Christmas often comes at 110 miles an hour—some are thrilled for presents or family, others quietly long for it to be over because of pain or pressure. Matthew’s account doesn’t hide the darkness; Herod rages, injustice spreads, and yet God is not absent. He protects, directs, and writes a bigger story, even through dreams and detours. This is why Christmas is powerful: it is grounded in real life and yet announces a hope sturdy enough for every season. Today, let your deepest longing be for the One who meets you in reality and leads you into freedom [11:27].
Matthew 2:13–15 — In a dream, a messenger told Joseph, “Rise, take the child and his mother, flee to Egypt, and stay until I tell you, because Herod is hunting for the child.” Joseph got up that very night and left for Egypt, remaining there until Herod died. In this way, the words were fulfilled: “Out of Egypt, I called my son.”
Reflection: What are you most looking forward to this Christmas, and how could you re-centre that longing on the hope Jesus brings into a world that still bears Herod’s shadows?
“Out of Egypt I called my son” ties Christmas to the whole story of God rescuing a people from slavery. Israel’s exodus was real history and a prophetic picture of something larger: Jesus stepping into our exile and leading a second, deeper exodus. Our chains are not iron but sin—habits of heart and life that we can’t break on our own. Jesus enters the mess, identifies with us, and then leads us out by his faithfulness. Follow him into the wide place of freedom he has opened for you [17:25].
Hosea 11:1–4 — When Israel was young, I loved him, and I called my son out of Egypt. Yet the more I called, the more they wandered, offering sacrifices to empty idols. Still, I taught them how to walk; I took them in my arms, healed them, and led them with cords of gentle kindness.
Reflection: Name one pattern of thought or behaviour that feels like an “Egypt” for you; what is one practical step of trust you will take with Jesus this week to walk out of it?
Hosea’s painful marriage mirrors our story with God: we are loved, we wander, and he comes to buy us back. Like Gomer, we rack up debts we cannot pay and end up trapped by our own choices. God does not abandon us; he pursues us, pays the price, and brings us home. Jesus embodies that redeeming love, settling our account and restoring us to the family table. Let his unfailing kindness draw you to return and rest today [21:43].
Hosea 3:1–3 — The Lord said to Hosea, “Go again—love the woman who has been unfaithful.” So he purchased her back at a cost, brought her home, and set her apart to be his once more, renewing the covenant of love.
Reflection: Where have you drifted from God’s faithful love, and what simple act of return—prayer, confession, or a needed conversation—will you choose today?
Passover was God’s signpost: judgment would sweep through, but the blood of an innocent lamb would shield every home marked by it. That night foreshadowed a greater rescue, when the true Firstborn would shed his innocent blood to cover our guilt. Jesus breaks the slavery of sin and opens the way into a new life as servants of righteousness. This path is costly—deny yourself, pick up your cross—but it is the only path that leads to life. Choose the freedom that flows from his sacrifice [30:22].
Exodus 12:12–13 — I will pass through Egypt and bring judgment, striking down the firstborn. But when I see the blood on your doorframes, I will pass over you, and the plague will not touch you.
Reflection: In the next hard decision you face, what would picking up your cross look like, and how could you choose righteousness over the easier path?
Jesus, the eternal Son, chose obscurity—Bethlehem, then Nazareth—and laid aside his privileges to serve and to save. He did not cling to status; he humbled himself, even to death on a cross, so that you might be lifted into God’s family. Christmas is not only what he gives, but what he gives up—comfort, honour, and ease—for love of you. Resist the drift toward casual faith; answer his love with your whole heart. This Christmas, bring him your true gift: your life, surrendered in trust and worship [39:47].
Philippians 2:5–8 — Let the mindset of Christ be yours: though truly God, he did not grasp at his rights. He emptied himself, took the form of a servant, became human, and humbled himself in obedience all the way to the cross.
Reflection: What gift will you give Jesus this Christmas—a priority surrendered, a practice begun, or a relationship mended—and when will you begin?
As we speed toward Christmas—some of us eager for presents and family, others bracing through grief and stress—I invited us to look for something deeper to anticipate. The texts in Matthew that we often skip at this time of year—Herod’s rage, the flight to Egypt, the tears of Bethlehem—don’t dull the wonder of Christmas; they earth it. They remind us that Christ entered a world of threat and sorrow, and yet his coming carries a hope that is stronger than the darkness.
We traced how Matthew weaves Jesus into the great story of Scripture. Jeremiah’s exile reminds us that unfaithfulness scatters, but God promises to restore. Hosea’s marriage shows us our hearts: like Gomer, we run; like Hosea, God pays our debts and brings us home. Then Matthew quotes, “Out of Egypt I called my son.” It’s not a quaint detour; it’s a spotlight. Israel’s Exodus—slavery, the Passover, the firstborn, the Red Sea—was always pointing forward to Jesus. He is the true Firstborn whose innocent blood secures our rescue; the greater Moses who leads us out; the faithful Son who embodies Israel’s destiny and ours.
This is why Christmas is good news for our real lives. We don’t need seasonal sentiment; we need liberation. We were slaves to sin—willing participants and weary captives. Jesus calls us to drop those chains, take up our cross, and follow him—not into a vague spirituality, but into the freedom of belonging: slaves of righteousness who finally live. He came from obscurity—Nazareth, “Can anything good come from there?”—and laid aside the privileges of glory, not his divinity but his rights, to love us at great cost.
So I asked us a very simple question: What are you giving Jesus this Christmas? He gave his life as our ransom. He gave up heaven’s comfort to find us. Perhaps what he’s asking from you is costly and concrete—your control, your bitterness, that hidden compromise, or the “casual awareness” that keeps him at the fringes. If you’re nine or ninety-one, the invitation stands: Give him your heart. Not as lip service, but as surrendered love. That’s where Christmas power begins.
My plea with you This Christmas Is to really get The real message Of Christmas And give your heart To the LordCommit itRecommit it Ask him to reveal What it is You need to lay down At his feet In order that he would be King of kings And lord of lords Over your lifeAnd that we would avoid Ever falling into the danger Of giving him merely Lip service
[00:39:47]
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#GiveYourHeartThisChristmas
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