay? But our
journey towards that moment started way back
like in October. And we started looking at these
groups of series of sermons. Where each part
built upon each part. And then we saw throughout
the Bible, we started at the very, very, very
beginning with Cain and Abel. And we saw God,
despite our mistakes, continuing to pursue after
us. The entirety of the Bible is a book about
God's love being so vast that despite our mistakes.
He continues to pursue after us. But there's
a shift in the story here. Where God has pursued
us to the earth in human form, but that realization
comes with a response from us. So we're actually
going to see the initial response to Jesus. And
the reality that God is among us. And we're going
to see it from one group today. And then on Epiphany,
we're going to look at the wise men. And what
their response to Jesus in the world was. But
first, let's look at another group of folks.
That's next week. But I want to look at this
group of folks first. This is not about them.
This is about us, especially if you're sitting
there and you're thinking, I know my Bible front
and back. I know every story. I know the meaning
to the whole thing. I've got this whole Bible
thing figured out. Sometimes I wonder why I even
go down there on Sunday mornings. Because I'm
convinced that pastor really can't tell me something
about the Bible I don't already know. Now, you'd
never shake my hand and say that to me here at
the back of the sanctuary, but you might get
in your car and think it. And if that's you,
I have written a sermon today specifically for
you. There's a moment in every story where somebody
knows something important. and does absolutely
nothing about it. They have the information.
They have the expertise. They could move, but
they don't. Last week, we talked about the scriptures
and what they had already said, how Israel's
waiting was shaped by promise, how God had been
specific about Bethlehem. How expectation was
meant to create readiness. This week, we are
standing in the moment where that readiness gets
tested. Child has been born. He's left Bethlehem.
He's traveled, arriving in Jerusalem with questions,
important questions, questions that should matter
to people whose lives have been spent studying
scripture. That answer those specific questions.
But here's what makes this moment so heavy. The
people with the right answers never actually
go looking for the child. They can quote chapter
and verse. They know Micah chapter 5 verse 2
by heart. They tell the strangers who arrive
from the east exactly where to go. And then they
stay put. This morning, we're not talking about
the wise men yet. We're talking about the ones
who knew better. The scribes, the priests, the
keepers of Israel's memory. The ones could have
walked to Bethlehem in half a day, about five,
six miles, and never took one step. Knowledge
is a tricky thing in the kingdom of God. It can
illuminate or it can insulate. It can open doors.
Or it can build walls so high you forget that
there's ever anything actually on the other side.
And scripture warns us of this. Paul will later
write to the Corinthians, knowledge puffs up,
but love builds up. And not because knowledge
is bad, but because knowledge without movement
becomes its own kind of idolatry. You can be
right about God and miss God entirely. You can
know the promise and refuse the fulfillment.
You can stand at the crossroads holding the map
and never take a step. That is the tension this
text hands us. And it's not comfortable. So friends,
attune your ears to the words of Levi, the son
of Alphaeus, later called Matthew. In his gospel
account, the second chapter beginning in verse
1. In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was
born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the
east came to Jerusalem asking, Where is the child
who has been born, King of the Jews? For we observed
his star at its rising and have come to pay him
homage. King Herod heard this. He was frightened.
And all of Jerusalem with him. And calling together
all of the chief priests and the scribes of the
people. He inquired of them where the Messiah
was to be born. And they told him, in Bethlehem,
in Judea. For so it has been written by the prophet.
And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are
by no means least among the rulers of Judah.
For from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd
my people Israel. Then Herod secretly called
for the wise men and learned from them the exact
time at which the star had appeared. Then he
sent them to Bethlehem, saying, Go and search
diligently for the child. And when you have found
him, bring him. Sorry, bring me word so that
I may also go and pay homage. Friends, thus ends
the reading of the word this morning. And we
notice questions come from the outside, but the
answer comes from the inside. And instead, nobody
goes looking. And let's... Slow down here because
the moment is stranger than we usually let this
moment be because we've become so familiar with
the story, we actually don't think about the
words written on the page. Travelers arrive in
the city of Jerusalem. Foreigners, outsiders,
people who shouldn't know anything about Israel's
Messiah. And they show up and they're asking
all kinds of questions. And not vague questions,
specific questions. Where is the child who is
to be born king of the Jews? They have seen something.
They've followed something. And they are looking
for someone. And their arrival in the city of
Jerusalem causes quite a reaction. Herod is frightened.
And that makes sense. Herod's whole life is about
control. And the idea of another king threatens
every single thing he has ever built. But then
Matthew adds a detail that's very easy for us
to miss. And all of Jerusalem with him. Not just
Herod. The whole city. The religious leaders,
the people who should be celebrating, the ones
who have been waiting exactly for this moment,
they are frightened too. And when Herod calls
in the experts, the chief priests, the scribes,
the scholars of scripture, they don't hesitate.
They immediately know the answer. Bethlehem,
Micah 5, 2, they quote it perfectly. And then,
apparently they go back doing whatever it was
they were doing. Now here's what we need to sit
with. These are not bad people. These are not
ignorant people. These are keepers of Israel's
memory. Their job was to preserve, interpret,
and teach the scriptures. They knew the promises.
They knew the prophecy. They knew Bethlehem wasn't
just a town. It was a theological landmark. It's
David's city. The place of humble beginnings.
The location, the exact location God had named,
centuries earlier and they could exegete the
text they could trace the lineage they could
connect the dots between Abraham's blessing and
Balaam's star and Micah's ruler but when somebody
shows up asking where is he they give directions
and then go home what does it mean to know scripture
so well that it stops surprising you What happens
when the text becomes so familiar that you forget
it's alive? These scribes, these priests, spent
their entire lives studying God's word. But somewhere
along the way, study became management. Expectation
became expertise. Hope became doctrine. When
God acted exactly as he said he would, they missed
it. This is where Matthew's gospel does something
brilliant. He puts foreigners, Gentiles, outsiders,
people with no claim to Israel's covenant right
in the middle of the story. And they're the ones
seeking. Wise men don't have centuries of scripture
behind them. They don't have the prophets memorized.
They have a star and they follow it. Meanwhile,
people who had everything, scripture, traditions,
the temple, the priesthood, had settled into
certainty. Certainty doesn't go seeking. Certainty
calculates. It measures. It categorizes. It answers
questions, but it doesn't walk to Bethlehem.
God had been specific. He had said, Bethlehem.
He had given Israel every single tool they needed
to recognize the Messiah when he came and the
religious leaders. Got it right. They quote the
correct passage. They name the correct town.
They give the correct answer. But correct answers
without movement isn't faith. It's religious
performance. Now, I also want to be careful here.
Because this isn't about mocking the scribes
and the priests. This is about naming a spiritual
dynamic that is real for all of us. It is entirely
possible to be deeply invested in faith and still
resist God's actual presence. It is entirely
possible to honor scripture and miss what scripture
is actually pointing towards. It is entirely
possible to be right about theology and wrong
about Jesus. And the longer you've been at this,
the easier it becomes. Familiarity is dangerous,
not because knowing God is bad, far from it,
but because the moment we think we've got God
figured out, we stop listening for his voice.
We stop watching for his movement. We stop expecting
him to show up in ways that surprise us. And
when that happens, we treat God like a subject
to master instead of the divine creator to encounter.
Think about all that the scribes and the priests
were protecting. They were protecting Israel's
identity. They were protecting the temple. They
were protecting their role as interpreters of
God's word. All of those good things. But when
protection becomes the primary posture, encounter
becomes a threat. And that's what this moment
in Levi's, Matthew's account shows us. Wise men
are a disruption. They arrive asking questions
that shouldn't need to be asked. If the Messiah
had been born, shouldn't Jerusalem already know?
Shouldn't the priests already be leading the
celebration? Shouldn't there have been some kind
of official recognition? But there isn't. Because
the system designed to recognize God's arrival
had become more interested in maintaining itself
than seeking God. And, my dearest of friends,
when that happens, outsiders end up closer to
the truth than the insiders. Matthew puts foreigners,
Gentiles, with no claim. To Israel's covenant
at the center of this story. The people who had
no business knowing about the Messiah are the
ones actually seeking him. People who should
have been first in line to Bethlehem stayed in
Jerusalem managing their knowledge. And there's
something deeply uncomfortable about that. idea,
that reality for those of us who have spent our
lives in the church, who've studied scripture.
We think we've got a handle on how God works.
This is not a new problem in scripture. Isaiah
talks about it. These people honor me with their
lips, but their hearts are far from me. Jeremiah
warned about it. Do not trust in deceptive words
and say, this is the temple of the Lord. Jesus
will later warn about it. You search the scriptures
because you think that in them you have eternal
life, and it is they that testify on my behalf.
Yet, he says, you refuse to come to me. Pattern
in scripture is consistent. Religious certainty
can become a shield against authentic encounter.
Knowledge often becomes a substitute for real
relationship. Expertise can become an excuse
for staying comfortable. And when God acts, the
people most equipped to recognize him are often
the ones who are least willing to respond. Not
because they don't believe, but because belief
has calcified into their control. And here is
where this weight really should land. Scribes
and the priests, they weren't lazy. They weren't
indifferent. They were busy. They had responsibilities.
They had the temple to maintain, the Sabbath
to protect, the law to interpret, the purity
codes to enforce. They had congregations that
they had to shepherd, questions to answer, disputes
to settle. They had good reason not to drop everything
and simply walk to Bethlehem on the word of some
foreign travelers who showed up talking about
stars. From their perspective, They were being
faithful. They were being responsible. They were
stewarding the tradition. They were protecting
what God had already given them. And there's
real nobility in that kind of commitment. These
men had dedicated their entire lives to preserving
and interpreting God's word. They knew the scriptures
better than anyone. chapter and verse from memory.
They understood the complexities, the tensions,
the nuances. They weren't charlatans, nor were
they hypocrites. They were serious, devoted scholars
of the text. But that's the trap, isn't it? When
faithfulness becomes about protecting what we
already have instead of what God is doing now,
In our lives, we stop being responsive. We become
custodians instead of disciples. And custodians
don't travel. They maintain. They preserve. They
guard all important work. It's not the same thing
as following. It's not the same thing as seeking.
It is not. It is not the same thing as being
willing. To leave behind what you know to find,
God is revealing. The wise men had nothing to
protect. They had no temple, no tradition, no
theological framework to defend. All they had
was a star and a willingness to follow it. And
that made them more responsive to God's movement
than the people whose entire lives had been built
around being ready for exactly this moment. And
that should scare us. Because it means that sometimes
the very things we think prepare us for God can
actually insulate us from him. Our knowledge
can become a fortress. Our expertise can become
the moat. Our certainty can become the very thing
that keeps us from encountering God. And it's
a God who refuses to be managed. So here's where
this lands today. We are not the ancient scribes.
We are not first century priests, but we are
people who live with scripture. We are people
who have a history with God. We're people who
know the stories, sing the hymns, recite the
prayers. And the question this text asks is actually
very simple. Does our knowledge create in us
readiness? Or does it create in us distance?
And when someone shows up asking about Jesus,
do we point them in the right direction and stay
put? Or do we go with them? The wise men, foreigners,
outsiders, people had no business knowing about
this Messiah, were willing to travel thousands
of miles to follow a star. Meanwhile, the people
who had scripture, prophecy, and proximity to
Bethlehem stayed home. They knew, but they did
not seek. They had the answer. They didn't move.
And listen, I know how this can feel. I know,
I do. I know what it's like to think I've got
God all figured out. I know what it's like to
be so familiar with the gospel that it stops
being good news and starts being just news. I
know what it's like to quote scripture accurately
while avoiding the uncomfortable places God might
actually be showing up. And I'll tell you what
I've learned. God doesn't show up when we've
got him cornered. He shows up in the places we're
not controlling, in the questions we didn't expect,
the people we didn't invite. and in the disruptions
that we did not plan for. And if we are too settled,
too certain, too invested in being right, then
we'll miss him. Just like the scribes, just like
those priests, just like everybody in Jerusalem
who heard the question and gave the answer and
never took one single step towards Bethlehem.
So what do we do with this? Well, here's what
we don't do. We don't turn this into one more
thing to feel guilty about. And we don't make
this about performance. We don't start measuring
faithfulness by how many times we physically
go looking for God. That's just another form
of control. Instead, we acknowledge the truth
that the text hands us, that God is not ours
to manage. He's ours to encounter. And encounter
requires openness on our part. It requires humility.
It requires admitting that no matter how much
we know, we have not even come close to exhausting
the mystery of God. We'll see what happens when
these seekers finally find what they're looking
for next week. But this week, right here, right
now, we're still sitting with the ones who stayed
home. The ones who knew the answer but didn't
go looking. And the question is simple. What
are we holding on to that keeps us from seeking?
What certainty are we protecting? It makes us
resistant to surprise. What knowledge are we
managing instead of encountering? Whatever it
is, the need to be right. The comfort of having
God all figured out. The security of settled
answers. Friend, lay it down. Because the gospel
is not looking for experts. It's looking for
seekers. The promise is still the same. Those
who seek will find, even if they have to travel
from the east, even if they only have a star
to follow, even if the people who should know
better stayed home. God is not hiding, and he
will not be managed. So, may the God who names
Bethlehem give us courage to walk towards it.
May the Christ who disrupts our certainty meet
us in our seeking. May the Spirit who moves where
she will keep us open, awake, and responsive.
May we remember the right answer is not the same
as the right posture. Knowledge is not the same
as faith. God's presence is no reward for expertise.
It is just a gift for those of us willing to
move. Amen? Amen. We stopped believing. We stopped
because life got heavy. Routines settled in and
faith learned how to sit quietly on a shelf.
If this message stirred anything in you, let
it be an invitation, not shame. Christ is not
offended by slow feet. He's patient with those
who are learning how to move again. You don't
have to fix anything today. You don't have to
prove anything. Just stay open. Stay listening.
Sometimes epiphany begins not with a star, but
with the uneasy realization that God might be
closer than we are allowing ourselves to notice.
And if what you heard today met you where you
are, if it helped you breathe a little easier
or think a little deeper, you're welcome to support
this work the same way you would in a small church.
Just drop your like in the offering plate. And
if you'd like to keep walking with us in the
new year, go ahead, tithe your subscribe. That
way you'll know when it's time for church. Hey,
until next time, friend, be blessed.