Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the east came to Jerusalem saying, “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.”

Matthew 2:1-2

“We three kings of Orient are.” The opening line of the popular carol assumes that there were three individuals and that they were kings. However, Matthew tells us only that three gifts were presented; it does not specify how many people brought them. Furthermore, Matthew describes the visitors as “magi”—a Latin word derived from Old Persian via Greek, which means “magicians” or “wise men,” not kings. The idea that they were kings likely stems from an effort to connect Matthew’s account with certain Messianic prophecies. Psalm 72:10–11 speaks of “kings” bringing gifts to the Messiah (although it mentions them coming from Tarshish, which is to the west). Isaiah 60:6 specifies gifts of gold and frankincense being brought by Gentiles on “camels," which explains the familiar image on Christmas cards of the magi silhouetted against the desert, riding camels across sand dunes.

Matthew doesn’t tell us much about these figures. They were likely pagan astronomer-astrologers—in those days, there was no distinction between observing the heavens and interpreting them—who came “from the east.” These “wise men" correctly interpreted a bright object in the sky (the term “star” could refer to a comet, planetary alignment or some other astronomical phenomena) as signaling the birth of a new “king of the Jews.” Motivated by this sign, they traveled a great distance to pay homage and present gifts to this king (Mt. 2:1–12). Beyond the biblical text, we enter the realm of speculation. While we can make a few educated guesses, we must remember that if the identity and background of the magi were essential, Matthew would have provided more detail.

In ancient Mesopotamia, it was believed that the gods communicated to kings through signs in the heavens. Diviners were scholars who identified and interpreted these signs from a list of omens. The most important of these is the Enuma Anu Enlil (~1500-1000 BC), a collection of about seventy tablets, which diviners used to counsel kings about the future. If the omens were bad, they performed rituals to avert the danger. This kind of celestial divination was especially popular in Babylon when Daniel served as the “chief of the magicians, enchanters, Chaldeans, and astrologers” (Dan. 5:11), but later Persian and Greek rulers sometimes consulted Babylonian astrologers.

For example, Diodorus of Sicily (1st century AD) reports that the Chaldeans predicted Alexander the Great’s victory over Darius of Persia (Library of History, 2.31). While the text doesn’t specify what led to this prediction, a lunar eclipse was visible in Babylon on September 21, 331 BC—just ten days before the decisive Battle of Gaugamela. The Greek historian Arrian of Nicomedia (AD 86-160) corroborates this and also records that a delegation of Babylonians met Alexander with gifts and offered to surrender the city to him (Anabasis of Alexander, 3.16.3). The Roman historian Quintus Curtius Rufus (c. AD 50) describes Alexander’s triumphal entry into Babylon, with roads strewn with flowers and lined with silver altars burning frankincense and other perfumes. He notes that Alexander was met first with gifts, then magi, and then Chaldeans (History of Alexander, 5.19-22). According to Diodorus, eight years later, in 323 BC, Babylonian diviners predicted Alexander’s death by interpreting celestial signs (Library of History, 17.112).

The Enuma Anu Enlil omen list also contains predictions about the coming of a “king of the world.” One such prediction appears in a commentary on Tablet 7, which reads: “Sin [the moon god], (if) during his rising one star proceeds behind him: a king of the world (šar kiššati) will rise, but he will not become old.” This text predates Alexander the Great, who is also referred to as šar kiššati (“king of the world”) in an astronomical diary from 331 BC. However, we do not know whether this omen was ever interpreted in reference to him.

Could Matthew’s “wise men” have drawn from such a text to interpret Jesus as the “king of the Jews”? If so, how did an entry like this find its way into the omen lists? Was it perhaps planted there by Daniel generations before? Could it have been influenced by the prophetic words of the ancient pagan diviner Balaam, who declared, “A star will come from Jacob, and a scepter will arise out of Israel” (Num. 24:17)? Did they hear stories of the coming “king of the Jews” from Israelite exiles? Were Matthew’s magi from Babylon or somewhere else?

All of this is speculative—interesting to consider in light of Jesus who is “the bright morning star” (Rev. 22:16). Asking such questions can be thought-provoking, but when we lack solid evidence, speculation is often unhelpful and can even become dangerous if our imaginations are not well-disciplined.

We also face a theological tension when we remember that practices like divination and interpreting omens are explicitly forbidden in the Torah (Deut. 18:9–14). Ancient Israelites would have considered such astrologers as deluded and foolish (Isa. 44:24-25; 47:13-14). Yet this very tension may highlight the grace and wisdom of God—that he chose to communicate truth to pagan Gentiles in a way they could understand, even while they were engaged in practices condemned by the Torah.

Matthew clearly presents the magi in a positive light, especially when contrasted with Herod and the religious leaders in Jerusalem who knew the correct prophecy regarding the Messiah’s birthplace (Mt. 2:4–6; cf. Mic. 5:2). While they responded with indifference and fear (“troubled”), the magi responded with joy, traveling a great distance and acting on the limited revelation they had. They humbled themselves before Christ (Mt. 2:11a) and honored him with their wealth (2:11b; cf. Isa. 60:1-7). In this way, the true “King of the world” was welcomed not only by ordinary Jews like shepherds (Lk. 2:8–20) but also by extraordinary Gentiles like these “wise men” (Mt. 2:10–11). Indeed, the Gospel is for all!

“While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.”

Genesis 8:22

The changing of the seasons reminds us of God’s power, faithfulness and wisdom. The cycles of nature—fixed and sustained by his hand—each carry a unique beauty. The cold darkness of winter inevitably gives way to the light and warmth of spring, and anticipating that change is itself an act of faith in our Creator. Yet while there is beauty in this constant movement, there is also a kind of tyranny. We experience seasons in life as well—youth, early adulthood, middle age and old age. Each season brings its own blessings, yet each is mingled with frustration. Teenagers long for the freedom of responsibility, while adults long for freedom from responsibility. The old lack the energy of youth, while the young lack the wisdom of old age. In Ecclesiastes 3, the Preacher poetically describes this ebb and flow of life—sometimes gentle, sometimes violent—as we are carried from one moment to its opposite and back again. He presents this rhythm of change as both beautiful and burdensome, a reality we must face with faith.

The tyranny of change (Ecc. 3:1-8) — Change is necessary and good. No one wants a perpetual spring (“a time to plant”) without a harvest (“a time to pluck up what is planted”). Even the negative and tragic seasons of life (“a time to die… kill… weep… mourn… lose… refrain… hate… war”) give beauty and perspective to their opposites if viewed with the right mindset. Yet when we seek permanence and purpose in life, this constant movement can feel oppressive. The Preacher’s famous list in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 reflects life’s unrelenting rhythm: birth and death, planting and uprooting, war and peace. We often find ourselves swept along by events we cannot control, dancing to a tune not of our own making.

No season lasts forever. Whatever we pursue in one season—finding a marriage partner, growing a family, advancing a career, investing in our health, acquiring possessions—does not last into the next season unchanged. Whatever we pursue will eventually give way to its opposite. Sometimes, we may throw ourselves into a meaningful pursuit only to be forced by life’s circumstances to abandon it. The repetition of “a time for this and a time for that” can feel like a burden. Our plans are often at the mercy of forces beyond us.

We’ve all said, “Who would have imagined I’d end up here, doing this?” The peace-loving nation is forced into war (8); the shepherd slaughters the lamb he once nursed back to health (3); the collector sells the treasures he once sought (6); friendships end into bitter conflict (8); the need to keep silent gives way to the need to speak up (7). Life under the sun is full of these unexpected turns, where change not only shapes our days but seems to tyrannically rule over them.

The beauty of change (Ecc. 3:9-15) — Faced with constant change, our natural response may be frustration or despair (9-10). But the Preacher challenges us to see change not as chaos, but as something beautiful—a divine pattern woven by God’s hand (11). We long to understand God’s plan, to see how each moment fits into the whole. Yet our struggle is not with change itself, but with our limited vision. We see only fragments of life’s intricate design, unable to grasp how each season contributes to God’s grand masterpiece.

Rather than offering frozen perfection, God gives us something better: a dynamic, kaleidoscopic mystery. Each season has its own time to blossom and bear fruit, and each is “beautiful in its time” (11a). We catch glimpses of this beauty, even in hardship, but we can’t see the full picture “from beginning to end” (11b) as God does. God has placed “eternity” in our hearts—a longing to understand the lasting purpose behind life’s fleeting moments—but we are not meant to figure it all out (“he cannot find out what God has done”). Like standing too close to a giant painting, we can sense its quality and design, but only God sees the whole.

The faithful response is not despair, but trust. While life’s mysteries may trouble the unbeliever, the believer finds joy in God’s gifts (12-13). We embrace our time under the sun as a gift and do good with what we’ve been given, knowing all our blessings are from God’s hand. Even though our work is temporary, God’s work endures forever (14). We often strive for a legacy, but only by submitting to God’s will can we become part of his eternal masterpiece (Eph. 2:10; Rev. 14:13).

God’s control over life’s seasons is not oppressive, but comforting. Nothing is wasted or forgotten; all is known to him. History is not just an endless cycle (1:9); it is God’s story, unfolding according to his purpose. What is past, he will call to account (15), and what seems random or lost, he will bring to light. For the person of faith, this truth anchors us: life is not meaningless motion, but calculated movement toward God’s eternal purpose (Rom. 8:28-30).

The permanence of Christ — We often long for stability in a world that constantly shifts around us. But in the midst of life’s disruptions, we find peace in the unchanging nature of Jesus Christ, who is “the same yesterday, today, and forever” (Heb. 13:8). Though the seasons of life move beyond our control, they are never beyond his. Change is not random, and it is never wasted. When anchored to Christ (Heb. 6:19), even the most unsettling moments become part of a greater story—a story of grace, transformation and eternal purpose.

As we walk through the changing seasons of life, may we do so with faith—not just enduring the shifts, but trusting the One who orders them. For in the end, change itself is not our enemy, but often the very means by which God makes us more like Christ (Rom. 8:28-30).

And Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man.

Luke 2:52

In Luke’s Gospel account, he tells of the birth and infancy of Jesus, then fast-forwards to a story when Jesus was twelve years old (2:41-51). In chapter 3, Luke time-warps again to tell us of Jesus’ ministry when he “was about thirty years of age” (3:23). All he provides of the life of Christ in the interim is a one-verse summary reporting that he “increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man” (2:52). The Bible gives us no other details about this time.

These “lost years” of Jesus have caused some wild and, more often than not, conflicting speculation. In the decades and centuries following Jesus’ earthly ministry, many texts were written attempting to fill in that large gap. The so-called “infancy gospels,” written in the 2nd to 3rd centuries, include sensationalized stories about the boy Jesus doing miracles: chastising his schoolteachers; bumping into kids while playing, then striking them dead only to raise them up again; shaping clay birds, then making them come to life, etc. Examples are the Gospel of James, the Infancy Gospel of Thomas, and the Arabic Infancy Gospel.

These texts were written long after the 1st century by cultish groups who broke from Christian doctrine. While these stories are interesting, they are not historically reliable. The earliest sources report that the people from Jesus’ hometown of Nazareth were surprised when he began to do miracles (Mt. 13:54-58; Mk. 6:1-6) and rejected him (Lk. 4:16-30). If Jesus were doing regular miracles as a boy, why would the villagers be surprised by Jesus’ supernatural abilities as an adult? There is no merit to the fanciful stories of the “infancy gospels.”

One of the more popular stories claims that teenage Jesus traveled to India and was influenced by the teachings of Buddhism and Hinduism. This theory of his supposed pilgrimage to the East was popularized by a Russian journalist from the 19th century named Nicolas Notovitch. He claimed to have found a Tibetan text called The Life of Saint Issa in a Buddhist monastery which recorded Jesus’ journey to India, then further east to Nepal, to study with Buddhist monks and Hindus before returning to Judea. Then, in 1894, he published his claims in a book entitled The Unknown Life of Jesus Christ.

Is there any merit to Notovitch’s claim? In short, no, and here’s why.

First, consider the distance covered. From Galilee to Nepal is about 4,000 miles as the crow flies. However, for a poor Jewish peasant traveling on foot in the 1st century, navigating river crossings and mountain passes, the journey would have been considerably longer. Such a voyage is possible but not probable. According to Notovitch’s claim, Jesus would have traveled farther east than even Alexander the Great during his conquests 400 years earlier.

Second, listen closely to Jesus’ teaching. They were deeply rooted in Jewish monotheism and contrast with Eastern worldviews in several important ways. He taught that there was one, transcendent, relational Being who is distinct from the universe he created. Eastern religions, such as Hinduism, embrace polytheism (the belief in many gods) or pantheism (the belief that God is identical to the universe). Buddhism focuses on discovering the true nature of reality (that “self” is an illusion) through enlightenment. Christ taught that God is the foundation for all reality, being the Creator and Author of life, and that ‘enlightenment’ only comes through a relationship with him (Mt. 22:37-38). Spiritual liberation in Eastern religions (achieving nirvana in Buddhism, cessation from suffering; achieving moksha in Hinduism, escaping the cycle of karma) comes through self-effort. In contrast, Jesus taught that spiritual liberation (forgiveness of sins, receiving eternal life) is a divine gift of grace that can never be earned. Jesus’ central message, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe the gospel” (Mk. 1:15), would have made no sense to Eastern mystics.

Third, look deeper into Notovitch’s claims. Digging deeper into Notovitch’s claims reveals that they were a hoax. Shortly after Notovitch published his findings in The Unknown Life of Christ, Lama Lobsang, the head of the Hemis Monastery in Ladakh, where he claimed to have found the ancient Tibetan manuscript chronicling Jesus’ journey to the East, publicly stated that no Russian had ever visited the monastery and that no such writing on ‘Saint Issa’ existed there. Once scholars exposed Notovitch, who, by this time, had gained a good deal of wealth and notoriety through his claims, he confessed to fabricating the whole thing.

Despite all the evidence against Notovitch’s claim, it still makes the rounds in shallow documentaries (ahem—National Geographic, we’re looking at you!) and poorly researched articles. Why do people hold any regard for this myth? I suppose we’re enamored with the idea of secret knowledge, that the tradition view is always the wrong view, that “the truth” is being kept from us. There is something mysteriously attractive about uncovering hidden conspiracies, but in this case, the only conspiracy was Notovitch’s.

A question worth asking is, why is Jesus’ childhood largely undocumented in the Gospels? Mathew, Mark, Luke, and John were not simply negligent biographers. Rather, they wrote with a specific goal in mind. Though their writings are historical and report events that occurred, their primary goal was to elicit faith (Jn. 20:30-3; Lk. 1:1-4), not catalogue a full history of Jesus’ life. It’s not that Jesus’ childhood was unimportant, but that it must not have contributed to that goal. So they focused instead on the adult ministry of Jesus. Christ came to establish God’s kingdom. The authors record everything we need to enter into that kingdom.

Two weeks ago in our sermon series on Christian evidences, we established the Biblical significance of Christ’s resurrection and examined the historical evidence that supports it. We now want to conclude that series by listing the main competing theories skeptics put forward against the resurrection — the alternatives to the resurrection.

Theory #1: The disciples were either deceivers or deceived — Paul admits that the apostles would be liars if Christ had not been raised (1 Cor. 15:14-15). But if the apostles invented the lie, what was their motive? Usually people lie for some personal gain. Instead of gaining wealth, power, status or security, the apostles lost these things for believing in and preaching the resurrection. While many would die for a lie that they believed to be true, no one would die for what they knew to be false. There is no conceivable motive, nor is their any logical reason, to fabricate such a lie. Consider the prevailing beliefs of Jews at the time: first, they were waiting for a militant, victorious Messiah who would liberate them from their Gentile oppressors, not a peaceful, suffering Messiah who would die for the sins of the whole world; second, they were waiting for a general resurrection at the end of time, not an individual resurrection occurring in the middle of history. Despite telling them multiple times that he would be rejected, crucified and be raised on the third day, the apostles all fled from him after his arrest, believed his crucifixion to be an utter failure and did not believe the initial reports of the empty tomb and the resurrection. These facts make it highly unlikely that the apostles were simply deceived.

Theory #2: The postmortem appearances of Jesus were hallucinations — There are two main problems with this theory. First, hallucinations are usually individual experiences not group phenomena. There was a diversity of people at different times and different locations who witnessed the same person through multiple modes of perception: sight, hearing and touch. It stretches credulity that all these people could have experienced the same hallucination. Second, hallucinations usually come through intense wish fulfillment. However, after his arrest, the disciples had given up Jesus for dead. Disciples like James, the Lord’s brother who did not initially believe in him (Jn. 7:5), and Paul, who persecuted Christians (Acts 8:1-3), certainly were not “wishing” to see a resurrected Jesus. Yet, they both saw him risen from the dead (1 Cor. 15:7-8).

Theory #3: The corpse of Jesus was stolen from the tomb — This was the story propagated by the Jewish leaders at the time (Mt. 27:62-66; 28:11-15). However, the disciples lacked both the means and the motive for a corpse heist. The Gospel writers all describe the apostles as scared, scattered and in hiding. But according to this theory, we must believe that they somehow got up the courage to come out of hiding, sneak past the Roman guard posted at the tomb, roll away the stone, extricate the body, then betray their Lord’s teaching by spreading a blatant lie that invited the hostility of Jerusalem and the world to their own earthly hurt. Even if grave robbery could explain the empty tomb—and it cannot—it still does not account for all the resurrection appearances.

Theory #4: The differences between resurrection accounts invalidate them — Some claim the Gospel accounts of the resurrection do not harmonize because they do not report the exact same details. However, with a little careful reading we can see they compliment, not contradict, each other. Consider that all four Gospel accounts agree on the core facts: Jesus died, he was buried in the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea, early Sunday morning certain women went to the tomb and found it empty, they met an angel or angels, they either told or else discovered that Jesus had been raised, and that Jesus subsequently appeared to a number of people at differ times. Consider also, that genuine eyewitness accounts, while agreeing on the core facts, should differ in the details they report. Historians call this the “complexity of truth.” When multiple people witness the same event, their testimonies are bound to exhibit some differences that reflect their unique points of view. These differences actually serve to confirm their testimony as evidence of non-collusion. When people conspire to fabricate a story, their testimonies are suspiciously identical. Any differences between the resurrection accounts in the Gospels are not discrepancies or contradictions; they are variations in perspective that reflect independent eyewitness testimony, enhancing rather than undermining their trustworthiness.

For example, Matthew and Mark record that an angel spoke to the women at Jesus’ empty tomb (Mk. 16:1-8; Mt. 28:1-10). Luke and John record that two angels were present (Lk. 24:4; Jn. 20:12). Rather than contradicting Matthew and Mark, Luke and John supplement Matthew’s and Mark’s narrative. We don’t need to necessarily read Matthew and Mark as saying that one, and only one, angel was present at the tomb. For example, both the Greek historian Polybius and the Roman historian Livy describe Hannibal’s crossing the Alps during the Second Punic War. Their accounts greatly differ in detail and style and even appear to contradict each other at certain points, yet no historian questions whether Hannibal made the journey. Why then do people discount the resurrection when the differences between the Gospel accounts are far less egregious?

Conclusion — After all the evidence for the resurrection has been presented and all the alternative theories have been heard, we are essentially left with two options: a) one simple, cohesive, supernatural explanation, or b) multiple, complex, contradictory, supernatural explanations. Ockham’s Razor is a philosophical principle that states that the simplest explanation that accounts for all the facts is usually the best and that we should always avoid unnecessary assumptions when explaining something. For example, if you flip the light switch in your closet and the light doesn’t come on, do you assume (a) the light bulb has burned out or (b) that aliens invaded your house and sabotaged your wiring?

These are the very best alternative theories to the Biblical account of the resurrection — the body was stolen, Jesus swooned on cross and revived in the grave, the witnesses experienced mass hallucination, the women visited the wrong tomb, Christians borrowed the idea of the resurrection from pagan myths, the resurrection developed later as myth, etc. They all require multiple assumptions and all suffer major flaws. The only option that accounts for all the historical facts is the story presented in the New Testament. But because it is a supernatural explanation, many people dismiss it a priori.

The Greeks didn’t believe in a bodily resurrection at all. Most Jews believed in a bodily resurrection, but only on the last day. In the New Testament, the thing that Greeks thought impossible and Jews thought was reserved for the future, happened in the present. Our anti-supernatural, Enlightenment-based culture chafes at the concept of the resurrection. You’ve heard the evidence for it and read the alternatives to it. What do you think?

Then the devil took him to the holy city and set him on the pinnacle of the temple and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down, for it is written, “‘He will command his angels concerning you,’ and “‘On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.’” Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.’”

Matthew 4:5-7

In the verses above, Matthew records the second temptation of Jesus. There are many things to learn but notice how the devil misuses Scripture. He brings Jesus to the highest point in the temple complex, possibly the eastern peak of the Royal Stoa overlooking the Kidron Valley 300 feet below, and tells him to jump. If he really is God’s Son, then God would surely save him because of what Scripture says in Psalm 91:11-12: “He will command his angels concerning you,” and “On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.”

If you turn back to that Psalm you will notice that Satan quotes the passage accurately. That is, in fact, what God’s word says… but it is not what God’s word means. Going back to the Psalm and reading it in its entirely reveals the bigger picture. Psalm 91 extols God’s faithfulness. He protects all those who flee to him for refuge. It would be a mistake, however, to take the Psalmist’s words as a guarantee that saints will never experience pain, injury or loss (see Psalm 73 or any of the prophets). Psalms are poetry and often speak in general, sometimes proverbial, terms. This doesn’t make the words any less true or comforting to us. Though we experience hardship, God does protect and deliver his people.

Satan misuses the text in an effort to manipulate Jesus. The Lord responds by quoting another Scripture, this one from Deuteronomy 6:16: “You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.” Satan’s application of Psalm 91 (prove your faith by jumping off the building) violated a clear principle outlined in Deuteronomy 6 (don’t test God like Israel did in the wilderness, see Ex. 17:1-7). Satan’s example warns us against certain dangerous approaches to Scripture.

The danger of oversimplification — Sometimes we say about a passage “It says what it means and it means what it says,” as if that should end any debate about its interpretation. To be sure, some verses are very straightforward and are easily grasped—and we often make the opposite error of overcomplicating what is simple. But others, like Psalm 91:11-12, require more than a surface reading. It says God will “command his angels concerning you” and promises “their hands will bear you up.” So, saints never fall down or experience pain in life because God protects them with his angels, right? That’s what it says! Psalm 91 just isn’t that simple. Oversimplifying the text will result in all sorts of twisted applications.

The danger of ignoring context — The context in which something is said is part of what it means. What comes before and after a text always matters. We wouldn’t like it if someone took our words out of context. How much more careful ought we to be with God’s? Who is speaking and who they are speaking to also matters. Jesus promised the Holy Spirit’s direct guidance to the apostles (Jn. 14:26). This was not a universal promise of infallible memory and direct revelation for all Christians, but a specific promise for the apostles to help them with their task of teaching the Gospel. Even the style in which something is written matters. For example, we read Hebrew poetry like Psalms differently than we do historical narrative like 1 Samuel. Then there’s the context of the Bible as a whole. God’s word will not contradict itself; in light of Deuteronomy 6:16, Satan’s application of Psalm 91 was a dead giveaway. If we lift verses out of their original context we are much more likely to draw the wrong the conclusions.

The danger of proof-texting — A “proof text” is a passage of Scripture chosen as a proof for certain beliefs or practices. While it is absolutely vital that we ground our convictions in God’s word, there’s a major difference between basing our beliefs in the text and finding the text to support our beliefs. If we begin with an idea and try to find justification for it in the Bible, chances are we’ll find what we’re looking for whether it’s there or not. Reading Scripture with this confirmation bias will cause us to interpret verses in a way that supports our previously held views, often ignoring or downplaying other ideas that challenge them. This outcome-based approach to Bible study is especially common for emotionally charged issues and deeply entrenched beliefs. Such an approach is a far cry from the noble Bereans’ who “received the word with all eagerness” (Acts 17:11).

The danger of shortcuts — Studying the Bible is always rewarding but it can sometimes be frustrating because, while the Bible tells us everything we need to know (2 Tim. 3:16-17), it doesn’t always answer every question we have with the specificity and precision we would prefer. We want flowcharts, formulas and organized recipes, but that’s just not the way God chose to communicate to us. Instead he gives us poems, histories, parables and narratives that contain commands, warnings, encouragements as well as negative and positive examples. God expects us to patiently and prayerfully read and reason through these texts, draw appropriate conclusions and build our convictions on what we find. If we approach Scripture less like mathematicians looking for a neat formula and more like lawyers building a cumulative case for our beliefs, we might not have all the answers but we will have a strong faith beyond any reasonable doubt.

God’s word is a gift to be received, not a gimmick to be exploited. We honor God by reading it carefully, thinking it through critically and applying it faithfully—never twisting the truth for convenience, but seeking the truth for transformation.