Followers

Matthew 2:1-12

The scene is instantly familiar. Endless waves of sand dunes tracking off into the distance, in the foreground a few palm trees and an oasis, and there in the middle distance are the distinct silhouettes: stately camels with their three kingly burdens accompanied by mounds of gear and supporting servants: a regular desert caravan. But, the dominant feature in the picture is the star, majestically beaming out light in brilliant hues of blue and radiant white—and just below that star, nestled in the midst of the distant dunes it’s just possible to make out the contours of a little walled village. The wise men at last are about to discover the end of their long journey—Bethlehem is in sight. You can see it, can’t you?

But, as it happens so often, the images on our Christmas cards and in our imaginations don’t exactly line up with the story in the text.

It is an odd, mysterious story that Matthew includes for us in his Gospel. What we know is pretty limited. Who were these magi, where’d they come from, and what were they doing in Jerusalem? Good questions. We don’t know. Most likely this expedition of magi was a sort of first-century mash-up of near-eastern astrologers, quasi-alchemists, conspiracy theorists, comic-con-lovers-of-legend who had become convinced by something observed in the eastern sky that a great king had been born among the Jews.

There’s nothing to suggest that they were an official royal delegation, or highly respected intellectuals, or even proselytes to Judaism who knew anything about a messiah. They were a group of wealthy, star-gazing, eccentrics who sought special revelations or deeper truths missed by most people. The crazy thing is that they decided that what they’d seen in the night sky was reason enough for them to hit the road for Jerusalem. The even crazier thing, though, is that their long wild goose chase of a journey actually paid off. Helped along by the Jewish nation’s official experts, they found the baby king, worshipped him, delivered their gifts, and went home. That’s the story.

So, what’s the point? There are a number of possibilities. In the narrative, the magi supply the impetus for Herod to get involved looking for Jesus, which in turn flushes the holy family out of Bethlehem and into Egypt which checks another OT prophecy. The account also provides more divine support for the peculiar wonder of this child. And, there’s the fact that these early worshippers of Jesus are non-Jewish Gentiles who also find a welcome spot at the side of Jesus—rather good news for the likes of Gentiles like us. These truths are all rooted in the story.

But, the most remarkable thing may be the most obvious thing.

The magi were men willing to be led. They saw the regal star, and that was enough. They were all in—they had to go see for themselves. The star delivered the message and they paid attention—even if they had no idea what they were actually getting themselves into.

Let’s be clear on this: it was not the magi’s wisdom that led them to Bethlehem. It was the star that did that. The only wise thing the magi did was being willing to trust what they saw.

The magi were living a life of receptivity. They were open and responsive to what they were taught by the star—open enough to trek all the way to Jerusalem to see for themselves what was going on. God spoke—this time in a star—and they listened and responded.

Herod, though, is a different story. He’s not numbered with the magi. Herod is a real king; and, he is in control. Herod doesn’t follow stars. He doesn’t follow the Sanhedrin. He doesn’t even follow old prophetic texts. He follows only his own instincts, experience, and fears. It’s worth noting that the magi don’t arrive in Jerusalem looking for the long-awaited Messiah. They’re just looking for a new Jewish king. It’s Herod who brings up the idea of the Christ. With royal short-sightedness, he can see the Christ only as a threat, and so he pursues a plan to eradicate the threat. Herod drives the plan. He calls the shots. He sets the agenda. He’s in control. Herod is the antithesis of the magi.

Yes, it’s true, the magi certainly took action. When the star appeared, they did something. They followed it. But they followed. They live the receptive life—which does not mean passive inaction, but confident and trusting activity ordered and directed by another. That’s the key to a passive life. You receive what God gives. This is what Herod does not do—indeed, what he refuses even to consider. He will not follow. He will not yield. No, he does all he can to get the upper hand and take control. He tries to manipulate the situation and the magi. The magi are not in control. They are led by another. And when they finally do see Jesus, again, they receive what they’re given, and they worship. The magi worship Jesus. Herod hunts Jesus.

Herod is not, though, the only one trying to control the magi. Down through the years there has been a marked effort on the part of pious people to upgrade and improve the magi. This effort was especially pronounced a century and a half ago when Lew Wallace wrote his run-away best-seller, Ben Hur. Maybe you’ve heard of it. Long before Charlton Heston took the reins of the chariot, the story was a wildly successful novel published in 1880. Based on a trustworthy recommendation, my dad read the book to me years ago. As promised, it was engaging and entertaining enough once it got going. But, the book’s first twenty-five pages or so are beyond dreadful.

The story begins with the magi—or as Lew Wallace tells it, the wise men. Virtually all of the ideas we assume to be true about the magi are detailed in Ben Hur’s telling of the story. In the novel, the three wise men, each with their traditional names, ages, and origins are brilliant, spiritual men who are perfectly content to do nothing but engage in the worst kind of enlightened, romantic, spiritual talk for pages and pages and pages. Oh, and, of course, they ride camels. Wallace did not want the magi to be odd ducks on a wild goose chase. He wanted them to be sophisticated, noble, humanitarians and scholars. So, he took control and upgraded Matthew’s story to be about three wise men worthy of respect.

Wallace did not improve the story. He missed the whole point.

There is something powerful and beautiful about the oddness of the story as Matthew gives it to us. It is not the enlightened, the noble, the wise, and the highbrow that Jesus attracts; no, Jesus draws to himself the marginalized of society, the inept, the failed, the outcast, and the odd. It’s not the one who is in control and leads that he wants, but the one ready to respond and follow. It’s not those who master the situation that matter, but those who are receptive to what the Master gives.

The wise thing is to leave the magi alone, and let the story that Matthew tells—the story that God tells—be enough. But, that’s hard to do. We all struggle with taking what we are given as it is. What has become a favorite restaurant for my dad and me is Three Kings in the Delmar Loop. But I have to admit, the first time I ate there and learned that the three kings honored in the name were Henry the 8th, Elvis, and King Kong I was almost put off—as if the Bible’s Three Kings were being mocked. But, of course, the truth is that any offense I may have felt was generated not by the Bible, but by the likes of Lew Wallace. We are all prone to upgrade and improve what God actually does. We’re all inclined to be dissatisfied with the story that is there. We all seek to be in control of things so that they fit better with what we want them to be. We’d like the magi, along with the rest of God’s story, to be more sophisticated, more mainstream, more intellectual, more spiritual, more romantic, more marketable. We’d all like to take control and make sure that things are the way that we think they should be. We play Herod’s game.

That’s the problem with that sign board slogan that appears every December: wise men still seek him. Well, no, they don’t. They never did. They never do. They never will. No one seeks the Christ that God gives—we would all rather take control and pursue our own plans, nurture our own dreams, and chase our own fancies. We’re not really interested in what God gives. But, God leads us, calls us, and claims us anyway. God shows us what we’re not looking for and brings us into his truth. From the margins, God leads us into his house of faith, and we see Jesus. Who knows what the magi were looking for when they headed west to Jerusalem—but whatever it was, none of it mattered when they finally stepped into the house in Bethlehem and saw Jesus. Jesus is what God had been leading the magi to see all along. He just used the star to get their attention. And, the magi were humble enough to let the star lead.

When God puts his star in the sky, you receive the message and follow. When God speaks his truth in your life, you receive the path and follow. When God puts his faith in your heart, you receive the gift and follow. You take what he gives as he gives it and on his terms. It doesn’t need to be dressed up, remodeled, or updated. It just needs to be believed and followed. The magi show us that truth.

You do not set the agenda.

Life is not yours to control.

God’s story is not yours to manage.

God’s reality is not yours to shape.

He leads. You follow. The magi followed where the star led, wherever it led—and they got Jesus. You follow where God leads, wherever he leads and you get Jesus…and all that he gives.

Amen.