Christmas brings us back to the name given before Bethlehem’s manger ever saw a cry—Jesus. Matthew 1:21 anchors our focus: “you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” In Scripture, names aren’t labels; they carry identity and purpose. Just as Samuel meant “God has heard,” and Elijah meant “Yahweh is my God,” the name Jesus—Hebrew Joshua—means “Savior,” and announces his mission from the start. That shared name invites us to see Jesus as the “better Joshua”: Joshua led Israel into a land and a season of rest; Jesus leads his people into eternal rest. Joshua fought physical enemies; Jesus conquered sin and death at the cross and empty tomb.

Hebrews tells us Joshua’s rest was incomplete, pointing beyond itself. Christ offers the full Sabbath-rest of God—rest not only from wandering but from the tyranny of guilt, shame, and fear. Through his blood we have redemption and forgiveness (Ephesians 1:7). And he doesn’t just save us from something; he saves us for something: a transformed, abundant life in him (John 10:9–10), with an inheritance that can never perish, spoil, or fade (1 Peter 1:3–4). Joshua’s victories held for a generation; Jesus’ victory is for all who believe, and it outlasts death itself (1 Corinthians 15:54–57).

So how do we respond to the better Joshua? First, with surrender. Joshua called Israel to choose whom they would serve; Jesus calls us to deny ourselves and follow him. Surrender is not perfection, but a posture that lets him lead. Second, with confidence. If God could topple walls under Joshua’s leadership, how much more can we trust the One who conquered the grave to shepherd us through storms and sin’s struggle? Finally, with hope. He will not abandon the work he began in us, and even in the hard places he forms our dependence and deepens our joy. This Christmas we call the baby by the name that tells the whole story: Jesus—Savior—the better Joshua who brings us into the true promise: forgiveness, transformation, and an unfading inheritance.

We are in Advent, asking, “What shall we name the baby?” and Scripture answers: Jesus, the Son of David, the true King. From 2 Samuel 7, God promised David a dynasty that would endure forever—not a single project or one generation, but a kingdom that would outlast time. That promise reaches back even further to Judah in Genesis 49: “The scepter shall not depart from Judah… until Shiloh comes,” a prophetic thread pointing to Christ. David wanted to build a temple, but God said no. Instead of sulking, David sat before the Lord in awe and worship, recognizing God’s “forever” plan, and he spent his remaining years gathering materials so his son could build. That posture—receiving God’s no with worship and contributing anyway—teaches us how to live when our deepest desires are redirected.

We also see a foreshadowing: David the warrior and Solomon the peacemaker. Solomon’s peace points forward to the Prince of Peace. When Bartimaeus cried, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me,” he wasn’t just using a title—he was confessing Jesus as the promised King. Matthew underlines this with history itself: three groups of fourteen generations from Abraham to David, David to the exile, and exile to Christ. Even the number 14 (the numerical value of David’s name) signals that God’s covenant threads faithfully through real families, real time, real records.

Psalm 89 presses this further: God swore by His holiness not to lie to David. The throne would stand as sure as sun and moon. So what do we do with a God who keeps promises across centuries? We yield to His direction, even when it differs from our plans. We become what 1 Peter 2 calls “living stones,” a spiritual house where God dwells. If He says no, we worship. If He redirects, we gather materials for the next person. If He delays, we trust His forever. And we welcome Christ the King—David’s Son and David’s Lord—into the very structure of our lives.

This morning, the focus is on the heart of missions—what it truly means to participate in God’s work in the world. It’s a privilege that God invites imperfect people to be part of His perfect plan, not as spectators, but as active participants. Over the past five years, our journey in Mexico has involved evangelism, supporting churches, running a secondhand store to help the poor and fund ministry, and organizing conferences and mission trips. These activities are not just about doing good; they are about keeping the essentials of missions at the center.

At the core of all missions is the gospel—the essential message of God’s love and redemption through Jesus Christ. The gospel is not just a set of teachings or a lifestyle; it is the message that reconciles God and humanity. Without the gospel, all our efforts are empty, no matter how noble they seem. The gospel is where God’s justice and mercy meet, where the sacrifice of Jesus and the ministry of the Holy Spirit make salvation possible for those who repent and believe.

It’s easy to be distracted by good works, relationships, or even church programs, but if the gospel is not central, we are missing the point. Our authority to share this message comes from Jesus Himself, who commands us to go and make disciples. The work is not ours; it is God’s, and He promises that even the gates of hell cannot prevail against it.

Being witnesses is not just about telling a story; it’s about living a life surrendered to the cause of Christ, empowered by the Holy Spirit. True witness may even mean giving our lives, not just our words, for the sake of the gospel. Preaching is God’s chosen method to present His case to the world—not as a debate, but as a proclamation that stirs the heart and calls for a response. Teaching, especially sound doctrine, is essential so that people believe in the true Christ and are not led astray by false ideas.

Finally, missions require action—going beyond our comfort zones. Whether we go ourselves or send others, we must not try to do missions from the safety of home alone. The power of God is in His people, out in the world, sharing the gospel, teaching truth, and living as witnesses. This is the most exciting and significant work we can be part of. The call is to respond now, not later, and to let God use us in His mission.

As we gather today, we come to the end of our journey through the Sermon on the Mount, where Jesus lays out the blueprint for life in the kingdom of heaven. He begins with blessings for those the world often overlooks and then turns our expectations upside down, calling us to a radically different way of living—loving our enemies, giving in secret, praying with sincerity, and forgiving one another. But as Jesus closes, He doesn’t just leave us with lofty ideals; He brings us to a crossroads and demands a response. There is no middle ground. We must decide: will we obey His words or not?

Jesus presents four vivid contrasts to drive this home. First, there are two gates: one wide and easy, leading to destruction, and one narrow and difficult, leading to life. The narrow gate is Jesus Himself, and entering it means surrendering our comfort and preferences to follow Him, even when it’s hard. Many admire the narrow path but hesitate to let go of the wide road’s comforts. Yet, only the narrow path leads to true life.

Second, Jesus warns us about false prophets—those who look and sound spiritual but whose hearts are far from God. He uses the image of two trees: one bearing good fruit, the other bad. The fruit of our lives reveals the root of our hearts. Are we growing in love, joy, peace, patience, and the other fruits of the Spirit? This is not about perfection but about evidence of transformation and surrender to the Holy Spirit.

Third, Jesus addresses the difference between true and false disciples. Not everyone who calls Him “Lord” will enter the kingdom, but only those who do the will of the Father. It’s not enough to have the right words or even impressive spiritual acts; what matters is a genuine relationship with Jesus, marked by obedience and surrender. We must ask ourselves: are we after our own recognition, or are we truly seeking to lift up Jesus?

Finally, Jesus tells the story of two builders: one who builds on the rock by hearing and acting on His words, and one who builds on sand by hearing but not obeying. Storms will come to both, but only the house on the rock will stand. The foundation of our lives is revealed not in what we know, but in what we do with what we know.

Today, the choice is before us. Will we go all in, surrendering to Jesus and building our lives on His words? Or will we remain on the outside, admiring but never entering? There is no middle ground. The invitation is open—enter through the narrow gate, act on His words, and find life.

This morning, we gathered to reflect on the heart of Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 7:12, often called the Golden Rule: “In everything, therefore, treat people the same way you want them to treat you, for this is the Law and the Prophets.” This single sentence distills centuries of God’s revelation, from the law of Moses to the voices of the prophets, into a call for love in action. God’s desire has always been for a people who love Him and love one another, and Jesus brings this to its pinnacle in the Sermon on the Mount.

Looking at the structure of Jesus’ sermon, we see how He begins by turning our expectations upside down with the Beatitudes, challenging our natural ways of thinking. Throughout the sermon, He addresses the heart behind our actions—whether in giving, prayer, fasting, or relationships—calling us to a deeper surrender to God rather than outward performance. As He draws to a close in chapter 7, Jesus summarizes the entire law and prophetic tradition in the command to treat others as we wish to be treated. This is not a new teaching, but the fulfillment and culmination of God’s heart for relationship, as seen in Deuteronomy and Leviticus: love God, and love your neighbor as yourself.

The law, like a mirror, reflects God’s character—His justice, holiness, and love. When we treat others with respect, dignity, and fairness, we reflect God’s love to the world. Jesus not only taught this principle but embodied it, fulfilling the law through His life and ultimately through His sacrificial death on the cross. He lifted up the poor and the outcast, showing us that every person is worthy of love and acceptance.

Yet, this command is not something we can live out by sheer willpower. Our hearts must be transformed by the Holy Spirit. Only through the Spirit’s work can we consistently love others, even those who have hurt us or seem undeserving. Every person we encounter bears the image of God and is loved by Him. When we treat others with the same grace and dignity we desire, we participate in building God’s kingdom on earth. This is not a passive avoidance of harm, but an active pursuit of encouragement and upliftment for those around us.

The journey through the Sermon on the Mount brings us to a crucial teaching in Matthew 7:1-11, where Jesus addresses the theme of judgment and discernment. The call is not to abandon all evaluation or to live passively in the world, but to approach others with humility, self-awareness, and a deep sense of our own need for grace. Jesus warns against the hypocrisy of judging others while ignoring our own faults, using the vivid image of a log in our own eye compared to a speck in someone else’s. This is a call to honest self-examination and to deal with our own shortcomings before attempting to help others.

Yet, Jesus does not command us to be blind or naïve. He instructs us to discern—to recognize what is holy and to be wise about with whom we share the treasures of the faith. This discernment is not about condemnation, but about loving others well, protecting what is sacred, and refusing to participate in what is wrong. The balance is found in holding truth and love together: we are to test the spirits, to renew our minds, and to reject what is evil, but always with a spirit of compassion rather than superiority.

Jesus’ own example with Pilate and Herod shows us how to respond differently based on the openness of a person’s heart. With those who are genuine, even if they do not yet believe, we engage honestly. With those who are hardened and mocking, we do not cast what is holy before them. This is wisdom in action, guided by the Spirit.

Finally, Jesus turns our attention to the heart of the Father. We are invited to ask, seek, and knock, trusting that God is a loving Father who delights to give good gifts to His children. The challenge is to see God not only as a distant authority but as our “Daddy”—one who cares deeply, who never makes mistakes, and who desires a close, trusting relationship with us. Even when we do not understand His ways, we are called to trust in His perfect wisdom and love, knowing that He is always working for our good.

Today’s focus is on the often-overlooked spiritual discipline of fasting, as taught by Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount. Fasting, along with prayer and giving, forms the heart of a vibrant Christian life. While prayer and giving are commonly practiced and discussed, fasting has largely fallen by the wayside, both in our culture and in the church. Yet, Jesus places it on equal footing with the other two, assuming that his followers would fast—not as a legalistic requirement, but as a natural outflow of a life seeking God.

Fasting, at its core, is abstaining from food for a period of time, though there are variations such as partial fasts or even fasting from other things that distract us from God. The biblical examples range from Esther’s three-day absolute fast to Moses’ and Elijah’s supernatural forty-day fasts. Most often, fasting is a private matter between the believer and God, though there are times for corporate fasting in response to crisis or as a call to repentance.

The purpose of fasting is not to manipulate God or to earn answers to prayer, but to humble ourselves, seek God’s face, and surrender to His purposes. Fasting is an act of worship, a way to draw near to God, and to allow Him to purify us from sin and self-reliance. It is a means of breaking spiritual strongholds, seeking direction, and deepening our understanding of God’s Word. Fasting exposes the “real you,” bringing to the surface both physical and spiritual toxins that need to be dealt with. It is often uncomfortable, even painful, but it is in that weakness that God’s strength is made perfect.

There are also practical benefits to fasting: increased clarity, contentment, and confidence as we learn to rely on God rather than our appetites or routines. Fasting is not just about food; it can mean giving up anything that has a hold on us—technology, comfort, privacy—for the sake of drawing closer to God and serving others. The call is to approach fasting thoughtfully, with humility and openness to God’s leading, and to make it a regular part of our walk with Him, just as we do with prayer and giving.

Today’s focus is on the heart of prayer as Jesus teaches in the Sermon on the Mount. Prayer is not meant to be a performance for others, but an authentic, private conversation with our Heavenly Father. Jesus warns against praying for the admiration of people or using empty, repetitive words to sound spiritual. Instead, the invitation is to come before God with sincerity, seeking connection rather than approval. The call is to examine our motives: are we praying to impress, or to truly commune with God?

Jesus provides a model for prayer in what we call the Lord’s Prayer. The prayer begins with relationship—addressing God as Father, which speaks to intimacy and belonging. It moves to worship, recognizing God’s holiness and uniqueness, and then to submission, asking for God’s kingdom and will to be realized on earth. This first half centers on God’s purposes and glory.

The second half of the prayer shifts to our daily needs, dependence, and the reality of our brokenness. Jesus teaches us to ask for daily provision, echoing the Israelites’ dependence on God for manna in the wilderness. He emphasizes forgiveness, both receiving it from God and extending it to others, highlighting that forgiveness is not optional but essential for those who follow Christ. Repentance is not just about turning from sin, but about turning toward God, filling our lives with His presence and truth.

Finally, Jesus instructs us to seek deliverance from temptation and evil, not because God tempts us, but because we need His strength to resist the pull of our own wisdom and the lies of the enemy. The Lord’s Prayer is not just a formula, but a pattern for authentic, surrendered living. Jesus himself models this in Gethsemane, praying with honesty, intimacy, and submission: “Not my will, but yours be done.” True prayer may not always change our circumstances, but it will always change our hearts, aligning us with God’s will and making us His representatives in the world.

Today’s reflection centers on the heart behind our giving and the difference between outward acts of charity and genuine generosity. We began by looking at two modern examples: Chuck Finny, who quietly gave away his fortune to help others, and Mark Zuckerberg, who pledged to donate most of his wealth but did so in a way that kept control and public attention. These stories set the stage for Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 6:1-4, where He warns against practicing righteousness for the sake of being seen by others. The call is not just to give, but to give with a heart that seeks God’s approval, not human validation.

Jesus’ words in Matthew 6 are not a legalistic command to always give in secret, but an invitation to discernment and authenticity. He contrasts the outward show of the Pharisees—who did good deeds for public praise—with the quiet, sincere acts that God alone sees. This theme runs through the chapter, whether it’s giving, praying, or fasting: the Father who sees in secret will reward what is done with a pure heart.

The Old Testament commands generosity, but Jesus deepens the call by focusing on the motives behind our actions. He exposes the emptiness of works done for recognition, likening them to “hevel”—a Hebrew word meaning vapor or smoke, something that appears substantial but vanishes when grasped. True value in God’s eyes is not measured by the amount given, but by the sincerity and sacrifice behind it, as seen in the story of the widow’s two coins.

We are reminded that God does not require us to give everything we have, but He does desire that what we give—whether time, money, or attention—comes from a genuine place. Even the smallest act, when done with a sincere heart, can have eternal significance. The challenge is to resist the world’s pull for validation and instead serve for the sake of God’s kingdom, knowing that our reward comes from Him alone.

“Therefore you shall be perfect, just as your Father in heaven is perfect.”

- Matthew 5:48