I stare at the screen and let the words sink in. Probable carcinoma. Motionless, I try to grasp the meaning of those two words. ‘Probable’. Most likely. Probably. Chances are, I have cancer. It’s not confirmed, but the balance is tilted in favor of the C-word. ‘Cancer’. My first thought is Beth. My dear friend Beth. We went to the Christian bookstore in Ashland and bought matching Bibles. Months later, she was diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer. When my firstborn came out, so did all of Beth’s hair. She sat in my brand-new glider rocker, head wrapped in a scarf, rocking so furiously I feared my weeks-old daughter would get motion sickness. In many ways, the treatment was worse than the cancer. She died within a year of the initial diagnosis and has been with Jesus for 28 years. But I have never foreseen cancer to be part of my story. It’s nothing I have considered. Cancer is not in my family. The cancer gene missed us. I try my best to check off the boxes of healthy living to avoid cancer. We eat our fruits and veggies, organically when possible. We buy our meat from local farmers instead of the grocery store, and make all of our meals from scratch with real ingredients. We drink our delicious well water, void of chemicals. I refuse to heat anything in the microwave with plastic. We walk four miles a day and sleep eight hours a night. Despite what we do, cancer can rear its ugly head. My phone rings out my beautiful Mozart Sonata ringtone. It’s my doctor. I’m thankful I read MyChart before she called. I am prepared and calm. She confirms the words in the report are alarming, yet sends messages of peace. ‘Probable’ does not mean cancer; it means we need further testing. ‘Probable’ means biopsy. Within hours, they call and schedule a biopsy for the next day, Friday. It’s alarming that they need to see me the next day. When my knee hurt, it was six weeks before the doctor could schedule me, but with cancer, there is an urgency. I sit with my coffee and rock in the same chair Beth sat in decades ago. Is this it? Will cancer be my demise? I am surprisingly calm. Lord Jesus, your will be done. I nod my head. Yes, that is the right prayer. At age 56, I have lived a full life. I had an idyllic childhood, with a mom and dad who stayed married, even through the hardest of hards. I graduated from college and married my best friend. The Lord blessed me with four of the most amazing people on the planet for children. He allowed me the privilege of homeschooling them, even though it meant driving rusty old minivans. He protected us in so many ways. Yes, Lord, your will be done. Twenty years ago, I learned my lesson. I selfishly prayed a Hezekiah prayer. Sick for over four years, I prayed the Lord would spare my life until my youngest graduated from high school. (2 Kings 20:1-11) Just let me live for my kiddos. Don’t let them grow up without a mom. They need me. And just as God granted Hezekiah’s request, extending his life for fifteen years, so God allowed me to live a ‘normal’ life through surgeries and medication. After so many years of selfish pleas to the Lord for Him to do what I want, my heart is now somehow completely surrendered to what He wants. What if a cancer diagnosis leads my kiddos into a deeper relationship with Him? What if people praying for me trust Jesus even more? What if cancer and treatment mold me and shape me to look like Jesus? Why would I not want that? And when I die, I’ll be with the Lord. I do want that, more than anything. But what about Hubby? I am prepared to meet the Lord today, but that means loneliness and pain for my best friend. I have often said the best way for us to die would be together, that way neither of us needs to grieve alone, which is probably worse than the pain of dying. Heavenly Father, your will be done. A Friday biopsy means my flesh is sitting in a lab somewhere, preserved for a tech to look at after the weekend break. Hubby and I sit on the couch, holding hands in silence, Nuka at our feet. I don’t cry. I remain surprisingly optimistic, even bordering on happy. My trust in God’s future plans for me prevails over any fear. He is in control, and He loves me. Why should I be afraid? I keep my phone, with the ringer turned on, next to the piano. I wait. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday, the call comes. “As hoped for, the biopsy was benign.” “Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and will not be afraid; for the Lord God is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation.” (Isaiah 12:2) First published in Pursuing Perfection on Substack by © Tessa Lind, tessalind.substack.com Press Ctrl + P (Windows) or Cmd + P (Mac) to print this article or save it as a PDF.

There's a bad phrase still going around, and I'm sure some of you have heard it, or something like it: If someone were a "real Christian," they wouldn't feel anxiety or nervousness when talking to others about God. That is a sure-fire way to crush someone's faith, fast. I'm still shocked when I hear it come out of Christians' mouths. It’s Become a Weapon I have watched this happen, and I have been on the receiving end of it. It was always weaponized. Not once was it meant as Godly encouragement, and it never will be. So the next time you hear this, or see it happen to someone else, I want you to have something to hold onto. Paul shared something in 1 Corinthians I think you are going to find both interesting and comforting. We all know who Paul is, hands down one of the greatest missionaries in the Bible. He spread the Gospel like gasoline poured on a bonfire. And here is what he said about himself: "I was with you in weakness, in fear, and in much trembling. My speech and my preaching were not in persuasive words of human wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power,” 1 Corinthians 2:3–4 There it is, in black and white. Paul struggled. If he had only used the words "weakness" and "trembling," we might chalk it up to an illness or an injury. But he did not. He also used the word "fear." Something caused Paul anxiety during that time. As a person who lives with anxiety, I felt those words when I read them. It was a genuine weight off my shoulders to learn that even Paul had these moments. This Is Significant It is significant that Paul admitted this at all, because he was a male leader in the early church. The people who spout that "real Christian" line do not want you to know this about him. They would rather use their personal opinions about what they think is "best for you" to shame you into silence. No self-respecting Christian should be saying this to you or to anyone else. And here's the thing that undoes their whole argument: by their own standard, Paul would not count as a "real Christian" either. According to their mindset, one of the greatest missionaries who ever lived fails their own test. They will argue with you about it, but it falls apart when you think it through. You cannot hold one person up as a hero while ignoring part of what he said, then turn around and condemn someone else for that very same thing. That goes past cherry-picking straight into cherry-pureeing. Your Journey Is Yours Accepting Jesus does not instantly turn you into the perfect evangelist, and it does not erase nerves or fear. We all have unique personalities and quirks. Every one of us will wrestle with fear and anxiety, some more than others. That does not make you any less of a "real Christian." Anyone who tells you otherwise, walk away. Paul shared this experience for a reason. He knew that some of us, reading his words all these centuries later, would also feel weakness, fear, and trembling. It does not make you any less of a Christian than he was. It makes you human. So do what Paul did: trust God. Your journey and your calling are between you and Him, not you, and some other person, and their timing. He is the only one who should be guiding your steps. © Jane Isley Adapted from a piece I originally wrote for Never Stop Writing

If you have started following Jesus, or you are simply curious about what the Bible teaches, this is a question that gets asked a lot. Is it a sin to defend yourself? Maybe someone told you Christians are supposed to be passive no matter what, that if you were attacked you would have to just let it happen. Maybe you have read "thou shalt not kill" and wondered whether protecting your own family would put you on the wrong side of God. Here is the short answer, and then we will walk through the why. No, defending yourself is not a sin, and it is not what that commandment forbids either. The Bible does not ask you to stand by while you or people you are harmed. That idea comes from a misunderstanding of a single word, and once you see it you will never unsee it. The word that changes everything Most of the confusion traces back to one famous line from the Ten Commandments. In older translations it reads "Thou shalt not kill." If that is all you have ever seen, it sounds absolute: no killing, no exceptions, self-defense included. But that translation is not quite right, and is the key to this whole question. The original commandment was written in Hebrew, and the word it uses is ratsach, which means to murder, to kill unlawfully, the kind of killing done with intent and malice. It is not the broader Hebrew word harag, which simply means to kill or slay in a general sense. The commandment is specifically forbidding murder, the unlawful, malicious taking of an innocent life, not every act that results in someone's death. Newer, more careful translations correctly render the verse "You shall not murder." That is not someone editing the Bible to suit themselves; it is the opposite. It is centuries of careful study correcting an old, imprecise translation to say what the text always meant. As the saying by Andrew Holt goes, all murder involves killing, but not all killing is murder. Defending your life, or someone else's, from an attacker is simply not the thing this commandment is talking about. What the rest of the Bible shows The word study settles the commandment, but it is not the only evidence. Once you know murder and self-defense are different things, you start noticing that the Bible knows people will sometimes need to protect themselves, and it makes room for it. Consider a few examples: Jesus told His disciples to buy swords. On the night before His arrest, He told them that whoever did not have a sword should sell his cloak and buy one (Luke 22:36-38). That is a strange instruction to give if self-defense were forbidden. Jesus was not arming them for aggression, but the plain fact that He told them to carry a means of defense tells you He did not consider it sinful. God gave Esther's people the legal right to defend themselves. When a decree threatened the Jewish people with slaughter, God made a way for them to defend their own lives against attack. Notably, after they defended themselves, they took no plunder. It was not about greed or revenge; it was about survival. God set up Cities of Refuge. In the law God gave Moses and Joshua, certain cities were set aside as safe places for someone who took a life unintentionally or in self-defense, so they would not be treated as a murderer (Numbers 35, Joshua 20). Think about what that means. God's own law drew a clear line between murder and a death that happened in self-defense, and He built protection for the second kind right into the system. None of this is a stretch or a loophole. It is simply what the Bible shows when you read the whole of it instead of one mistranslated line. What about Peter and the sword? There is one moment people often raise as proof that Jesus forbade self-defense. When Jesus was betrayed and arrested, Peter drew a sword and cut off the ear of the high priest's servant, and Jesus rebuked him (all four Gospels record it). Doesn't that prove we are never to fight back? Look a little closer. The man Peter struck was a servant, someone who had no choice about being there, not an attacker. Peter did not act in defense of an innocent life under threat; he lashed out impulsively, in fear and anger, at a bystander, in the middle of an event Jesus had already told him had to happen. Jesus rebuked the emotional, reckless act, not the principle of protecting the innocent. Self-defense is a measured response to real danger. What Peter did was neither. The balance the Bible does ask for So self-defense is permitted, but the Bible is not handing anyone a license for aggression or revenge, and this part matters just as much. Jesus taught us to seek peace first, to be slow to anger, to forgive, to show mercy, and to love even our enemies. He warned about the anger that festers in our own hearts. A follower of Jesus is not looking for a fight, does not repay insult with violence, and does not act out of vengeance. Self-defense, biblically, is a last resort, protecting life when there is a genuine threat, using wisdom and restraint, not an excuse to harm someone or settle a score. That is the difference in a nutshell. Murder springs from malice. Self-defense springs from the need to protect life. God has never confused the two, and neither should we. So where does that leave you? If you have been carrying worry that protecting yourself or your family would make you guilty before God, you can set that down. The commandment you were pointed to forbids murder, the unlawful, malicious taking of innocent life, and defending against an attacker is simply not that. The Bible shows God making room for self-defense, while still calling us to be people of peace, mercy, and wisdom rather than anger and revenge. You are allowed to value the life God gave you and the lives of the people you love. Protecting them, when it truly comes to that, is not a sin. It is part of the wisdom and responsibility God trusts us to carry. © Jane Isley Recommended Reads New here, or just starting to work through the big questions? These two are a good place to keep going: Why Did Jesus Die for Our Sins? A plain, no-Bible-thumping look at why the cross was necessary, why it had to be death, and what it actually accomplished for you. What Is Sin, and Where Does Pride Fit In? A clear, Scripture-based answer to a question people rarely stop to define, what sin actually is, where it started, and the pride at the root of it. Press Ctrl + P (Windows) or Cmd + P (Mac) to print this article or save it as a PDF.

For many true followers, a day will come when stepping away from the traditional church setting won’t just be an option, but a necessity. I know nobody asked for my two cents on this, but I’m in a mood today. Why of all days? Because I’ve been thinking a lot about the state of the church in America. Everywhere I look, I see these giant buildings with plush carpet, polished wooden pews, and not a penny spared on the pulpit, and it finally just rubbed that one last nerve cell I had left. Churches, everywhere, are dropping like flies under the weight of the world at a pace that makes me think I’m living having a bad dream, or in a B-rated movie sometimes. But then I realize I’m awake. I grew up always knowing there were the dos and don’ts in the Christian faith, regardless of denomination; well, that’s gone out the window quite spectacularly lately, and what hit me over the last few days is this: We are truly witnessing the collapse of “the church” in America; there’s no stopping it, the dominoes have been flicked. Maybe it’s time for a couch session? I’m serious, but not to take a nap on, or sprawl out on, and lay out your worries to a therapist because we can’t handle a bumped knee or side eye anymore. But a couch and maybe whatever random chairs you can find, all in a circle in a living room in someone's house. To find God once again with friends and family, laughing and crying, venting and praising, all mixed together and out of the scheduled order of a church. What’s the first thing that comes to mind when I suggested that? If you thought, Heck no, I love my church. Well, kudos to you. Just double-check why you love it so much. If you're in the opposite boat, maybe it’s time to try something else? You do know you don’t need a building called a church to have church, right? And it sure as heck isn’t required to be on Sunday, but that’s a whole different topic for a different day; let’s just focus on what the priority is right now. Your relationship with Christ. A time will come when you can’t get that in a church. Wait, let me rephrase that. A time will come when that won’t be allowed in churches. Every day, more churches are falling to this world's demands. Not God’s. Maybe this nation needs that. Maybe the churches that serve themselves need to be brought to their knees? Not harsh, just truth. The church in America (actually all over) is rapidly changing and declining, and by that, I mean Christianity as a whole at this point is declining. I know I‘m not the only one sensing the end of the Christian church around the corner. Well, I shouldn’t say “end” per se, maybe more like a major product overhaul and rebranding, complete with extra added additives that make people sicker. Leave the walls behind I don’t think it would be a bad thing, to be completely honest. Something needs to happen because Christianity, real Christianity, the Bible-believing kind of Christianity, is disappearing before your eyes and being replaced with pseudo-Christianity. Now, if you're where God wants you to be, stay there, and listen to what He’s telling you to do or say. We are capable of planting seeds in a Godless church. But if you're feeling something deep down in your soul, listen and pray. Don’t be afraid to step out of your comfort zone; the only thing that’s good for is a participation trophy that isn’t going to impress God on judgment day anyway. Open your Bibles, do not rely on humanity to teach you the word of God; that’s God’s job. Consider a home Bible study with friends and family. Consider there are many, many other ways to be a community of believers that break away those damn walls that are stifling the Holy Spirit from doing His thing. Here me out I don’t pray for God to speed up His timing towards Revelation; I’m not in a mindset of wanting churches to collapse in order to herald Him closer, not even close. What I want is Christianity back and not butchered, and the ones doing the butchering brought to their knees. Because I believe that exposing the false teachings out there will encourage people to get off the dang fence they are straddling and take a stand, one way or the other, and draw them back to each other in God’s company. Learning and studying His word together as I should truly be. © Jane Isley

Who Were They? Let’s start with some basic definitions: Magi: Of foreign origin (Rab-Mag); a Magian, i.e. Oriental scientist; by implication, a magician — sorcerer, wise man. (Rab-mag: Chief Magi, Chief of the Magi, or Chief Officer) This word, Magi, immediately sparks my curiosity. Why in the world would Matthew write about them in conjunction with Christ when that word generally translates to “magician,” which seems contradictory to Biblical warnings against sorcery? That question pulled me into this rabbit hole because, in my experience, the Bible never includes details without a purpose. Were They Believers? I won’t pretend to know every detail of these specific Magi’s beliefs, but Scripture gives us strong clues about their emotional state that is relevant to understanding them. “have come to worship him.” (v. 2) “They were overjoyed.” (v. 10) “They bowed down and worshiped him.” (v. 11) God warned them in a dream, and they obeyed. (v. 12) Some argue that they only recognized a significant child but not the Messiah, or they were simply curious. But in these few verses, we can see a distinct emotional response happening: worship, rejoicing, prostration, and discernment. Nothing about their story is a passive reaction to a mere child, which is why I believe these Magi were genuine believers. What Did They Know and When? The Magi would have known about the details of the prophecy through either Micah’s or Daniel’s prophecy, or both. We will never know 100% which source or sources were used, but we know they knew. Here is the timeline: Daniel’s prophecy → 500-ish years before Christ Micah’s prophecy → 700-ish years before Christ That’s an extraordinarily long time for a different culture to preserve, hold onto, and wait for another culture's prophecy to show up. This shows me: belief and faith, generational transmission of that belief, and awareness of a coming king outside of Jewish circles. We often think that knowledge of God was localized in and around a small area at the time, but here we see that this is not the case. We will never know for sure who and how far this may have spread. Persian empires were powerhouses, including the Parthian Empire, which is the era these Magi are from. Persians were also unusual in how they treated conquered races: they did not squash their culture or religious practices (think Esther and Mordecai). This makes it entirely plausible that prophecies or religious knowledge of God traveled farther than we often assume, especially since they traded with everyone from China to India. I’m claiming it was a major spread of any kind, but it may have been just enough of a sprinkling that helped things along years later. Dr. Kaveh Farrokh Where Did They Come From? We actually have a decent ballpark idea of where they came from for two reasons. (the second one is the cincher) First, we are told: “from the east,” and that starts to make sense when you know that Daniel was in Babylon when he had his vision, which was later conquered by Persia while he was still there, and he stayed. Quick General History Now, I’m not lumping these particular Magi who came to see Christ in with ALL the other Magi and their practices of the time. They stand apart simply by what they did. But we do need some general context about the group as a whole. Many (probably a majority) did mess around with what we know are occult practices, such as talking to the dead, cursing people, or predicting the future. None of that is disputed historically. But we also know they were well-known and respected for their intelligence. They were an esteemed priestly caste who studied math, philosophy, science, astronomy, teaching, and medicine. And they served as royal advisors and were heavily involved in politics. Reason Two - The Cincher We can tell they came were from the Parthian Empire because Herod freaked out. By this point in history, the Magi were an extremely powerful priestly caste. One of their literal jobs was appointing or removing kings; that’s how influential they were. So when they showed up at Herod’s door, asking, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews?” Herod panicked. He didn’t know whether they were there to threaten his already thin claim to the throne or start a war, and the fact that they were looking for Christ was a problem because of the authority they carried. Their search for and acknowledgment of a king was a direct threat to his throne. Also, they would not have shown up with just three people and a couple of pack camels. Persians, especially high-ranking ones, did not know the meaning of traveling light or in small numbers. The threat to Herod would have been palpable in the air to an already mean ruler; that’s why he reacted as violently as he did and had all those male children slaughtered. “When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi.” Matt 2:16 The Significance of Their Visit Now we come to the part that I personally feel is so significant in this whole situation. When the Magi found Christ, (child, not baby) they bowed and worshiped Him. They recognized His kingship and publicly acknowledged it among a Gentile group. God didn’t need anyone to legitimize Jesus, but He allowed it to happen. This is why Matthew includes the story: their visit wasn’t incidental. Their presence demonstrates: Gentile recognition before Jewish acceptance Fulfillment of ancient prophecies Christ’s kingship was acknowledged by the powerful of the earth God was already weaving Gentile nations into Christ’s mission Their gifts weren’t random either. The gold alone supported the family’s flight to Egypt. All told, their story reminds me that God’s work is far-reaching, intricate, and deliberately timed. Why This Matters While none of this is essential to our salvation, understanding the historical and cultural context deepens appreciation for Scripture. These seemingly small narrative threads reveal the complexity of God’s plan. The Magi weren’t some random filler detail. Their appearance signaled a turning point: Gentiles from a powerful foreign priesthood recognized Jesus’ kingship long before His own people did. Exploring these details feels like embarking on a historical adventure with God as my tutor, discovering how He has woven layers into His story that we often overlook. A Final Note Just as parables contain multiple layers of meaning, this account does too. I’ve only addressed a few of the many insights that can be drawn from the Magi’s appearance in Matthew. © Jane Isley For another great perspective, check out: The Little Scandal Hidden in the Christmas Story by James W. Miller.

Every December, two great Christmas traditions return like clockwork. The first is the nativity scene, complete with its fresh straw, smiling donkeys, three politely kneeling kings, and Mary looking suspiciously serene for someone who has just given birth without pain relief. The second tradition is the annual round of newspaper headlines, TV documentaries, and articles announcing, with tremendous seriousness, that everything you think you know about Christmas is wrong. “Jesus wasn’t born in a stable.” “The wise men weren’t kings.” “Mary didn’t ride a donkey.” I think they expect the nation to drop everything in shock at these revelations. The worst bit? Every year, people begin tying themselves in knots trying to defend or debunk these details, often with a level of scientific precision Luke was never aiming for. I find myself thinking: It really doesn’t matter. Not in the way we might fear. Because the Christmas story was never meant to be a forensic report. It’s theology told through history, not history dressed up as theology. The Gospel writers weren’t trying to satisfy twenty-first-century sceptics; they were trying to proclaim that God had stepped into the world, and that news changes everything, donkey or no donkey. So, just for a bit of seasonal fun, here are ten things we often assume are true about the nativity… but probably aren’t, and, crucially, why none of them weaken the story even slightly. 1. Mary rode a donkey to Bethlehem This is the most beloved non-detail in the entire Bible. The Gospels never mention a donkey. Not one. Mary and Joseph most likely just walked. I know, that’s not nearly as romantic, and donkeys are cute, and all that, but it is practical. Why this doesn’t matter? Luke isn’t interested in modes of transport. His story is about faithfulness, courage, and unrelenting trust in God’s unfolding plan, whether on foot or four legs. 2. Jesus was born the moment they arrived: the dramatic “no room at the inn” rush Again, this is the nativity-play version. Luke simply says, “While they were there, the time came for her to give birth.” “While they were there” could mean days, even weeks. Sadly, there was probably no frantic doorstep emergency with Mary doubled over while Joseph begged someone for a bed. Why this doesn’t matter? The point is not speed but incarnation. God arrives in the ordinary rhythms of life, not in a last-minute dramatic dash. 3. The birth happened in a wooden stable Sorry, I know it sounds rustically charming, but there’s really no stable mentioned at all. Most likely, they were staying in a family home, where the animals were brought into the lower room at night. The manger was simply a feeding trough close at hand. Why this doesn’t matter? The humility of the scene is unchanged. If anything, it makes the story even more human. God was born not in loneliness but in the midst of a crowded household. 4. The “inn” was like a first-century Travelodge What reinforces this is that the word Luke uses, kataluma, means “guest room,” not “hotel.” A family home, not a commercial business. Why this doesn’t matter? Once again, the point of the message is hospitality, not rejection. Jesus is born not because the world shut its doors, but because life was already full and overflowing. 5. The star hovered over the stable like a spotlight Matthew’s star is symbolic as well as astronomical, the kind of celestial sign ancient readers associated with kingship, destiny, and divine action. Some people get caught up trying to prove it was Halley’s Comet. But hovering over the stable? That’s a stretch. The wise men didn’t follow a celestial sat-nav; they followed prophecy and meaning. Why this doesn’t matter? Matthew isn’t giving a lesson in astrophysics. He’s announcing that heaven rejoices when God comes close. It’s symbolism, and beautiful at that. 6. The shepherds and wise men arrived together Christmas cards have lied to us for generations. Luke has shepherds. Matthew has Magi. Spoiler: they never meet, although if they did, I’d imagine it would be awkward. Oh, and the Magi probably arrived months, possibly even years, later. Yes, that does make Jesus a toddler. Yes, he probably bolted off as they walked in, as toddlers do. Why this doesn't matter? Each Gospel writer is emphasizing something different: Luke highlights the poor and overlooked. Matthew highlights the outsiders and seekers. Together they reveal the wideness of God’s welcome. 7. There were three wise men Matthew never says three. We simply assume it because of the three gifts. Fair enough, but I’m fairly sure one wise man could hold more than one present. Why this doesn’t matter? The number isn’t the point. Their worship is. These strangers recognise what many locals fail to see: that God is doing something world-changing in that… room (not stable, remember). 8. The wise men were kings That’s later Christian tradition. In the text, they’re Magi, which means they are astrologers, scholars and star-readers. Why this doesn’t matter? Matthew includes them because his audience would recognise echoes of Israel’s Scriptures: nations streaming to the light, offering gifts to God’s chosen king. Crucially, he’s telling us who Jesus is, not writing a Wikipedia biography of the Magi. They are a side-plot, a brilliant one, but still a side-plot. Can you tell I was once a king in the school nativity play?! 9. Jesus was born on 25 December This trump card is brought out every December, as if it should reduce the faithful to pre-Christmas wrecks and force them to ditch their nativity sets. Clearly, it’s highly unlikely. To start with, shepherds don’t tend sheep outdoors at night in the coldest months. Early Christians may have chosen the date deliberately or symbolically to mark hope in darkness, or perhaps to supplant a pagan holiday. Why this doesn’t matter? The meaning of Christmas has never depended on the calendar. The point is that Christ is born and light breaks into the world. 10. The first Christmas was peaceful and silent We’ve all sung Silent Night enough times to imagine childbirth was a serene, candle-lit affair. It annoys me more than it should, as a father of three. In reality: noise, sweat, panic, relief — the whole earthy reality of bringing a baby into the world. Why this doesn’t matter? It might be the most glorious detail of all. God enters our world not clean and neat, but messy and embodied — just like the rest of us. So, Why Do Matthew and Luke Tell the Story This Way? This is where things get properly interesting. The differences between the Gospel accounts aren’t mistakes; they’re emphases. Each writer has a theological agenda, not in a manipulative sense, but in a pastoral sense. Luke’s purpose Luke writes for outsiders: people on the margins, Gentiles, those unsure if they belong. So he places the story among the humble, the poor, the unspectacular. His Jesus is good news for the lowly. His birth narrative echoes Mary’s song: “He has lifted up the humble.” Matthew’s purpose Matthew writes for a community wrestling with identity, Scripture, and fulfilment. His Jesus is the long-promised Messiah, the new Moses, the new David. So, he includes the Magi, the star, the royal symbolism, and the echoes of prophecy. Two perspectives, one truth God has come into the world. God is doing something new. God is drawing people in, the shepherd boy and the scholar, the faithful Jew and the foreign traveller. Neither writer is trying to satisfy modern scientific scrutiny nor write a textbook. They are preaching, proclaiming, and revealing. Debunking these myths doesn’t weaken the story, it strengthens it. This is the part people often overlook. Some Christians panic when the details are questioned, as if the whole thing might collapse like my wonky Christmas tree. Others become obsessed with proving that every detail must be historically perfect, as though the incarnation depends on winning a debate on BBC Radio 4. But the Gospel writers were not aiming for laboratory precision. They were telling a theological truth: God has stepped into human history. God has become vulnerable. God has drawn near. And that truth stands whether: Mary walked or rode Jesus was born in a stable or a downstairs family room The Magi came in three or thirty The date was December or April The incarnation is not fragile. It doesn’t fall apart when we ask questions. In fact, it becomes clearer, deeper, and more astonishing. Because when you strip away the traditions we’ve added, the donkeys, the shining stars and the tidy stable, what you’re left with is a story more grounded than any Christmas card. A teenage mother. A labouring couple far from home. A crowded house. A feeding trough. Ordinary people, ordinary chaos, extraordinary grace. God choosing the weakness of the world as the place to begin again. That, in the end, is the real miracle, one that no amount of myth-busting can diminish. © Paul Ian Clarke First published in Sacred & Secular in Medium. If this reflection stirred something in you, I write daily pieces like this in my Sacred & Secular newsletter at www.sacredandsecular.co.uk— a quiet space for slowing down, listening, and paying attention to the God who still speaks.

There is a profound difference between knowing something is true and seeing it clearly. We experience this in everyday life. A camera may capture a beautiful scene, but if the lens is smudged, the image is blurred. The scene hasn’t changed. Only our ability to perceive it. A painting may appear ordinary until ultraviolet light reveals hidden colors beneath the surface. The colors were always present; they simply required illumination. The sun shines constantly, yet clouds can obscure its brightness. The light never stops; our view does. These simple examples mirror a deeper spiritual reality: believers possess extraordinary blessings in Christ, yet struggle to see them with clarity. Paul understands this tension. After describing the breathtaking riches God has poured out on His people in Ephesians 1:3–14, such as election, adoption, redemption, forgiveness, sealing by the Spirit—he does not move on to new commands or fresh doctrines. Instead, he prays. He knows that spiritual truth, no matter how glorious, can remain unseen if the eyes of the heart are not enlightened. It is possible to be richly blessed and yet live as though spiritually impoverished. It is possible to possess every spiritual blessing in Christ and yet fail to recognize their value. So, Paul prays that believers would see what God has already given. He begins with thanksgiving. He has heard of their faith in the Lord Jesus and their love toward all the saints (Ephesians 1:15–16). These two qualities, faith and love, are the essential marks of genuine Christian life. Faith connects believers to Christ; love connects them to His people. Paul does not congratulate them for their progress; he thanks God for His work in them. Gratitude fuels intercession. Even strong believers need prayer, because spiritual sight is not automatic. Paul’s first request is that God would give them “a spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of Him” (Ephesians 1:17). Wisdom is the ability to see life from God’s perspective. Revelation is God pulling back the curtain so truth becomes clear. Paul is not asking for new information. He is asking for illumination of that which God has already revealed would become vivid, compelling, and life‑shaping. Psalm 119:18 expresses the same desire: that God would open our eyes to see the wonders of His Word. And 1 Corinthians 2:12 reminds us that the Spirit enables believers to understand what God has freely given. Spiritual sight is a gift, not an achievement. Paul then prays that “the eyes of your heart may be enlightened” (Ephesians 1:18). The heart, in Scripture, is the center of understanding, affection, and decision. Enlightened eyes of the heart means the ability to perceive reality as God reveals it. Paul identifies three specific truths believers must see clearly. First He prays they would know “the hope of His calling” (Ephesians 1:18a). Hope in the New Testament is not wishful thinking; it is confident expectation rooted in God’s promises. Romans 15:13 speaks of God filling His people with hope, and Hebrews 6:19 describes hope as an anchor for the soul. When believers see the hope of God’s calling — the future God has secured for them — they endure present trials with courage. Hope lifts the believer above circumstances and reminds them of their destination, not just their journey. Second Paul prays they would see “the riches of His glorious inheritance in the saints” (Ephesians 1:18b). This is not referring to the inheritance believers receive from God, though that is true. Paul is speaking of God’s inheritance in His people. Deuteronomy 32:9 calls God’s people His portion, and Titus 2:14 describes believers as those who belong to Him. God considers His people His treasure, His delight, His possession. Seeing this changes how believers view themselves and how they view the church. They are not insignificant; they are cherished. Third Paul prays they would grasp “the surpassing greatness of His power toward us who believe” (Ephesians 1:19). To describe this power, Paul stacks multiple Greek words: dynamis (inherent ability), energeia (active working), kratos (ruling strength), and ischys (forceful might). No single word can describe or capture the magnitude of God’s power. Philippians 2:13 reminds us that God works in His people, and 2 Corinthians 4:7 shows that His power is displayed through human weakness. This power is not distant; it is directed toward believers. Paul anchors this power in the resurrection. The power at work in believers is the same power God exerted when He raised Christ from the dead and seated Him at His right hand (Ephesians 1:19–20). Romans 8:11 affirms that the Spirit who raised Jesus dwells in believers, and Ephesians 3:20 declares that God is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine according to His power at work within us. If God can raise the dead, nothing in a believer’s life is beyond His reach. Finally Paul lifts their eyes to Christ’s authority. Christ is seated far above all rule, authority, power, and dominion (Ephesians 1:21). His reign is present, not future. God has placed all things under His feet and appointed Him as head over everything for the church (Ephesians 1:22). Colossians 1:18 affirms Christ as the head of the church, and Matthew 28:18–20 declares His universal authority. The church is His body, the fullness of Him who fills all in all (Ephesians 1:23). Believers are not spectators; they are participants in His mission. Paul’s prayer is simple but profound. He is not asking for new blessings, but clearer sight. Insight comes from God. Hope anchors. Riches assure. Power strengthens. Christ leads. The fog lifts when God opens the eyes of the heart. Lord, give us eyes to see. © 2026 Randy DeVaul, MA Want more content like this? Explore more articles in Exploring Scripture. Press Ctrl + P (Windows) or Cmd + P (Mac) to print this article or save it as a PDF.

I’ve volunteered with children and youth ministries for more than a decade, and in that time, I’ve been able to observe hundreds of parents through the eyes of their students. Something became glaringly obvious to me one evening when, during small group time, a student was unable to answer a very simple question — “Who is Jesus?” This was not a student who had walked through the church doors for the first time or was uncomfortable speaking in front of a small group. Rather, this student had grown up in the church, had parents who were highly involved in the church, and was one of the first ones on the list to attend every youth camp and activity offered. This was a student who had spent years at church, learning about Jesus, yet couldn’t manage to come up with a response to the most basic question about our Savior. That day, it became unquestioningly clear to me that it is not the responsibility of the church to disciple. Discipleship is on the parents. What is Church for? Don’t hear what I’m not saying. Attending a local church as a family and making sure our kids are plugged in to the body of believers is vital to our faith. At church, we fellowship with brothers and sisters in Christ, participate in corporate worship & teaching, and offer encouragement to one another. Church is the place we find people to do life with, to minister to, and to grow with. Without it, we’d become spiritually malnourished as believers. However, it is not the sole responsibility of the church to disciple our kids. Discipleship starts at home and includes going to church, but it is not only about going to church. Look at it this way — if a person attends church regularly, this is roughly what their weekly schedule might look like: Sunday School: 1 hour Sunday worship service: 1 hour Sunday night service: 1 hour Wednesday night service: 1 hour When you factor in time for other activities at church, such as worship, announcements, and socializing, there’s little teaching time left (maybe 20–30 minutes each time). A lot of churches don’t offer Sunday night services anymore, either, so there’s potentially another chunk of time missed. All things considered, we’re looking at an average of 80 minutes per week that students could be exposed to the word of God in a formal church setting. That’s just shy of an hour and a half at best. At worst, we’re talking less than an hour. This is why I say: the church is not designed to disciple our kids. At least, not on its own. Church is designed for us to meet together with a local body of believers for encouragement and Bible teaching. It equips and empowers us to go and make disciples, and that includes our kids. I don’t write this to shame anyone, but rather to offer a wake-up call or an encouraging nudge to all parents — we have to be teaching our children the Word of God at home. It simply isn’t optional. If we don’t teach them what Jesus said, the world will. And the world will get it wrong every time. We see that often. What does Scripture Say? Don’t take my word for it — I’m just a random person on the internet. What does the Word say about it? Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates, so that your days and the days of your children may be many in the land that the LORD swore to give your forefathers, as many as the days that the heavens are above the earth. — Deuteronomy 11:18–21 Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord.— Ephesians 6:4 Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it. — Proverbs 22:6 Parents are responsible for training and teaching their children in the way of the Lord. It’s a weighty responsibility that we can’t take lightly. I look at my son often and think about the fact that if he chooses to get married and have a family someday, it means I’m currently shaping the habits, beliefs, and worldview of someone’s husband and father. Christian parents, we are not simply in the business of raising the next generation of adults. We are in the business of bringing up the next generation of disciples. © Stephanie M Thanks for reading! If any of this resonated with you, or you’d like to see more content like this, please consider subscribing so you’ll never miss out on a post. 🫶🏻

For centuries, scholars, theologians, and scientists have asked what manna was in the Bible. That mysterious food God provided to the Israelites in the desert. According to Scripture, manna sustained a massive number of people for forty years as they journeyed from Egypt to the Promised Land, a daily provision unlike anything they had ever seen. While the Bible describes it as “bread” from heaven, historians and scientists have suggested various possible natural sources. In exploring manna, we can examine the Biblical text and natural explanations, all while marveling at the miracle at the heart of this story. “Behold, I will rain bread from the sky for you, and the people shall go out and gather a day’s portion every day,” Exodus 16:4 Biblical Descriptions of Manna Psalm 78:24 calls manna the “grain of heaven,” and the Hebrew word there, dagan, does mean grain or cereal. But that Psalm is poetry; in the same breath it also calls manna “bread of angels,” a name for the finest heavenly food, not a botanical description. The stronger clue that manna behaved as grain comes from how the Israelites handled it: they gathered it, ground it, and baked it into cakes, the way you would a cereal. “like coriander seed, and it looked like bdellium” Numbers 11:7–8 “was like coriander seed, white; and its taste was like wafers with honey.” Exodus 16:31 “was a small round thing, small as the frost on the ground.” Exodus 16:14 And it appeared daily, except on the Sabbath. Any leftover manna would spoil, except on the sixth day, when God preserved it for the Sabbath. Exodus 16:19–30. Scholars and scientists have proposed several natural sources for manna, each consistent with desert environments. The digestive byproduct of insects that feed on the sap of the Haloxylon salicornicum shrub (yup, you read that right), identified in the Sinai by botanist Avinoam Danin, who later questioned whether the link to biblical manna was ancient or borrowed. ³ A sweet secretion from the tamarisk tree, known in old Persian sources as taranjabin, “wet honey.” ³ A desert lichen, Lecanora esculenta, gathered & baked into bread by desert nomads. ⁴ Why It Was Divine No Matter The Origin It doesn’t matter which of these, if any, turns out to be right. The miracle was never in what manna was made of. It was in how it came. Daily, reliably, on a schedule, in quantities no desert could supply, for four decades. God can and will use the natural world to keep His promises. Finding a natural mechanism wouldn’t explain the miracle away; it would only show us the means He used. What no natural source can account for is the pattern. A Remarkable Detail Let’s start with the strangest part. Manna behaved differently depending on the day of the week. Kept overnight, it rotted. Yet the batch gathered on the sixth day stayed fresh through the seventh, so the Israelites could keep the Sabbath. “but some of them left of it until the morning, so it bred worms and became foul; and Moses was angry with them.” Exodus 16:20 “They laid it up until the morning, as Moses ordered, and it didn’t become foul, and there were no worms in it.” Exodus 16:24 Sap does not know what day it is. A secretion, a fungus, an insect byproduct — none of them runs a calendar app and changes its chemistry. The same food spoiling on one night and keeping on another, in step with the Sabbath, is the detail no natural candidate can do, let alone for 40 years straight. The manna did not merely appear; it appeared with purpose, timing, and provision built into it. The Sheer Volume of Manna The sheer volume is staggering too, though the volume is almost the least of it. In Exodus 12:37, we learn that “about six hundred thousand on foot who were men, in addition to children” left Egypt with Moses. Six hundred thousand men alone would fill Michigan Stadium, the largest football stadium in the United States, about five to six times over. Counting women and children, many scholars estimate the total nearer to two million people. (That number is up for debate, though, since some scholars take the Hebrew word for “thousand” to mean a clan or unit rather than a literal thousand.) Two million is the number I’ll use here, but it is an estimate, not an absolute. In Exodus 16:16, each person gathered one omer per day. An omer is a Hebrew dry measure; the Jewish Study Bible puts it at roughly 2.3 liters (which, depending on manna’s density, is somewhere around 2.4 to 3.9 pounds; a rough sense of scale, since no one knows what manna actually weighed). If the population approached two million, that is roughly 4 to 6 million liters of food every single day. Manna fell six days a week, not on the Sabbath, which over forty years comes to about 12,500 days of collection. Even on conservative estimates, that is over 25 billion individual daily portions, and something on the order of 57 billion liters of food, appearing day after day in a harsh desert. But notice what still resists explanation here. It isn’t the size. A large quantity of a natural substance is still natural; big is not the same as supernatural. What no natural process matches is the combination — that volume, arriving on that schedule, in that fixed and barren region, pausing every seventh day, for forty years. The size is what makes your eyes pop, but the schedule is what makes it a miracle. Faith Meets Inquiry Strip all those numbers away and what remains? A people who could not feed themselves were fed, every morning, for a generation, by something that kept perfect time with the day God set apart. We can chase the natural explanations, and we should; it’s genuinely fun to look into. But the chase is not a threat to the miracle. God provided daily, reliably, and miraculously, for forty years, in a way science or history alone cannot account for. God’s hand was unmistakably at work. The lesson is simple: God will provide, and we are called to trust and obey Him. © Jane Isley Sources: Scripture quotations are from the World English Bible (WEB). ³ Vered Guttman, “Manna Is Real and Not So Heavenly,” Moment Magazine, Winter 2019. https://momentmag.com/manna-is-real-and-not-so-heavenly/ — for the Haloxylon insect honeydew (Avinoam Danin) and the tamarisk taranjabin secretion. ⁴ Heino Lepp, “Manna Lichens,” Australian National Botanic Gardens. https://www.anbg.gov.au/lichen/case-studies/manna-lichens.html — for the desert lichen Lecanora esculenta. Also referenced: Scripture: Exodus 16:1–36; Numbers 11:7–9; Exodus 12:37; Joshua 5:12; Psalm 78:24 Omer measurement: “What Is an Omer?” ChristianAnswers.net. Press Ctrl + P (Windows) or Cmd + P (Mac) to print this article or save it as a PDF.

I have to admit, for the longest time I went back and forth on where Enoch and Elijah ended up, thinking I had to have a concrete answer. I do believe I have a bit more of an answer now, after doing a study of this, and I want to share what I took away from it. Let us start with two passages at the center of this conversation. “By faith Enoch was taken away, so that he wouldn’t see death, and he was not found, because God translated him. For he has had testimony given to him that before his translation he had been well pleasing to God.” Hebrews 11:5 “As they continued on and talked, behold, a chariot of fire and horses of fire separated them; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven.” 2 Kings 2:11 Of Course I’m Going To Look At The Languages In 2 Kings 2:11, the word translated as “heaven” is shamayim, a Hebrew noun that can mean the sky, the atmosphere, or the dwelling place of God depending on context. It is the same word used in Genesis 1:1 when God creates “the heavens and the earth.” The word itself does not tell us which heaven Elijah went to. A whirlwind is an atmospheric event, which at least raises the question of whether the text has the sky in view rather than God’s throne room. (Now this is not me saying that is what happened, just what a straightforward translation could indicate.) In Enoch’s case, it says only that “God took him” and that he “did not experience death.” There is no mention of a heaven, just removal. In Hebrews 11:5, the Greek word is metatithēmi, meaning to transfer, change, remove, or translate. Many translations render it “taken up,” but that up is supplied by the translators; the word itself carries no physical direction, and in Genesis 5:24, laqach “to take” is the only word we are given. So in both men’s cases, the original words are directionally silent. The “up” and the “to heaven” certainty we tend to carry is supplied in translation, not in the text. Here is a detail that is easy to miss. Neither man is ever placed in Sheol in Scripture, not that everyone is, but I did notice that as well. These two don’t die at all, and aren’t said to be anywhere. This combination (no death and no named destination) is unique to them. Two Exceptions? “No one has ascended into heaven but he who descended out of heaven, the Son of Man, who is in heaven.” ~ John 3:13 The language alone only tells us that Scripture is silent about where they went. This is the passage that brought me from ‘we can’t tell’ to ‘not heaven’ — because it says heaven wasn’t open to anyone yet. Some argue Jesus was not making a statement about who had or had not been to heaven, but rather emphasizing His authority as the one who came from heaven. I can kinda see how that came about. But three things still come up with that. First, the plain sense reads as access, not expertise: no one has ascended. Yes, the context is Jesus contrasting His heavenly origin with earthly teachers, and someone could read “ascended” as being about the authority to reveal heavenly things. But the verb is still going up into heaven, and the natural force of “no one has” is a closed door. Second, the reason no one had gone to heaven yet is theological, not circumstantial. Jesus had not yet died, atoned for sin, or been resurrected. Heaven as the eternal destination of the redeemed was not yet open. That redemptive act had not yet been completed. Third, and this is still the barrier: Enoch and Elijah didn’t die. So if heaven wasn’t open to anyone before Christ, they couldn’t have gone there, either by dying into it or by being carried into it early. Their not-dying doesn’t make them exceptions to John 3:13. It puts them under it. As Hebrews 9:12 makes clear, it was through His own blood that Christ entered the holy place once for all, securing eternal redemption. If Enoch and Elijah had bypassed that entirely, it would cut against the very logic Hebrews lays out, that Christ’s blood is what opened the way. Kinda defeats the purpose if there were two exceptions before that door was ever opened. Jehoram’s Pen Pal This is where things get interesting. In 2 Chronicles 21:12–15, King Jehoram of Judah receives a letter from Elijah rebuking him for his wickedness and prophesying his death. The problem is that, based on the most common reading of 2 Kings’ chronology, Elijah had already been taken up in the whirlwind before Jehoram’s reign was well underway. So how does a prophet who has been swept away in a fiery chariot send a letter years later? Several explanations abound. The most widely held is that Elijah wrote the letter prophetically before his departure and left it with the school of prophets, likely Elisha, to be delivered when Jehoram’s wickedness reached the threshold described. Others suggest the biblical narrative in 2 Kings is not strictly chronological and that Elijah may have still been alive and active at the time. The first explanation is clean-cut; the second not so much. I lean toward the first as the likeliest, but I mention this because even the tidy answer depends on a chronology that’s contested. The letter does not prove Elijah stayed on Earth, but it does show that his story does not tie up as neatly as we may like. So Where Are They Now? What I can say with confidence is that they were not taken to heaven, at least not the way it opened to the redeemed after Christ died and rose again — the permanent, eternal home the cross made accessible. That’s based on John 3:13 and the requirement of Christ’s atonement coming first. What happened to them is wholly unique and sovereign; Scripture says that much plainly. Look at how little it actually says about Enoch. “Enoch walked with God, and he was not found, for God took him.” (Genesis 5:24). That’s it. No destination, no explanation, just “God took him.” Here are the dots my brain is connecting, and I want to be up front about that. God doesn’t do anything, let alone singular things idly. When Scripture goes out of its way to say something was done by God’s own hand and not to anyone else, and then says almost nothing more, that usually carries some weight later. So I read the uniqueness as a setup, not just an oddity. That’s an inference, not a verse. What that purpose is, we may never fully understand or know. But that alone is telling us something, even if it’s only this: God went out of His way here, and God doesn’t go out of His way for nothing. And I’ve come to think the not-knowing-for-sure is part of it. Scripture leaves some doors nudged open rather than shut, and I don’t read that as sloppiness or incomplete. It keeps us on our toes, keeps us digging, keeps us from treating God like something we’ve already got figured out. They did not die, at least not yet, and not the way everyone else does. So where does that leave them? The Two Witnesses: A Notable Possibility The answer I find most compelling (and I’m open to God correcting this) is that they’re being preserved for a future assignment. The theory that Enoch and Elijah are the two witnesses of Revelation 11 is not as fringe as I once thought. It is, in fact, one of the earliest identifications on record, going back at least to Hippolytus of Rome, who in the early third century identified them as Enoch and Elijah specifically because they are the only two human beings in all of Scripture who never experienced death. This matters because Hebrews 9:27 says it is appointed for man to die once. If that appointment holds for everyone, and neither Enoch nor Elijah has died yet, then for them it’s still on the table. The Revelation 11 witnesses have power to shut the sky so that no rain falls during their ministry, exactly what Elijah did in 1 Kings 17:1. They also turn water to blood and strike the earth with plagues. Now, you’ll notice that the water-to-blood and the plagues sound like Moses, and that’s exactly why many argue the pair is Moses and Elijah instead. But Moses died; Deuteronomy records his death and burial. Hebrews 9:27 says each person dies once, and Moses already has. Enoch and Elijah haven’t yet. If the two witnesses are going to die at the end of their testimony, as Revelation 11 says they do, they would have to be two people whose one appointed death is still ahead of them. That points back to the only two who can fill that gap. At the end of their testimony, the beast kills them, their bodies lie in the streets for three and a half days, and then they are resurrected and ascend to heaven in full view of their enemies (Revelation 11:11–12). If this is Enoch and Elijah, that ascension would be their first true death and their first true arrival in heaven (the heaven they were never quite taken to), which would finally satisfy both Hebrews 9:27 and John 3:13 in one moment. The Malachi Connection In Malachi 4:5, God promises to send Elijah “before the great and terrible day of Yahweh comes.” Straightforward enough, until you try to figure out who that Elijah is. The New Testament ties the promise to John the Baptist from two directions. Before John was even born, an angel told his father Zacharias that John would go before the Lord “in the spirit and power of Elijah” (Luke 1:17). And later, Jesus says, “but I tell you that Elijah has come already, and they didn’t recognize him, but did to him whatever they wanted to” and the disciples understood He meant John (Matthew 17:12–13). So that seems to settle it. Elijah came; it was John, move along. Except John, asked to his face, said no. When the priests and Levites asked him directly, “Are you Elijah?” he answered flatly, “No” (John 1:21). The man everyone else is calling Elijah gets the question point-blank and denies it. So which is it? Here’s how the two fit, John came in Elijah’s spirit and power, and that's role language, the job of preparing the way. Jesus affirms the role was filled. But John was never the literal Elijah of Malachi, and John knew it, which is exactly why he could say “No” without contradicting a word Jesus said. And notice when Jesus made His statement: John was already dead by then (Matthew 14). Even looking back on John’s finished life, Jesus frames it as the role fulfilled, not John turning out to be the literal Elijah. The denial John gave while alive and the identification Jesus made after John’s death don’t contradict. They agree — role, not person. So the role got filled. The man himself, the Elijah of Malachi, has not returned yet. And that leaves a door open. Malachi didn’t just say Elijah would come; he said Elijah would come “before the great and terrible day of Yahweh comes.” That day did not arrive in John the Baptist’s lifetime. The Romans were horrible, but they were not the day of the Lord. So if that day is still ahead of us, and Elijah comes before it, the arrival that satisfies Malachi in full may still be ahead of us too. Which brings us right back to the two witnesses. One thing I have to point out. Almost everything here has been about Elijah, and Enoch barely appears. Maybe that’s the point, or maybe it’s nothing. But I can’t ignore it: whatever happened to these two, it happened the same way. What Lies Ahead Of Us Out of all this fancy word work and breakdown, here’s what dawned on me hardest when studying, and I’ll say up front it rides on what I have put together with Scripture. If these really are the two, then think on this one. Just how far gone will the world be that God has to reach back, past centuries, even past the flood, all the way to two men He personally removed from space and time, to bring them forward as His final prophets? Enoch walked with God in the world before the flood, a world that was heading toward being wiped out. Elijah ministered to a nation that had all but abandoned God. If these are the two He calls to speak in the last days, what does that tell us about the days we are heading into? Conclusion There are mysteries in Scripture that we are not promised will be resolved this side of eternity, and the departure of Enoch and Elijah may be one of them. What I am confident of is this: their removal was intentional and utterly unique. What I lean toward, and hold with an open hand, is that the preservation is purposeful and their story isn’t finished. God does not do things like this without reason. He pulled two men out of history with His own hand and left their endings unwritten, which, for a God who does not waste anything, feels like a monumental ding ding ding moment. Whether they are the two witnesses of Revelation, or whether God has something else entirely in mind, the right response isn’t obsession, and it isn’t forcing a die-on-this-hill answer where Scripture doesn’t give one. It’s learning to enjoy the study, even the odd, the confusing, the deliberately left-blank. Do not lose a brother or sister over what Scripture leaves beautifully unresolved. © Jane Isley Still thinking about Enoch and what the Bible says about him? These two articles go deeper: 👉 Did Jesus Quote the Book of Enoch? What the Timeline Actually Shows Before drawing conclusions about Enoch's role in end times prophecy, it helps to settle what the Bible actually attributes to him — and what it does not. This one clears up a claim that is all over the internet. 👉 Biblical Truth: Heaven vs. Plato If Enoch and Elijah are being held for a future purpose, understanding what heaven actually is — versus what Greek philosophy told us it was — matters more than most people realize. Key scriptures referenced: Genesis 5:22–27 · Genesis 5:24 · Exodus 33:18–22 · 1 Kings 17:1 · 2 Kings 2:11 · 2 Chronicles 21:12–15 · Malachi 4:5 · Matthew 17:12–13 · John 3:13 · 2 Corinthians 12:2 · Hebrews 9:12 · Hebrews 9:27 · Hebrews 11:5 · Revelation 11 · Revelation 20:4–5 GotQuestions.org; Who was Elijah in the Bible? GotQuestions.org; How did Elijah send a letter to King Jehoram, if Elijah had already been taken to heaven? Press Ctrl + P (Windows) or Cmd + P (Mac) to print this article or save it as a PDF.