Wade Johnston, Life Under the Cross: A Biography of the Reformer Matthias Flacius Illyricus, Concordia Publishing House, St. Louis: MO, 2025.
This ancient “tale of two mothers” concerns far more than theological semantics—it is the difference between a God who sends and a God who comes.
This story points us from our unlikely heroes to the even more unlikely, and joyous, good news that Jesus’ birth for us was just as unlikely and unexpected.

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That great truth of creedal Christianity – that God is man in Christ – is not set forth for our speculative enjoyment.
The good news of the Gospel is Jesus has come, and Jesus will come again.
It makes perfect sense that the day honoring Jesus' birth would be observed in a decidedly less than refined manner.
When we pray to Jesus, we pray to the King's right hand. We know one who has the Father's ear, respect and trust. And the one who intercedes for us is still one of us, with nail-pierced hands.
The whole Old Testament leans with this unanswered and open-ended question at the end: Is he here yet?
Why is it important for us to confess and remember the virgin birth? It is important because of its place within the total story of redemption.
He is given His name so you could call on it. He is called Jesus, so you can call on Jesus and be saved.
Psalm 98, with its promise of a sea and mountains singing, takes these imposing natural features and turns them into a praise choir.
Despite our best efforts to avoid him, King Jesus remains very much unavoidable.
The king has arrived and has already begun his reign forever and ever.
God the Father sent us – his wayward, sinful, and naughty children – his own series of Father Christmas Letters.
To trust in the Lord, the Messiah, the Deliverer, is our salvation and our only hope. Yet he does not trust us to have this “trust” on our own or of our own will.