The Old Testament prepares us for Christmas morning. All of it. And the New Testament opens with a genealogy (Matt. 1:1–17) that rings with significance for our lives.
Jesus’s family tree isn’t simply a list of names to skim over to get to the “substance” of the gospel, nor is the story of Israel that comes before it. Rather, the genealogy of Jesus offers us a bird’s-eye view of God’s active and historic promise—one that grounds us in our past, solidifies us in the present, and catapults us into the future.
Paving the Way for a King
Matthew lists these names deliberately, with the promise of the Messiah in mind. In fact, his genealogy is less a static list and more the makings of a great drama. Names like Abraham remind us that the line of Israel was saved with the extraordinary birth of Isaac. From famous David to obscure Eliakim, the genealogy unfolds and uncovers the drama of Israel’s redemption.
And then there’s its unusual inclusion of women. The women mentioned are, in varying degrees, marked by promiscuity and destitution. Tamar, disguised as a prostitute, slept with her father-in-law Judah. Rahab, possibly a prostitute, hid Israelite spies in Jericho because she trusted God’s power to save. Ruth, a Moabite, was forbidden from entering into the family of Israel until Boaz married her. Bathsheba, simply listed as “Uriah’s wife,” committed adultery with the king of the land. And Mary, the mother of Jesus, was scorned for being pregnant and unmarried.
These men and women represent the people Jesus came from, and the people Jesus came for. Jesus didn’t hail from upstanding royalty. The Son of God chose to enter this particular family line, knowing full well its waywardness and sin. Bryan Stevenson, an author and lawyer who works with the incarcerated, often says: “You are more than the worst thing you’ve ever done.” The Savior’s birth at the end of this family tree proclaims the sentiment in its truest form: You are more than the worst thing you have ever done. Your sin is great, but God’s love for you is greater still.
Matthew’s genealogy gives us name after name of those intricately, purposefully, and imperatively used over the course of history to further the line that paved the way for Jesus. It’s a list of real people—all sinful, some faithful—who endured trials and valleys and shaped the course of Israel’s history, bringing us to the doorstep of the virgin birth.
The context of the promise moves us from slogging through the Old Testament and passively reading Matthew’s list to sitting on the edge of our seats. Because of Jesus, we can’t look at the Scriptures preceding him the same way again. As theologian Todd Billings observes:
In light of the event of Jesus Christ, the Old Testament takes on new, unforeseen significance. . . . Jesus was not just a great teacher, nor was he just God with limbs and a mouth. In Jesus, the whole history of Israel—and through Israel, humanity—was recapitulated, or lived again.
But this time, it was done perfectly.
Awaiting the King’s Return
We must understand the scope of this promise in our current struggles as well. Just as the Israelites waited for their king in a dark and sinful world, so we wait. To be sure, this waiting comes with pain and uncertainty. In The Two Towers, Sam and Frodo are in the midst of their unlikely mission to save Middle-earth. In a time of great despair, Frodo says he can no longer continue. Sam responds:
I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. Because they were holding on to something. . . . That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.
Those Sam speaks of are like the heroes and heroines of the Old Testament, the great cloud of witnesses that went before us. And because of Christ, we join them as witnesses. His birth makes full the course of Israel’s history and ours. It confirms the stories of every name that helped bring forth the One with the greatest names: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace (Isa. 9:6).
This Advent, we can read Matthew’s genealogy in unshakeable anticipation because we know who lives at the end of it. We know who lived on that first Christmas morning, and who lived on that first Easter Sunday. And we know a new day is coming, when the sun will shine all the clearer (Rev. 21:23).
