Spiritual experience is like sexual experience; it matters who it’s with. There’s more than one being out there to interact with, and not every encounter that seems to start out safe, sane and consensual ends up as advertised. It’s far easier to find something real than it is to find something good.
It’s important to pay attention to the Scriptures, in which God tells us how to lean into good spiritual experience and avoid experiences that will hurt us. From earliest days, we’ve been ready to ignore what God said and seize anything that seems good for food, pleasant to the eyes, and desirable to make us wise. And there’s always some snake ready to say, “Go on–take it. It’ll be fine.”
An orphaned spirit can manifest in rebellion or in religion. It can be the prodigal who runs away or the older brother who stays with a sense of entitlement — either one of which boils down to “Look at me, Daddy!”
In reality, Father God has never looked away, never abandoned us, but it is no accident that we think he has. Mother Church told us Papa wouldn’t talk to us directly; she said he only spoke through her. (Convenient, right?) Because we were children, we believed her, and we lost confidence in our ability to hear God. Then, far too often, Mother Church withheld her love unless we conformed to rules designed for her comfort and convenience, rather than our growth. Within Mother Church, many of us found no breathing room.
Some of us grew up into everything she wanted. Some of us stayed around, but got progressively more angry and sullen. Some of us ran away from home. We were children. Perhaps we did the best we could with whatever we understood at the time. But we have to grow up sometime, and an adult is responsible to re-evaluate.
The truth is, Mother Church lied. She said you had to check all the boxes and do all the things or Papa would ignore you. But it was never actually about performance, and Father God loves you more than you can imagine. He never stopped speaking; you can hear His voice.
In Matthew’s usage, “fulfill” has a fuller sense (if you’ll pardon the expression) than just the Micah 5:2//Matthew 2:5-6 predictive prophecy usage. For example, the Hosea 11//Matthew 2 usage is real fulfillment, but it’s not predictive prophecy. The Hosea passage is not a prediction of the future Messiah, but a reflection on Israel’s history: “When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called My son.”
The original sense in Hosea is critical to Matthew’s meaning. Knowing that Israel is God’s son is necessary to understanding the points that Matthew is making: first, that Jesus is Israel (in a meaningful sense that Matthew will spend the whole book exploring), and second, that the land of Israel has become spiritual Egypt – a point that will be reinforced by John the Baptist when he calls the remnant out into the desert to pass through water.
We don’t want to read something into the text that isn’t there. At the same time, we don’t want to miss something that *is* there—and the NT shows us repeatedly that there’s a LOT more there than one might think at first glance. From Jesus Himself proving the resurrection by exegeting a verb tense in Genesis (Luke 20:37-38) to the fulfillments of the first few chapters of Matthew (1:22-23, 2:15, 17-18, 23) to the dizzying displays of Hebrews, the NT shows us a way of reading the OT that we wouldn’t have come up with on our own. It had to be revealed to us.
In conservative circles, we have gotten our hermeneutics from the Book of Nature (mostly as read by E. D. Hirsch), which is very useful as far as it goes. But God wrote two books–God’s Word and God’s world–and the Book of Scripture also has something to teach us about how to read well. We should not refuse to learn that set of lessons as well.
Contrary to the popular song, the Magi were not “three kings.” The Magi were diviners, astrologers, prophets, wise counselors — not kings, but king-makers, the power behind the throne of the Parthian Empire, Rome’s enemy to the east. So when their delegation arrived inside the Roman Empire, in the court of Herod, Rome’s puppet king in the province of Judea, it made a bit of a splash. The fact that they were looking for a new king only made it worse.
How did they come to be looking for a king? “We saw his star,” they said. Five hundred years earlier, Daniel had become the chief of the Magi, not only recording his own dreams and visions of Israel’s promised Messiah, but also bringing the Hebrew Scriptures with him. A thousand years before that, those Scriptures reported, Balaam had prophesied that a star would rise out of Jacob.
The Magi watched the heavens as a matter of course. And when the star appeared, they searched their books, learned what it meant, and came to meet the king. Took a little doing, but they found Him.
Christians sometimes get a little possessive of Jesus, and start thinking that “outsiders” (however defined) can’t possibly know what we know about Him. How could the Magi find Jesus by watching the stars? Because He made them, and rightly understood, they point to Him.