“Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews?”  Matt. 2:2

No one is ever born a king.

You usually have to start out as a prince and work your way up.

Herod was the second son of a high ranking government official who appointed his twenty-something boy to be governor of Galilee. Herod was promoted to “tetrarch” (leader of 1/4 of a kingdom) by Marc Antony. After three years of conflict and political maneuvering, Herod and his army captured Jerusalem and the Roman Senate gave him the title “King of the Jews”.  He gave himself the title “King Herod the Great”.

Herod was a man who knew the right people,

aligned himself with the powerful party,

and fought for his place of rank.

And now, a tiny little baby

born to a poor carpenter

and his teenage wife

was being called

a king?

When we had family members living far away, it was always a comfort to know that they were seeing the same sun, moon, and stars as we were. Looking up into the same heavens made us feel closer, somehow.

For 400 years, the chosen people held on to hope that God would send them a Savior.  King Herod was well aware of this predicted Messiah.  When foreign dignitaries rode into Jerusalem with talk about a star and a king, Herod got nervous.  He called on the synagogue leaders to bring him the information he was after.  The priests pulled out Micah’s scroll and found the exact location of the Messiah’s predicted birthplace — Bethlehem.

They had all the information.  Who.  What.  When.  Where.

If the religious folks had just looked up, they might have even noticed the same star.

But they didn’t. 

They didn’t even go over to Bethlehem to see the fulfilled prophecy for themselves.

People can know all the right stuff, but if they don’t show up, they aren’t really a part of the story.

The other day, I was looking for my reading glasses.  I have strategically placed several pair of the Dollar Store variety all around the house. I refuse to wear reading glasses around my neck with a chain. My 5th grade teacher did that, and she was old.

I looked high and low before catching a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror, where I saw the specs perched on my head.  Maybe I am old.

Foreigners traveled hundreds of miles across a desert and made their way to Bethlehem.  But chief priests and teachers of the law six miles down the road didn’t seem all that interested.

Sometimes the closer things are, the harder they are to notice.

“Where is the one…?”  Matthew 2:2

It seems the star that compelled the wise men to go on their journey disappeared for a time.  So naturally, they went to Jerusalem because, naturally, that was where the royal palace was, where, naturally, a king would be born.

Except this was a super-natural event.

“When they saw the star, they were overjoyed.”  Matthew 2:10

You bet they were overjoyed.  Seeing that star reappear validated their 1,000 mile, four month (or more) journey.  That bright light confirmed that they weren’t crazy.  That radiant beam assured them that they were in the right place.

There is often a “middle” part in our journey, when the light doesn’t shine like it did at first. In those moments, we, too, may ask, “Where is He?” But we have to keep moving along, even in the dark.  Because if we don’t, we’ll miss the light at the end — the part where joy overflows.

“We saw his star in the east and have come to worship him.”  Matthew 2:2

How did those Magi know the star was his star?

How did they know the star meant a king had been born in Israel?

Why did they want to worship this infant king?

Why would they travel hundreds of miles to see a child?

Were they pagan astrologers or believing astronomers?

Were they familiar with the writings of Ezra, Nehemiah and Daniel —

those prophets of God who had been exiles in Babylon?

Did they recall the days in Persia when Queen Esther saved her people?

Did they read the prophecy of Balaam in the Pentateuch?

“A star will come out of Jacob, a scepter will rise out of Israel”              (Numbers 24:17)

“We have seen his star…..”  Matthew 2:2

I grew up on a farm, away from city street lights. On a clear night, the sky full of twinkling stars was a wonder to me. I’ve lived my adult life in cities or small towns and haven’t considered the work of His hands in the heavens very often. Recently, I had a chance to look up and take in the splendor of a starry sky and was awe-struck once more.

Of all the ways God could have guided those wise men to the baby in the manger, He chose a star. Not angels. Not a prophecy rolled up in a scroll. Not a voice in a dream. One star.

Only those looking toward the heavens would find their way to the Savior.

I find that to be true for me as well. When I keep my eyes down, focusing on this world and all of its brokenness, I can easily become discouraged. When I look to earthly promises of satisfaction, I am consistently disappointed. When I follow the cultural crowd, I get disoriented and feel lost.

“Look up!” my soul reminds me.

Every December, I try to look for new truths within the old Nativity story.

This year I can’t stop thinking about that star.

Let’s see where it leads us.