Mary must have had a lot of time on her hands. No doubt she sat near the manger, in an idyllic pose, pondering, right?

My guess is no. Joseph had to find a place to live and work to make money to keep a roof over their heads and food in their cupboard. Mary needed a means to clean up her baby boy, not just after birth, but every time he needed to be cleaned. Those swaddling clothes wouldn’t stay clean for long. Water must be fetched, food must be made, and how does one keep a manger clean?

Mary pondered because she took the time to ponder.

To ponder means to think carefully about something. Its Latin root is “to weigh” or “to reflect on.” The old French means “to consider.” Mary considered, weighed, reflected on all God was doing around her.

Sometimes we ruminate on all the wrong things. We notice the ways the people around us aren’t carrying their weight. We consider the sin in this world and the apathy of people who could do something about it. Circumstances, the never-ending laundry or dishes, the illness, the shrinking paycheck, weigh us down.

The apostle Paul suggests we avoid that. “Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things” (Philippians 4:8).

In his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus spoke about worry, something that consumes a lot of us a lot of the time. After commanding us not to worry and giving us good reason not to worry, he concluded by saying, “Seek first the kingdom of God” (Matthew 6:33).

First seek God.

How different would our days be if we were to seek God first?

I have an hour-long commute to work. During the last ten minutes of the commute I put a Christian worship song on, because I’ve noticed that if I do, that song goes through my head all day long.

Reading the Bible right away in the morning sets the tone for the day. Today my reading from 1 Timothy was about avoiding distractions and godless chatter (social media!) and instead focusing on and teaching what is true. Hours later, it is still shaping the direction of my day.

We fall into bad habits, but seeking requires action. You can seek wealth or power or fame or entertainment, but they often leave us as empty as we started.

God says, “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart” (Jeremiah 29:13).

When you seek God, you will find him. The effort is rewarded every time.

And what do we get out of it? God’s love is everlasting. It doesn’t wax and wane depending on our attitude or energy. And we’re told God “…will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast” (Isaiah 26:3). Perfect (absolute, complete) peace is ours even in the midst of chaos. And if any of us lacks wisdom (insight as to what to do), James tells us God will freely give it (James 1:5). He does that as we open his Word.

When we don’t make time for God, we are giving ourselves over to the craziness and delusions of the world, the frantic pace, the never-ending striving, the “never enough” mentality.

When we step back and look at it objectively, on the scales of life, it’s so clear to see God lifts us up, encourages us, and gives us strength to endure. The devil, the world, and our sinful flesh drag us down, leave us spinning in negative thoughts and habits, and leave us empty.

Pray. Open the Bible. Worship. They’re the most important things you do each day.

Rarely are we in this kind of life-threatening danger. But if we’re honest, a lot of us find ourselves in seemingly impossible situations all the time.

This child just doesn’t understand potty-training.

That child just doesn’t “get” how to drive.

This marriage seems impossible.

The bills, the job, the health crisis, taking care of mom or dad…

God glories in impossible situations, because our impossibles are completely possible to him. He urges us to “Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you will honor me” (Psalm 50:15).

Moses knew he wouldn’t be able to lead the children of Israel. But God could lead the children of Israel through Moses (the book of Exodus). Gideon couldn’t defeat the vast Midianite and Amalekite armies. But God could and did defeat the armies while Gideon and his 300 soldiers watched (Judges 6-7). Joshua didn’t chisel the walls of Jericho until they fell. He led the people around the walls, and God toppled the walls, and they became piles of rubble (Joshua 5-6).

We don’t have to lose sleep or wonder how things will fall into place. We can place our heartaches and struggles in God’s capable arms and step out in faith while he brings everything together.

Sometimes that takes a long time. The path of the Christian is one of faithful obedience in the waiting seasons, even when those seasons tarry.

Abraham continued to worship and obey while waiting 25 years for a son (Genesis 12-21). Daniel faithfully carried out his duties with impeccable morality while serving heathen rulers his entire adult life (the book of Daniel). Hannah knew her only hope was God. And she went to him again, even after suffering for years with infertility and the taunting of her husband’s other wife (1 Samuel 1).

The Canaanite woman didn’t cry out just once for Jesus to heal her daughter. She kept crying out, until the disciples wanted to send her away. Only then did Jesus tell her he was sent to the people of Israel. Still, she knelt before Jesus and begged for help. And when Jesus said it wasn’t right to take the children’s bread and give it to the dogs, she asked for just a crumb—and her daughter was healed (Matthew 15:21-28).

Do not give up on your impossible situations, and do not give up on your prayers. Many great men and women in the Bible found themselves stuck, and for many, deliverance didn’t come at once.

Paul Kretzmann, in his Popular Commentary of the Bible, said, “Even if all experience of man is against a Christian in his prayer, he trusts in the merciful Father for help and, in child-like faith, brings his petition before the throne of God again and again.”¹

Our modern eyes can see rich symbolism in the gifts presented by the Magi. Gold: a royal gift, fit for a king. Frankincense (incense): a religious gift, fit for a god. Myrrh: a loving gift used in embalming, fit for one who would suffer and die. Each of these gifts highlights a particular aspect of Jesus’ character; each conveys a piece of the story about this newborn Messiah.

The Magi, however, almost certainly didn’t intend any of this symbolism. They didn’t know that the one they were seeking, the one who had been born king of the Jews, embodied the union of divinity and humanity. They didn’t fully understand the heavenly (rather than earthly) nature of this King’s rule. They didn’t have any concept of the fate that awaited Jesus approximately 30 years later at the cross. They simply wanted to present Jesus with precious gifts from their homeland, items that meant a great deal to them, treasures to be shared.

I don’t know about you, but it’s not always easy for me to offer my time, talents, and treasures to Jesus. I’m busy—who isn’t?—and relaxing at the end of a long day sounds much more appealing than opening my Bible or devotion book. Yes, I use my musical gifts in service to my church, but sometimes it feels like no one really appreciates all the work I’m putting in. And sure, I support the church financially—except when I look at my stack of offering envelopes and am surprised by how many weeks have passed since I put one in the basket.

It would be easy to turn this devotion into law, to remind you that God has given you the greatest gift possible and that, in return, you have an obligation to give everything back to him. Law isn’t always a bad thing, and sometimes that’s the message that we need to hear. But our gifts are much more joyful, much more treasures to be shared than obligations to be fulfilled, when our giving has a gospel-centered focus. God has indeed given us the greatest gift possible. Therefore, how can we do anything other than present him with our greatest treasures?

And sometimes, we find unexpected blessings that come from presenting God with our greatest treasures. We have the privilege of intentionally considering what those greatest treasures actually are. What do you value the most, and how can you use that which you value in service to God? Presenting our treasures also often takes the form of serving others with love and good works. When we turn outward, when we see how our greatest treasures can be used to benefit our neighbor, we often can’t help but rejoice in the midst of this service.

The Magi took much more with them than they left behind. Yes, they left behind treasures—but they took with them the news and knowledge of God’s greatest treasure, of the One who would give himself for the salvation of the world. When we use our gifts in service to God and to our neighbor, may we also receive far more than we give!

What kind of mental picture do you have of Simeon? Perhaps one of an old, wizened man, with a life extended beyond what could naturally be expected, close to death but still hanging on because of the promise that he would not die before seeing the Messiah? Maybe… but maybe not.

Luke doesn’t tell us anything about how old Simeon was or how long he had been waiting. We know from Luke’s choice of words that Simeon had been waiting expectantly, with eager anticipation, but not necessarily for a long time. And we also don’t know that Simeon’s words in today’s reading indicate that he was ready to die. In fact, they might mean exactly the opposite.

The specific words Simeon used carry the picture of a sentry being relieved from his post, or a slave being dismissed from his duty, or a servant being assigned to a different task now that his current task has been completed. In other words, Simeon may not have been saying, “Lord, I’m ready to die.” He may have been saying, “Lord, I’m ready to live.”

Like Simeon, we too have seen God’s salvation. We see it in the manger on that first Christmas night. We see it in Jesus’ teaching and preaching and miracles throughout his three years of earthly ministry. We see it in the Palm Sunday procession and the Good Friday crucifixion and the Easter Sunday resurrection. We see it in Jesus’ ascension into heaven on the Mount of Olives, and we’ll see it again one day when he comes again in glory.

And here’s the best part: we’ve been given a calling to carry out during our time on this earth, a command to make disciples of all nations, a purpose as we too say, “Lord, I’m ready to live.” We have the best news of all to share with a broken and dying world, and we have the privilege of living out this good news through our words and actions every single day. We have the sure and certain hope of heaven, and we have the joy of strengthening our sisters and brothers in the faith with this hope. We have good works that were prepared in advance for us to do, and we have the spiritual gifts to complete those good works in service to God and to our neighbor. We have so much living to do!

At my church, we use the Compline liturgy during midweek Lent services. I love closing the worship service by singing these words of Simeon in the Nunc Dimittis and then leaving the light and warmth of the church building for the dark and chill of the world. Yes, Simeon may have been an old man close to death. But he may also have had quite a bit of life left, a life that he lived for God. Eventually, we’ll all be called home by God. In the meantime, though, we’re called to live for him now—a calling that we’re privileged to carry out every day.

You just heard the most amazing news but made a promise not to share it. The time isn’t right and it isn’t your news to share, so you hold it close to the vest even though you feel like you could burst. This phenomenon goes against our natural human inclination to share good news with those around us—we just can’t help it!

The shepherds had news to share that was like none other. The long-awaited Messiah, Christ the Lord, had been born in Bethlehem. A multitude of angels announcing the birth had just illuminated the night sky above their sheep in the Judean countryside. The shepherds could hardly contain the news. They journeyed to the manger, found everything just as the angel had said, and spread the word on their way back to their fields that night. They couldn’t help it!

Although the shepherds were not commanded to keep the good news of Jesus to themselves, Peter and John were. After healing a crippled man, they were brought in front of the Sanhedrin and ordered not to speak about Jesus’ death and resurrection anymore. Their response is recorded in Acts 4:20: “As for us, we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard.” In spite of the directive to keep silent, they refused to do so. This message had eternal implications for all who would hear it, so no demand of the Sanhedrin or persecution would stop them from sharing it. They couldn’t help it.

We have this same gospel message to share. We too know this Jesus—born, crucified, and resurrected for us. And astonishingly, he gives this incredible news of grace to flawed, sinful people and uses us to proclaim it. But what about us? Do we find ourselves overflowing with excitement and unable to keep this news to ourselves, or does fear prevent us from sharing? Do we share Jesus unapologetically, or does concern for what others may think get in the way?

This Advent season, we can pray for a heart like the shepherds that is bursting with joy about the news of Jesus. As the joy of Jesus bubbles up in our hearts, we can search for opportunities to let his light shine in our lives and relationships with others. Whatever holds us back from sharing this eternity-changing news, we can pray that those obstacles would be replaced with boldness.

Consider the outcome of the shepherds’ witness testimony of the Savior’s birth that first Christmas night. Luke tells us that all who heard it were amazed. First, as we consider our Savior’s birth, we too revisit a place of marvel and awe at the depths of God’s grace for sinners. Then, as we share that awe, may the Holy Spirit work through our testimony to bring others to faith. The story of God’s grace is too wonderful not to share—we just can’t help it!

It happened in an instant. I walked out the front door to pick up a package and before I could do anything about it, a gust of wind slammed it shut. The keys were inside, the door was locked, and the extra set of keys was out of town in my husband’s pocket. I was on the outside looking in. No matter how many times I rattled the doorknob or walked around the house searching for an unlocked window to climb in, I wasn’t going to get in.

All it took was Satan’s masquerade as a friendly snake and a taste of forbidden fruit. After that moment, Adam and Eve were locked out. They were sent out of the very garden in which Adam had named the animals. They were banished from the place where they had lived in perfection and walked with God. This separation from God was not just for the two of them, but for every person born into this world. A world that was once perfect became tainted with sin and filled with strife and hardship. Sin, in a single moment, had shattered the peace between God and man and created a chasm that no one could cross.

Thankfully, that wasn’t the end of the story. As we read the angels’ words in Luke 2, we hear of the solution to this shattered peace between God and man. In a small town that was bursting at the seams because of a greedy politician, God fulfilled his almighty plans to insert peace into a broken world. In a manger in that crowded town lay the One who would live the perfect life we could not, die the death we deserved, and rise to life triumphantly, restoring peace between man and God.

This peace is different from what the world expects and is not what our sinful hearts desire. Too often, we want conflict ended, a comfortable existence, and smooth sailing here on earth. Yet, that isn’t the peace that Jesus brings. The peace of Jesus is far greater than that. The peace of Jesus is knowing that because of his sacrifice, our relationship with God has been restored. The peace of Jesus is knowing that we stand in God’s grace even when the world around us crumbles. The peace of Jesus tempers any earthly uncertainty with unshakable hope in a heavenly future. While this peace will never eliminate earthly struggle, it gives us hope and a future in spite of it.

That first Christmas night, the angels both proclaimed the birth of the One who brought peace and praised God because of it. We too echo the words of the angels. We glorify God with our words and our lives and share that true peace with the world around us. By grace, we are no longer on the outside looking in. Instead we have peace with God. We stand firm in this peace, which sustains us in this life until we join the angel choirs praising him for eternity in heaven.

This fall, we drove our youngest daughter 1,600 miles away from home to begin her high school education at one of our church synod’s schools. We did the same thing with our first three daughters, sending them excruciatingly far away at the age of 14. Explaining this choice to others is almost impossible. I can see them mentally sifting through the possibilities: “Hmm, that kid must need boot camp,” or “Those parents must not really love their kid.” Finally, they offer up the least offensive reaction they can muster: “She must be so excited to live in a dorm!”

No, definitely not, and not yet.

We send our children because we want them to stay close to Jesus. We want them to continue to plumb the depths of his Word. To develop lifelong Christian friends. To be taught by adults who confess Christ, not ridicule him. We want their ears and hearts to be filled with Jesus before they enter an unbelieving world that will try to drown God out.

But it’s a sacrifice.

Sometimes families do hard things for good reasons. Sometimes hard things are thrust on them.

In Mary’s final term of pregnancy, she had to do a hard thing. A census was ordered by the Roman government. Everyone was to be counted in their ancestral towns. Mary and Joseph had to head to Bethlehem, over 90 miles away. They must have shared a long look—an ancient prophecy spoke of that small city: “But you, Bethlehem… out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times” (Micah 5:2). Clearly, God was maneuvering events so that his words could be fulfilled.

But why did it have to be so hard?

My family’s 1,600-mile trip took 27 hours. We had smooth roads, a vehicle, and comfortable beds on every leg of the trip. Mary’s trip could have taken up to a week on foot, through the rocky territory of wild animals and outlaws, through dust storms and rainstorms… and all this in her third trimester. No bath or mattress at the end of a long day. And when they finally reached Bethlehem, it was so crowded that they were forced to seek lodging in a stable.

Many people object to the idea of a loving God who allows suffering. Even Christians sometimes measure his love by the good in our lives, not the bad. When we struggle, our doubts magnify. We might think God’s not real. God doesn’t really love us.

But remember God’s Son. From his first breath in a stable to his last breath on a Roman cross, Jesus identified as a humble servant, as much a Savior for the lost and lowly as for the privileged and powerful, accessible to all.

Why do our Christian lives include hardship? One reason is to help us form that same identity: we are God’s servants. We can meet others in their struggles because we’ve been there too. We can serve without counting the cost.

Zechariah the priest stands alone in the hazy interior of the Holy Place, where he’s about to burn incense to God. He and his wife Elizabeth are childless and old. Nevertheless, the prayer for a child has run through their minds for decades.

Suddenly, an angel appears. Zechariah goes rigid with fear. But the angel Gabriel assures him, “Do not be afraid; your prayer has been heard. Your wife, Elizabeth, will bear you a son. You are to give him the name John… He will bring people back to God and get them ready for the Lord.”

In other words, Zechariah’s child would be the messenger God had promised, 400 years earlier, to send. The messenger that would prepare the way for the Savior.

There, in those holy surroundings, in the startling company of God’s angel, Zechariah has a very human reaction: “How can I be sure of this? I am old and my wife is well along in years.”

Does it surprise you, the doubt that tumbles from the mouth of a lifelong priest? Does it surprise you to think that a priest’s prayers might have become more habit than hope? Does it surprise you… or can you relate?

Sometimes the loudest opposition to God’s promises comes from inside our own heads.

“Will God really provide all that I need, or should I just fudge a little on my timecard and taxes?”

“Does God really forgive this sin that keeps me awake at night?”

“Can God ever turn this horrible, heart-wrenching loss into something good?”

But when Zechariah’s doubts go head-to-head with God’s promises, his doubts are literally silenced. God takes away Zechariah’s voice. And as his elderly wife swells with a miracle child, Zechariah’s inner doubts are silenced too.

When Elizabeth gives birth to a son, her friends and family share her joy. They arrive for the baby’s circumcision and naming. They decide, by committee, to name him after his father Zechariah. But Elizabeth speaks up and says, “No! He is to be called John.”

Elizabeth, who hasn’t had the luxury of discussing with her silent husband all the angel had said about their child, is nevertheless convinced that all of it is true. Every prenatal kick, every twinge, every moment of queasiness during her months of isolation affirmed the miracle. And she is willing to contradict a room full of relatives and friends if it means obeying God.

Her name choice is met with shocked confusion. John? Why?? John isn’t a family name! The group now turns to Zechariah, seeking his mute opinion. To everyone’s astonishment, he writes, “His name is John.”

And immediately, God returns Zechariah’s voice. He begins to speak, no longer in doubt but with praise.

God’s discipline of Zechariah might seem extreme. But I would bet that Zechariah’s spiritual parenting of John was the better for his months of silent contemplation. This Advent, let’s find time to quietly ponder God’s promises, repent of our doubts, and pray for courage to witness to those around us.

It’s no secret that Mary isn’t given a lot of credit in the Lutheran church compared to other church bodies. We don’t hold her up on a high pedestal. We don’t venerate her as the epitome of womanhood or motherhood.

Guess what? She didn’t think much of herself either.

Look at her words. She calls herself a servant in a humble state. That’s a nice way of saying she was probably poor or lower class. Later in the book of Luke, we learn that she and Joseph could only afford an inexpensive offering to sacrifice when they presented Jesus at the temple.

Mary knows she is not some noble lady from an upper echelon of society. Going back to her earlier question of “How will this be?” she might even be asking, “Why me? Are you sure? Don’t you mean some other woman?”

I wonder if Mary would question all the honor and prayers she receives even today, generations after her death. Her words sure indicate that very thing because she knows it’s not about her. It’s all about God.

“My soul glorifies the Lord.”

“My spirit rejoices in God my Savior.”

“From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me—holy is his name.”

It’s all about God. It’s not about Mary, and she knew that. She might have been scared and nervous and questioning the rightness of what was happening, but she knew that it was all because of God. She would only be remembered for generations because God picked her to be a part of the fulfillment of the promise he made to Adam and Eve, the promise that still impacts us today: a Savior.

Can we say that? Can we say, “It’s not about me; it’s about how God can use me to share this good news of promises fulfilled?” This is no time to pat ourselves on the back for being a good person. It is all for his glory.

So should we give Mary more credit as Jesus’ mother? I would say yes, we should. Mary’s own words direct us to glorify and rejoice in God. But Mary also certainly had the most unique motherhood out of anyone in the past, present, or future. And she did it all without taking credit.

She pretty much had the right to gloat about her perfect child, but I’m guessing she didn’t. She tried her best in unusual circumstances without the benefit of wealth or status. She was just humble, normal Mary with an extraordinary son. Can you imagine how she could have boasted that her son saved the world, but at what cost? A “weight of the whole world” cost she couldn’t imagine. She endured the pain of watching her son, her baby, dying a horrific death on a cross, but also found joy in her resurrected Savior.

Call her blessed. Give her credit—not for her greatness, but for her testament of faith bringing the focus back where it belongs: to God who did and does all these things. Holy is his name.

Is there a person in your family who is the quiet glue? You know the person. Things wouldn’t get done if it weren’t for this person, or it wouldn’t feel right if they weren’t there. Perhaps this is the person that you need at a family gathering to keep the peace. They are the link that keeps everyone together.

Joseph could have easily been replaced by another man who traced his ancestry back to Abraham. Or he could have been left out of the situation entirely. And yet God chose Joseph to be Jesus’ earthly father—not because of his job or his social standing, but because of the kind of man he was. In many ways, Joseph would serve like that family glue, would be a steady presence, would provide just what Jesus and Mary needed. If it weren’t for Joseph, Jesus’ earthly family wouldn’t have been the same.

We don’t know much about Joseph, but what we do know points to a strong sense of honor, family, and integrity. He didn’t want to bring disgrace to Mary, the unwed mother. He was faithful and obviously knew the promise of a Savior. He kept the laws, both of Judaism and the Roman government.

After receiving a heavenly message and reassurance that he was the right man for Mary, we can only imagine the side eye looks he and Mary got once she began to show. There is nothing in the Bible that tells us they were shunned or mocked, but with the size of celebrations surrounding weddings, we could guess there would be some gossipy, vindictive people counting how many months until Jesus’ birth. Again, Joseph is the glue that held it together, getting Mary all the way to Bethlehem during her pregnancy, holding on to this promise of a Savior.

Much like Joseph, we can be the steady presence in our families, holding them together and keeping peace among relatives. With Joseph’s unwavering support, he and Mary built a life together. If we’re not the “gluey” one in our family, we can do our best to support those that are. Helping manage family feuds and hurt feelings isn’t an easy job. Those people probably take a lot of hurt on themselves before easing the path toward reconciliation. Joseph probably blocked Mary from a lot of hurtful comments.

If you ever notice paintings of the Nativity, especially those from the very early church, Joseph is rarely included. If he is in the painting, he’s crouched in a dark corner or standing outside of the stable. He might not be the main man in the story, but he certainly served an important part: providing shelter, care, safety, and even love for the Savior of our salvation.

Beyond the early years of Jesus’ life, we don’t know much more about Joseph. But what we do know gives us a good example of how we can trust in God’s will and timing in our lives to strengthen our families and make way for whatever God has for us.

Being the mother of God incarnate must have been a monumental task. I often wonder whether Mary ever experienced self-doubt at being the mother of Jesus Christ himself. It’s wonderful to me that her response at being told she would carry and raise the son of God was, “I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be fulfilled,” instead of, “Are you kidding? That job is too big! Haven’t you seen my flaws?”

I have been overwhelmed and doubted myself at much smaller tasks than Mary’s. “Those aren’t my gifts,” I whine like Moses. “I need more help,” I deflect like Barak. Those are even some of the better days. There are other times I struggle to find the good at all. I look at the tasks God has set before me and I wonder if there was some sort of mix up. Why would he give me a certain challenge or task when he made me the way that he did?

There are personality tests to match people with the best line of work. It makes a lot of sense to put people in positions that align with their skill and values. The idea is that people will be happier doing things that are more congruent with who they are as a person. Yet God doesn’t always choose to work that way. He is not in the business of making people as happy as they can be in this life; he is in the business of saving as many souls as possible from the fires of hell so they can be secure with him in paradise forever.

When God sets a task before you and you can’t see how it aligns with what you believe you’re capable of handling, consider the fact that our Creator also supplies what is needed. He often does not call us to face the greatest obstacles with strengths we already possess, but rather with strengths he intends to give and grow in us on the journey. We are vessels, and if we can get out of the way, God can use us for important kingdom work, regardless of whether or not we understand the method or reason.

Mary didn’t cross reference the role of “bearing the Son of God” with her enneagram or Myers Briggs first, not even her Clifton strengths. She said, “I am the Lord’s servant.” She did not need to first identify the strength and ability within herself; she trusted God to show up with the strength needed.

Trust the Creator as Mary did—not first taking an inventory of your own strengths or abilities, but trusting him who made you to bring you through what he sets before you, regardless of your own perception of your ability to do so.

Luke begins this letter to Theophilus with an explanation of why he’s writing. He wants to share this “orderly account,” inspired by the Holy Spirit, to ensure the details of the incredible and miraculous events that have occurred are recorded. There were so many elements at play in the life of Jesus and throughout the Bible. Luke wants to ensure Theophilus, and all of us, keep the story straight and appreciate all that went into play to secure the salvation of our souls.

Have you ever indulged in a movie about an elaborate heist? The Sting, National Treasure, any of the Oceans 11 movies, and so many more create such a fun and complex series of events and personalities in order to carry out a seemingly impossible plan. For weeks (or longer!) you see different people obtaining the right job, item, uniform, or relationship so they can play their specific part. The day finally comes, and countless details are now set in place to accomplish the impossible.

Rescuing our wretched souls for eternal salvation should have been an impossible plan. Yet, in all his wisdom, God put everything in place. Scripture provides an orderly account of how God safeguarded the line of David, inspired and fulfilled prophecies hundreds of years apart, and called countless souls to play their specific roles in his design for divine deliverance.

While it is indeed “finished” and our salvation is won, God is still actively at work in our lives, curating our lived experiences to accomplish important work for his kingdom. The difficulties we face, the relationships we are a part of, and the lessons we learn all work together within his greater plan to grow our faith and strengthen our relationship with him.

Not only do our experiences shape and inform our individual lives and faiths, but they are woven together with the lives of countless other people both in our lifetime and throughout history to create a breathtakingly intricate tapestry. The artistry in God’s design is beyond our imagination.

As we examine our own lives and decipher the orderly account of God’s artistry within them, we can appreciate Luke wanting to share with Theophilus the miraculous details that came together in the life of Jesus. Our own testimony, in conjunction with the inspired Word of God, is a powerful tool in sharing the joy and confidence of salvation with the lost or wavering.

The orderly account within the book of Luke and all of Scripture helps us to appreciate how perfectly God’s plan of salvation comes together so that you and I can be with him forever in paradise—the impossible made possible.