The Greek says it, knock to your knees with joy.
We're in the middle of the story. Sunday we stood
in Jerusalem where power smiles while sharpening
knives. And scripture is quoted without being
believed. This coming Sunday, we'll kneel in
Bethlehem where joy is dusty and worship costs
something. But tonight, tonight we're on the
road between them. The road where obedience begins
before clarity does. The road where the light
shines but doesn't explain itself. Welcome to
Midweek Bible Study. The fellowship hall still
smells like potluck, grace, and the folding chairs
haven't quite cooled from the bodies that carried
stories to the table. We've broken bread, swapped
laughter, and now we opened the word. We're not
here for a performance. We're here for something
quieter, something deeper. A chance to see ourselves
in Scripture and maybe catch a glimpse of God
walking just ahead. This is The Star Didn't Wait,
and I'll see you on the other side. This is a
very pedantic reason why ministers have no business
trying to be psychiatrists. Or counselors. I
mean, I'm serious, right? Like, I will come talk
to you about the Bible. I'll tell you what the
Bible says. But when it comes to, I mean, leave
that stuff to real professionals, man. Plumbing
and electricity. Just have to, that's on y 'all.
Okay. So I am going to go ahead and begin here,
and I do want to write off the – oh, I almost
forgot. Thumbs up. I do want to just paragraph
here real quick because if you do come, you come
on Wednesday nights, you come on Sundays, you
probably are aware that we – well, we just had
Epiphany and Epiphany Sunday coming up. Epiphany
is the three wise men story and the gold, the
frankincense, and the myrrh. And we've actually
had that kind of Sunday after Christmas, but
before Epiphany last Sunday and tonight, and
then Epiphany Sunday. And so I, what I've been
doing is actually honing in on the Epiphany story,
because if you are, I love, I. hate whenever
someone starts off a statement like this. I guarantee
you start out a statement like this, 99 % of
the time, I'm already going to hate it before
you finish what you're going to say. But when
people say stuff like, if you are a Christian,
dot, dot, dot, because it usually what follows,
if you are a Christian is nonsense. But if you
are a Christian that believes that the Bible
is one long story about God and his people, and
Jesus comes about two -thirds of the way through,
but Jesus flips the whole thing and actually
fulfills all of the promises God made in the
first two -thirds, right? If you believe the
Bible is that long, continuous story about...
how we started from a garden to a man, Abraham,
to a family and tribes, to a nation, and then
to the world. That hinge to how that took place,
how Christianity went global, happens in the
epiphany moment. And so I've kind of been trying
to take this overall story. and look at it from
some different perspectives because this is a
really important part to get when you're trying
to understand the bigger picture. So let us first
locate ourselves in a moment. Now I mentioned
Sunday, we stood in Jerusalem and we stood in
power and we stood in fear dressed as authority.
The tribe, the scribes and the priests, right?
We stood with Herod who knew how to smile while
sharpening knives. And we stood with those scribes.
They could quote Micah without missing a syllable
and still couldn't bring themselves to walk five
miles down the road and see. This coming Sunday,
we're going to kneel back in Bethlehem and we're
going to talk about these outsiders and about
joy and about gifts laid down in the dust, about
worship that counts more than words. But tonight,
We're not in either place. Tonight, we're on
the road in between the two. The place where
obedience starts before clarity arrives. The
place where faith has to walk without knowing
for sure how the story is going to eventually
end. The place where light shines, yes, but doesn't
yet explain itself. And if we're honest, That
is where most of us live our lives with God.
That's where most of our life with God actually
happens. Not in the dramatic moments. Not in
the clear revelations that we've had. But in
the long middle. Where you heard something true
on Sunday, but you're still trying to figure
out what it means on Tuesday. Where you felt
God move, and now you're wondering if maybe you
didn't just imagine it. Where the star is still
shining, but the road is dark. And you're not
entirely sure you packed enough water. That's
where we live. And that, friends, is where tonight's
text meets us. Imagine it, no choir, no angels
singing now, just camels shifting their weight,
leather creaking, sand underfoot. Palace gate
closes behind these wise men. Gold still clinks
in the saddlebags, frankincense still smells
like prayer, and myrrh still carries that sharp
edge of grief, even if they don't know why yet.
Behind them, a king who asked questions a little
too carefully. Smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Promises that felt like traps that they couldn't
quite put their finger on. And ahead of them,
nothing but road and sky. And then the light
moves. Not brighter, not louder, just forward.
And that's enough. That has to be enough, because
when God moves, you have two choices. You can
stay safe where you are, or you can follow into
what you can't yet see. Magi, they choose the
road. And roads, friends, they always ask something
of you. My dearest, attune your ears, not your
words. to the account according to the evangelist
Matthew. Second chapter, beginning with verse
seven. And Herod secretly called for the wise
men and learned from them the exact time when
the star had appeared. Then he said to them,
to Bethlehem, go and search diligently for the
child. And when you have found him, bring me
word so that I may also go and pay homage. When
they heard the king, they set out, and there
ahead of them went the star that they had seen
in its rising, till it had stopped over a place
where the child was. And when they saw the star
had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy.
On entering the house, they saw the child with
Mary, his mother, and they knelt down and paid
him homage. Then, opening the treasure chests,
they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense,
and myrrh, and having been warned in a dream
not to return to Herod, they left for their own
country by another road. Thus ends the reading
of the word. Matthew tells us that Herod called
the wise men secretly, not publicly, not with
the scribes present, not with witnesses. Matthew
says, secretly. That word, seems like, should
make our skin crawl. Because when power operates
in secret, it's usually because it's up to something
you can't say out loud. Herod wants information
the exact time that star appeared. Not approximately,
not a while back, exactly. Because Herod is already
doing the math in his head. He's calculating
age, calculating threat, calculating how many
baby boys he'll need to kill to make sure he
gets the right one. And the Magi don't know any
of this yet. They're still operating in good
faith. They're still thinking this king is curious.
They're still believing that power wants to worship
right alongside them. So when Herod says, go
and search diligently for the child, and when
you have found him, bring me words so that I
may also go and pay him homage, they believed
him. Why wouldn't they? And here's where the
text gets uncomfortable for those of us. who
like to think we can see evil coming a mile away.
Magi are wise. They read the stars. They know
the texts. They've traveled hundreds of miles
based on celestial signs. But they don't see
the lie standing right in front of them. Not
yet. Because deception dressed in religious language
is often the hardest kind to spot. When they
heard the king, they set out. No hesitation is
recorded, no second guessing, no stopping to
counsel each other about whether, does this feel
right, guys? No, they just go. And here's the
mercy hiding in the sentence. There ahead of
them went the star they had seen in its rising.
Star doesn't wait for them to figure out Herod.
Star doesn't pause long enough until they have
perceived and processed danger. The star just
goes ahead of them. And that phrase matters more
than we usually let it. Because it means God's
guidance doesn't depend on our full understanding.
The light keeps moving even when we are half
fooled. The light keeps moving even when we're
making decisions. We will later realize we're
much riskier than we thought. God doesn't wait
around for us to be perfectly discerning before
he leads us towards Jesus. He just leads. And
that should give us some kind of hope tonight.
Let me ask you something quietly. Have you ever
done the right thing with incomplete information?
Not because you were reckless. Not because you
didn't think it through. Because something in
you just knew it was time to move. I mean, you
didn't have it all figured out, but you just
knew the right thing to do here is to move. Maybe
you left a job before you had the next one lined
up. But you knew staying was killing something
inside you. Maybe you had a conversation you've
been avoiding for years and you still don't know
if you said it right. But you knew the silence
was just costing you too much. Maybe you forgave
someone even though they never apologized. Because
carrying that weight was breaking your back.
That's not foolishness, friends. That's faith.
And that's where the Magi are. They don't know
Herod's lying. They don't know that Bethlehem
will soon echo with the sound of Rachel weeping
for her children. They don't know. A dream is
coming that will reroute their entire journey
back home. And here's the part that makes this
even more complicated. Magi, they're not heroes
in the story. They're honest. Honest enough to
move when the light moves, but not discerning
enough to spot the lie standing right in front
of them wearing a crown. They're about to walk
out of that throne room carrying exactly the
information Herod needed to calculate mass murder.
They are cooperating with power's agenda even
without meaning to. That's not stupidity. That's
just what it looks like when finite people try
to navigate a world where evil knows very well
how to smile. And here is the mercy hidden in
verse 12. And we need to name this out loud.
God doesn't abandon them halfway through their
obedience. God sends a dream. God interrupts.
God says, Don't go back that way. Because sometimes
the only thing that saves us is that God course
corrects us before our faithfulness can turn
into complicity. All they know right now is the
light moved. So they did. And here's the truth
I keep coming back to. Sometimes obedience feels
like stumbling forward in the half dark. Sometimes,
following Jesus means you're learning the dangers
as you walk, not before. Sometimes, you do the
right things for reasons you don't fully understand,
and then God still has to reroute you mid -journey.
And that's not failure, that's faith, operating
the way faith actually works in a broken world.
God seems... Far more interested, in my opinion,
in forming people who trust the next step and
people who demand the whole map. But, and I think
this matters, partial light doesn't mean blind
obedience. It doesn't mean you surrender your
brain, right, to anyone who claims to speak for
God. It means you stay open to course correction
from Scripture, from community, from the Spirit
who warns you in dreams when you are about to
walk back into danger. Magi needed that dream
because their discernment wasn't sharp enough
on the front end, and God gave it to them. That's
not condemnation. That's protection. And let
me put these three groups side by side by side.
Herod describes Magi. Herod has power. He knows
how to manipulate religious language. He knows
how to sound sincere while plotting murder so
that I may go and pay him homage. That's not
ignorance on his part. That's just performance.
The scribes, we talked about this on Sunday,
they had the scripture. They quote Micah 5 and
2 without hesitation in Bethlehem of Judea, for
so it has been written by the prophet. Perfect
recall, perfect theology, perfect indifference.
But neither Herod nor the scribes move. They
know, they analyze, they calculate the risk,
and they decide. To stay comfortable. Magi, on
the other hand, didn't have what Israel had.
They don't have Torah. They don't have covenant
history. They don't have the prophets memorized.
But they have movement. And here is an uncomfortable
truth, I think, that hides like a rock in our
boot. Knowledge without movement. can look faithful
and still miss Jesus completely. Meanwhile, movement
without knowledge can feel dangerous and still
lead to him. And that should slow us down. Because
churches are usually built for scribes. We reward
people who can quote chapter and verse. We give
leadership. to people who know doctrine, who
trust people who sound certain. But the gospel
keeps finding magi. It keeps finding people who
don't have all of the answers, but are willing
to follow the light they've been given. It keeps
finding people who'd rather walk towards mystery
than stay safe in certainty. And if we're honest,
Man, that makes a lot of us feel uncomfortable.
Because we like to believe that knowing about
God is the same thing as following him. But the
text doesn't let us off that easy. Scribes knew
where the Messiah was to be born. It just didn't
care enough to go find out if it was true. Knowledge
became insulation against encounter. And in all
fairness, before we get too judgmental about
these ancient religious leaders, we should ask
ourselves, how many times have we used theological
certainty? Two big words put together. How long
have we used what we think the Bible says or
means? How about that? As a way to maybe avoid
risky work following Jesus into places that scare
us. How many times have we quoted scripture instead
of just simply obeying it? How many times have
we been busy so being right that we missed being
present? Magi, they didn't have any of the luxury
of avoidance. They're foreigners. They're outsiders.
They're working with incomplete revelation. So
all that they can really do is follow. And somehow,
that's exactly what God ends up offering. And
here's what's crazy. Remember how I talked about
book from one end to the other? This isn't a
one -off moment. This is how God has always worked.
Abraham doesn't get a destination. Genesis 12
and 1. He gets a call to leave. Go from your
country and your kindred and your father's house
to the land I will show you. Notice what's missing?
The address. God says, leave everything you know
and go to a place I'll show you when you get
there. Let's set a GPS route. That's faith operating
on partial light. And that's always been enough
for the people who God calls. The psalmist understood
this. He doesn't say God's word is a spotlight
illuminating the future. Psalm 119 verse 105
says, Your word is a lamp to my feet, light to
my path. A lamp. shows you the next step. Maybe
two? Not the whole road. Not even the next mile.
Just enough light to keep you from stumbling
into the ditch. And if that feels frustrating,
welcome to the way God forms trust. Because here
is what I've learned after 53 years of walking
with Jesus in 12 years, trying to pastor people
through the exact same journey, God is far more
interested in forming trust and satisfying curiosity.
He is far, far more interested in building people
who can walk into the dark and people who need
all the lights on before they can move. And that's
not cruelty, that's formation. Because if we
only moved when everything was bright and clear,
we'd never move at all. We'd stand still forever,
waiting for certainty that's never coming. Meanwhile,
Jesus walks ahead of us. Simply trusting will
follow. And the Magi, they don't yet know. They'll
need another home. They don't. yet know that
dreams will interrupt their sleep with divine
warnings. They don't yet know that worship will
turn into resistance. They don't yet know that
going back the way they came would mean becoming
accomplices to murder. All they know right now
is the light has stopped. But before we get to
the joy, and that's really more of a Sunday topic,
I want to talk about the dream because verse
12 is doing something here we cannot skip past.
Having been warned in a dream not to return to
Herod, they left for their own country for another
road. That dream is God's intervention. It's
God saying your obedience was good. Your movement
towards me was right. But you are about to walk
back into danger because you didn't see the lie
clearly enough the first time. So I'm giving
you another road. Again, that's protection. Because
God doesn't just honor movement in us. He protects
it. Even when we're halfway fooled. Even when
our discernment isn't sharp enough. Even. When
we are one bad decision away from becoming accomplices
to murder without even meaning to be. This dream
is proof that God finishes what we start in faith.
Partial light becomes divine course correction
and it equals safe passage home. And maybe that's
the real mercy we need to name tonight. Because
some of us might be sitting here thinking, I
made the right move, but I almost walked into
something terrible. I trusted the wrong person.
I believed a lie dressed up in religious language.
I cooperated with something I didn't fully understand,
and it could have destroyed me. God is saying
the same thing to you tonight that he said to
the Magi in that dream. I've got another road
for you. You don't have to go back the way you
came. Now, the joy quickly, until it stopped
over the place where the child was. When they
saw the star, it stopped. They were overwhelmed
with joy. Not mild satisfaction. Not, well, that's
nice. Overwhelmed. The Greek phrase there, I'm
not doing it. I looked this up. Because of the
word exceedingly and joy, they rejoice with exceedingly
great joy. That just kind of, I want to see what
that, what's the, what do those words really
mean? It's joy that knocks you sideways, like
off your balance. Joy that makes grown men weep.
Joy that feels like every hard mile is worth
it. Because the journey led exactly where it
was supposed to be. Not to a palace, to a house.
Not to a throne, but a child. Not to power, to
vulnerability wrapped in flesh. And that's where
they kneel. And I'll stop there, because Sunday
we're going to talk more about those gifts. But
here's the question for tonight. Where has the
light moved, but you haven't yet? Not because
you're stubborn, not because you don't love God.
But because you feel like you need the whole
picture first. I don't know. Well, let me name
some actual ground. Because abstract questions
are easy to nod to and never actually answer.
Maybe it's that conversation across the political
divide you've been avoiding because it's easier
to stay angry than risk reconciliation. Maybe
it's economic solidarity with people in the margins,
the kind that cost you something. Not the kind
you can afford. Maybe it's forgiving someone
who does not deserve it. Because you're tired
of carrying the weight and no bitterness is killing
something inside of you. Maybe it's a calling
you felt for years, but you've been waiting for
the time to be perfect. Maybe it's a step of
obedience feels risky. And you keep telling yourself
you'll move. When you have just a little more
clarity. But what if clarity doesn't come before
obedience? What if clarity comes through obedience?
What if the next step is the only light you're
going to get right now? And that has to be enough.
Because, friends, the gospel... keeps whispering
the same truth. God does not abandon people halfway
through obedience. The star doesn't vanish mid
-journey. It keeps going. The light moved and
they trusted again. And when it stopped, joy
was waiting. Not because the road was easy, but
because the road led home. Friends, may you trust
the lamp in your hand more than the darkness
ahead. May you walk even when the road feels
unfinished. May you discover that God is already
waiting further down the path, and the light
you thought was too small to follow was exactly
enough to get you there. And when the light moves,
may you have the courage to move with it, even
if you don't know where it's going, even if the
road feels dangerous, even if all you have is
just that next step. Because Jesus is worth the
risk of the journey. And the star, star never
lies. Amen? Amen. Thanks, guys. Sometimes the
road is darker than we expect it. Sometimes the
star moves before we're ready. The good news
is this. God never asks us to follow light that
isn't already leading. The Magi didn't know everything.
They made mistakes, but they moved and God met
them. Not just with a child and a house, but
protection for the journey home. So wherever
you are on the road tonight, if you're still
discerning, still stumbling, still wondering
if you heard right, take heart. Star didn't wait
and neither did God. Grace goes ahead of you.
If this message met you tonight, consider tossing
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That way you'll hear the bells when they ring.
Till then, keep walking, keep watching, and may
you always have just enough light to take that
next step. Until then, be blessed.