“Pray without ceasing.”

1 Thessalonians 5:17

Several weeks ago we addressed the challenge of being more consistent in prayer. We noted how the early church was “devoted to prayer” (Acts 2:42) and that disciples are commanded to “continue steadfastly in prayer” (Col. 4:2), “be constant in prayer” (Rom. 12:12) and “pray without ceasing” (1 Thess. 5:17).

In the lesson, we focused on three important concepts that help with this consistency: knowing God in prayer (the foundation of prayer is biblical knowledge of God), trusting God in prayer (the key to prayer is obedient faith in God) and engaging God in prayer (the pattern of prayer is daily contact with God). It might be time for a reminder so let’s review the last point about engaging God in prayer.

First, it is important we recognize our weakness. Jesus knows that while our spirit may be willing, our flesh is weak (Mk. 14:38). In that same context, he commands his disciples (twice) to “pray that you may not enter temptation” (Lk. 22:40, 46). The solution to giving into temptation is prayer. Despite his earlier warnings (31-34) and the command to pray (40), Peter failed to pray in the garden (45-46). This explains his denials of Jesus later that night which ended with him in bitter tears (54-62). Peter is restored afterwards, but his example reminds us of our great need for prayer. If Jesus was in constant communication with his Father (39), how much more ought we to pray?

Staying consistent in prayer keeps us from following our own will, overestimating ourselves and relying on our own resources. When we are praying, we are seeking to do God’s will, trusting in God’s wisdom and relying on God’s resources. We must recognize that our hearts are prone to wander and that our flesh is weak. There is sense of danger that is always present in the life of a Christian. Therefore, we must “pray without ceasing.” Prayer strengthens us for the trials that are coming. In contrast to Peter, Jesus triumphed over temptation during his trial because he did not fail to pray in the garden.

Second, we ought to vary our approach. Our prayer life should adapt to the ever-changing circumstances of life. Paul illustrates the variety of prayers we can offer in 1 Timothy 2:1. In “supplication” we bring our personal needs to God, asking him to intervene on our behalf. In “intercession" we bring the needs of others to God, asking him to intervene on their behalf. “Thanksgivings” are prayers of gratitude and praise. There are plenty of others as well—prayers of adoration (Psa. 148:13), confession of sin (32:5), commitment (1 Sam. 1:10-11), imprecation (Psa. 7), physical healing (Jas. 5:14-15), spiritual deliverance (Psa. 107:6) and transformation (139:23-24).

The point is, there’s nothing wrong with repeating the same prayer, but we need to guard against vain repetition (Mt. 6:7). If you find your prayer life has gotten stale or that you’re slipping into a mindless ritual when you pray, look to God’s word to see the wide variety of prayers you can offer and use them as a guide.

For example, the book of Psalms is a readymade book of prayers. You can use the Psalms to guide your words and keep your mind from wandering. First, simply read the psalm. Then meditate on it for a few moments, savoring the words and turning the phrases over in your mind. Finally, appropriate the concepts of the psalm into your prayer, personalizing it for your situation. This will add depth and variety to your prayer life. It will get you out of your comfort zone to pray about things you normally wouldn’t think to pray about.

Finally, we need to create a routine. There’s certainly nothing wrong with spontaneous prayer, but if we don’t prioritize and schedule prayer we may find that we pray less often. To help with this, we can get specific by creating a schedule for prayer. In this schedule we can set measurable goals such as praying for at least 10 minutes and using a text to act as a guide. We can choose a specific time and place best suited for our purpose. Scheduling prayer doesn’t limit prayer or erase spontaneity, it gives priority to it. This is how habits are formed (consider the example Daniel, Dan. 6:10). A sample schedule is provided below.

Staying consistent also requires having realistic expectations. A perfectionist mindset can lead to discouragement and failure. There will be times when we fail to be as consistent in prayer as we should. God knows we are weak (Mk. 14:38), but instead of allowing us to quit, he encourages us to turn to him for forgiveness and new strength (1 Jn. 1:5-10). Remember, having a few off-days does not negate the other on-days. Just keep praying.

Finally, staying consistent means living one day at a time. Developing a new habit can be overwhelming. But the Lord reminds us, “do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” (Mt. 6:34) Jesus isn’t discouraging planning for the future. He’s stressing the importance of having a present faith. Our devotion to God in prayer is a daily decision. It is not a choice made only once  in the past, but one that must be made “today” and every day. “Pray without ceasing.”

“You are a priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.”

Psalm 110:4b

The enigmatic Melchizedek shows up only three times in Scripture but he turns out to be quite an important figure. Let’s look at each passage to see why.

Genesis 14 is an action-packed chapter set in the wake of Abraham’s separation from his nephew Lot. Their herds had grown too large to coexist peacefully, thanks to God’s abundant blessing (12:1-3). Lot chose to settle in the fertile Jordan Valley near Sodom—a place that seemed like paradise but was inhabited by notoriously wicked people (13:10-13). Over time, a coalition of kings launched a campaign against the region, and Lot was taken captive in the conflict (14:1-12). When Abraham heard of Lot’s capture, he gathered his trained men, mounted a daring rescue and defeated the opposing kings. Upon Abraham’s return from battle, he was approached by two contrasting figures: the king of Sodom and the king of Salem (14:17). The text reveals four things about Melchizedek that connect to Abraham and contrast the king of Sodom:

1. His name — Melchizedek means “king of righteousness.” Though Abraham was flawed, God counted him as “righteous” because of his faith in God’s promises (15:6). This stands in stark contrast to Sodom, a city known for its great wickedness (13:13).
2. His place — Salem, shorthand for Jerusalem, means “peace” (Psa 76:2). The next time the root for “peace” appears is in God’s promise that Abraham would live to a good old age and die “in peace” (15:15). Salem represents peace and righteousness, while Sodom would be exposed as a place of corruption and violence (19:1ff).
3. His office — Melchizedek is called “priest of God Most High” (14:18). A priest serves as a mediator between God and people. The God he serves—“Possessor of heaven and earth” (19)—is the same God who had blessed Abraham with wealth (see 13:2, 7 where the same root for ‘possess’ is used of Abraham’s “livestock”).
4. His actions — Melchizedek graciously hosts Abraham with a royal feast (18) and pronounces a blessing upon him (19-20a). His words echo God’s original promise to Abraham (12:1-3). He declares that God has delivered Abraham’s enemies into his hand—a term from the same Hebrew root as “shield” in Genesis 15:1, where God promised to be Abraham’s protection. While Abraham snubs the king of Sodom, refusing to come under any obligation to him (21-24), he readily acknowledges Melchizedek’s priestly authority by giving him a tenth of the spoils of war (20b).

Psalm 110 — Melchizedek doesn’t reappear in the Old Testament again until Psalm 110, a psalm of David. The opening verse, “The LORD says to my Lord: ‘Sit at my right hand, until I make your enemies your footstool,’” is the most frequently quoted Old Testament passage in the New Testament. Jesus applies it to himself (Mt. 22:41-45; Mk. 12:35-37; Lk. 20:41-44) and it is later cited by Peter (Acts 2:34-35), Paul (1 Cor. 15:25) and the Hebrew writer (Heb. 1:13; 10:12-13) to affirm Jesus’ exalted authority.

In the psalm, David recounts a vision of God speaking to David’s “Lord”—a messianic figure greater than David himself—appointing him to rule as king and serve as “priest forever after the order of Melchizedek” (4). When David conquered Jerusalem, he sat on Melchizedek’s throne, but as a descendent of Judah, he could not serve as priest under Mosaic Law. Therefore, the psalm looks beyond David to a future descendent—a royal priest not from the line of Levi, but from the mysterious order of Melchizedek. This uniquely positions the Messiah as both king and priest, anticipating the role that Jesus would fill.

Hebrews 5-7 — Hebrews explains all this for us. The main theme of the book is that Jesus is “greater.” He is greater than the prophets (1:1-2), the angels (1:4-14; 2:5-18), Moses (3:1-6), Joshua (4:1-11) and his priesthood is greater than Levi’s (4:14-10). The writer begins to emphasize the contrast between the priesthood of Levi and the priesthood of Jesus “according to the order of Melchizedek” (5:6-10). However, the writer suddenly stops his flow of thought to rebuke his audience for not being spiritually mature enough to understand about Melchizedek (5:11-6:12). In 6:13, writing about God’s faithfulness, he revisits the subject. We can trust God to keep his promises because Jesus has gone into heaven “as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek” (6:20). Why does it matter that Jesus is of “the order of Melchizedek”?

1. Melchizedek’s priesthood brings righteousness and peace (7:2; cf. Gen. 14:17), two blessings we need from God that the Levitical priesthood could not supply.
2. His priesthood is without beginning or end (7:3). “He is without father or mother or genealogy, having neither beginning of days nor end of life, but resembling the Son of God he continues a priest forever.” The author is not suggesting that Melchizedek is eternal, but that he appeared out of nowhere. No genealogy, such as was required for the Levitical priests under Mosaic Law, is given for him. He suddenly breaks into the story from the outside (no “beginning of days”) and he never explicitly goes away (no “end of life”). In these mysterious ways, Melchizedek resembles Jesus.
3. His priesthood is superior to the Levitical priesthood (7:4-10). The writer deduces that the Levitical priesthood, deriving from a descendent of Abraham, is inferior to Melchizedek’s priesthood because of Abraham’s actions in Genesis 14. Though Levi had not yet been born, he was still “in the loins” of Abraham when Abraham gave Melchizedek a tenth of the spoils and received a blessing from him. Therefore, Levi—through Abraham—acknowledged the superiority of Melchizedek, since the lesser is blessed by the greater.
4. His priesthood is eternal and permanent (7:11-28). Unlike the Levitical priesthood—which was temporary and marked by a succession of mortal, morally imperfect priests who continually offered sacrifices—Jesus’ priesthood is eternal because it is grounded in “the power of an indestructible life” (16). He does not pass on his role to another because he lives forever, and his priesthood never ends. Through him, God has established a better covenant, built on lasting promises. Jesus continually intercedes for us, and he has offered a once-for-all sacrifice that fully and finally atones for our sin.

Melchizedek matters because of the great priest-king he foreshadows. Jesus is eternal, holy and able to save completely those who draw near to God through him.

Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the east came to Jerusalem saying, “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.”

Matthew 2:1-2

“We three kings of Orient are.” The opening line of the popular carol assumes that there were three individuals and that they were kings. However, Matthew tells us only that three gifts were presented; it does not specify how many people brought them. Furthermore, Matthew describes the visitors as “magi”—a Latin word derived from Old Persian via Greek, which means “magicians” or “wise men,” not kings. The idea that they were kings likely stems from an effort to connect Matthew’s account with certain Messianic prophecies. Psalm 72:10–11 speaks of “kings” bringing gifts to the Messiah (although it mentions them coming from Tarshish, which is to the west). Isaiah 60:6 specifies gifts of gold and frankincense being brought by Gentiles on “camels," which explains the familiar image on Christmas cards of the magi silhouetted against the desert, riding camels across sand dunes.

Matthew doesn’t tell us much about these figures. They were likely pagan astronomer-astrologers—in those days, there was no distinction between observing the heavens and interpreting them—who came “from the east.” These “wise men" correctly interpreted a bright object in the sky (the term “star” could refer to a comet, planetary alignment or some other astronomical phenomena) as signaling the birth of a new “king of the Jews.” Motivated by this sign, they traveled a great distance to pay homage and present gifts to this king (Mt. 2:1–12). Beyond the biblical text, we enter the realm of speculation. While we can make a few educated guesses, we must remember that if the identity and background of the magi were essential, Matthew would have provided more detail.

In ancient Mesopotamia, it was believed that the gods communicated to kings through signs in the heavens. Diviners were scholars who identified and interpreted these signs from a list of omens. The most important of these is the Enuma Anu Enlil (~1500-1000 BC), a collection of about seventy tablets, which diviners used to counsel kings about the future. If the omens were bad, they performed rituals to avert the danger. This kind of celestial divination was especially popular in Babylon when Daniel served as the “chief of the magicians, enchanters, Chaldeans, and astrologers” (Dan. 5:11), but later Persian and Greek rulers sometimes consulted Babylonian astrologers.

For example, Diodorus of Sicily (1st century AD) reports that the Chaldeans predicted Alexander the Great’s victory over Darius of Persia (Library of History, 2.31). While the text doesn’t specify what led to this prediction, a lunar eclipse was visible in Babylon on September 21, 331 BC—just ten days before the decisive Battle of Gaugamela. The Greek historian Arrian of Nicomedia (AD 86-160) corroborates this and also records that a delegation of Babylonians met Alexander with gifts and offered to surrender the city to him (Anabasis of Alexander, 3.16.3). The Roman historian Quintus Curtius Rufus (c. AD 50) describes Alexander’s triumphal entry into Babylon, with roads strewn with flowers and lined with silver altars burning frankincense and other perfumes. He notes that Alexander was met first with gifts, then magi, and then Chaldeans (History of Alexander, 5.19-22). According to Diodorus, eight years later, in 323 BC, Babylonian diviners predicted Alexander’s death by interpreting celestial signs (Library of History, 17.112).

The Enuma Anu Enlil omen list also contains predictions about the coming of a “king of the world.” One such prediction appears in a commentary on Tablet 7, which reads: “Sin [the moon god], (if) during his rising one star proceeds behind him: a king of the world (šar kiššati) will rise, but he will not become old.” This text predates Alexander the Great, who is also referred to as šar kiššati (“king of the world”) in an astronomical diary from 331 BC. However, we do not know whether this omen was ever interpreted in reference to him.

Could Matthew’s “wise men” have drawn from such a text to interpret Jesus as the “king of the Jews”? If so, how did an entry like this find its way into the omen lists? Was it perhaps planted there by Daniel generations before? Could it have been influenced by the prophetic words of the ancient pagan diviner Balaam, who declared, “A star will come from Jacob, and a scepter will arise out of Israel” (Num. 24:17)? Did they hear stories of the coming “king of the Jews” from Israelite exiles? Were Matthew’s magi from Babylon or somewhere else?

All of this is speculative—interesting to consider in light of Jesus who is “the bright morning star” (Rev. 22:16). Asking such questions can be thought-provoking, but when we lack solid evidence, speculation is often unhelpful and can even become dangerous if our imaginations are not well-disciplined.

We also face a theological tension when we remember that practices like divination and interpreting omens are explicitly forbidden in the Torah (Deut. 18:9–14). Ancient Israelites would have considered such astrologers as deluded and foolish (Isa. 44:24-25; 47:13-14). Yet this very tension may highlight the grace and wisdom of God—that he chose to communicate truth to pagan Gentiles in a way they could understand, even while they were engaged in practices condemned by the Torah.

Matthew clearly presents the magi in a positive light, especially when contrasted with Herod and the religious leaders in Jerusalem who knew the correct prophecy regarding the Messiah’s birthplace (Mt. 2:4–6; cf. Mic. 5:2). While they responded with indifference and fear (“troubled”), the magi responded with joy, traveling a great distance and acting on the limited revelation they had. They humbled themselves before Christ (Mt. 2:11a) and honored him with their wealth (2:11b; cf. Isa. 60:1-7). In this way, the true “King of the world” was welcomed not only by ordinary Jews like shepherds (Lk. 2:8–20) but also by extraordinary Gentiles like these “wise men” (Mt. 2:10–11). Indeed, the Gospel is for all!

“While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.”

Genesis 8:22

The changing of the seasons reminds us of God’s power, faithfulness and wisdom. The cycles of nature—fixed and sustained by his hand—each carry a unique beauty. The cold darkness of winter inevitably gives way to the light and warmth of spring, and anticipating that change is itself an act of faith in our Creator. Yet while there is beauty in this constant movement, there is also a kind of tyranny. We experience seasons in life as well—youth, early adulthood, middle age and old age. Each season brings its own blessings, yet each is mingled with frustration. Teenagers long for the freedom of responsibility, while adults long for freedom from responsibility. The old lack the energy of youth, while the young lack the wisdom of old age. In Ecclesiastes 3, the Preacher poetically describes this ebb and flow of life—sometimes gentle, sometimes violent—as we are carried from one moment to its opposite and back again. He presents this rhythm of change as both beautiful and burdensome, a reality we must face with faith.

The tyranny of change (Ecc. 3:1-8) — Change is necessary and good. No one wants a perpetual spring (“a time to plant”) without a harvest (“a time to pluck up what is planted”). Even the negative and tragic seasons of life (“a time to die… kill… weep… mourn… lose… refrain… hate… war”) give beauty and perspective to their opposites if viewed with the right mindset. Yet when we seek permanence and purpose in life, this constant movement can feel oppressive. The Preacher’s famous list in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 reflects life’s unrelenting rhythm: birth and death, planting and uprooting, war and peace. We often find ourselves swept along by events we cannot control, dancing to a tune not of our own making.

No season lasts forever. Whatever we pursue in one season—finding a marriage partner, growing a family, advancing a career, investing in our health, acquiring possessions—does not last into the next season unchanged. Whatever we pursue will eventually give way to its opposite. Sometimes, we may throw ourselves into a meaningful pursuit only to be forced by life’s circumstances to abandon it. The repetition of “a time for this and a time for that” can feel like a burden. Our plans are often at the mercy of forces beyond us.

We’ve all said, “Who would have imagined I’d end up here, doing this?” The peace-loving nation is forced into war (8); the shepherd slaughters the lamb he once nursed back to health (3); the collector sells the treasures he once sought (6); friendships end into bitter conflict (8); the need to keep silent gives way to the need to speak up (7). Life under the sun is full of these unexpected turns, where change not only shapes our days but seems to tyrannically rule over them.

The beauty of change (Ecc. 3:9-15) — Faced with constant change, our natural response may be frustration or despair (9-10). But the Preacher challenges us to see change not as chaos, but as something beautiful—a divine pattern woven by God’s hand (11). We long to understand God’s plan, to see how each moment fits into the whole. Yet our struggle is not with change itself, but with our limited vision. We see only fragments of life’s intricate design, unable to grasp how each season contributes to God’s grand masterpiece.

Rather than offering frozen perfection, God gives us something better: a dynamic, kaleidoscopic mystery. Each season has its own time to blossom and bear fruit, and each is “beautiful in its time” (11a). We catch glimpses of this beauty, even in hardship, but we can’t see the full picture “from beginning to end” (11b) as God does. God has placed “eternity” in our hearts—a longing to understand the lasting purpose behind life’s fleeting moments—but we are not meant to figure it all out (“he cannot find out what God has done”). Like standing too close to a giant painting, we can sense its quality and design, but only God sees the whole.

The faithful response is not despair, but trust. While life’s mysteries may trouble the unbeliever, the believer finds joy in God’s gifts (12-13). We embrace our time under the sun as a gift and do good with what we’ve been given, knowing all our blessings are from God’s hand. Even though our work is temporary, God’s work endures forever (14). We often strive for a legacy, but only by submitting to God’s will can we become part of his eternal masterpiece (Eph. 2:10; Rev. 14:13).

God’s control over life’s seasons is not oppressive, but comforting. Nothing is wasted or forgotten; all is known to him. History is not just an endless cycle (1:9); it is God’s story, unfolding according to his purpose. What is past, he will call to account (15), and what seems random or lost, he will bring to light. For the person of faith, this truth anchors us: life is not meaningless motion, but calculated movement toward God’s eternal purpose (Rom. 8:28-30).

The permanence of Christ — We often long for stability in a world that constantly shifts around us. But in the midst of life’s disruptions, we find peace in the unchanging nature of Jesus Christ, who is “the same yesterday, today, and forever” (Heb. 13:8). Though the seasons of life move beyond our control, they are never beyond his. Change is not random, and it is never wasted. When anchored to Christ (Heb. 6:19), even the most unsettling moments become part of a greater story—a story of grace, transformation and eternal purpose.

As we walk through the changing seasons of life, may we do so with faith—not just enduring the shifts, but trusting the One who orders them. For in the end, change itself is not our enemy, but often the very means by which God makes us more like Christ (Rom. 8:28-30).

And Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man.

Luke 2:52

In Luke’s Gospel account, he tells of the birth and infancy of Jesus, then fast-forwards to a story when Jesus was twelve years old (2:41-51). In chapter 3, Luke time-warps again to tell us of Jesus’ ministry when he “was about thirty years of age” (3:23). All he provides of the life of Christ in the interim is a one-verse summary reporting that he “increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man” (2:52). The Bible gives us no other details about this time.

These “lost years” of Jesus have caused some wild and, more often than not, conflicting speculation. In the decades and centuries following Jesus’ earthly ministry, many texts were written attempting to fill in that large gap. The so-called “infancy gospels,” written in the 2nd to 3rd centuries, include sensationalized stories about the boy Jesus doing miracles: chastising his schoolteachers; bumping into kids while playing, then striking them dead only to raise them up again; shaping clay birds, then making them come to life, etc. Examples are the Gospel of James, the Infancy Gospel of Thomas, and the Arabic Infancy Gospel.

These texts were written long after the 1st century by cultish groups who broke from Christian doctrine. While these stories are interesting, they are not historically reliable. The earliest sources report that the people from Jesus’ hometown of Nazareth were surprised when he began to do miracles (Mt. 13:54-58; Mk. 6:1-6) and rejected him (Lk. 4:16-30). If Jesus were doing regular miracles as a boy, why would the villagers be surprised by Jesus’ supernatural abilities as an adult? There is no merit to the fanciful stories of the “infancy gospels.”

One of the more popular stories claims that teenage Jesus traveled to India and was influenced by the teachings of Buddhism and Hinduism. This theory of his supposed pilgrimage to the East was popularized by a Russian journalist from the 19th century named Nicolas Notovitch. He claimed to have found a Tibetan text called The Life of Saint Issa in a Buddhist monastery which recorded Jesus’ journey to India, then further east to Nepal, to study with Buddhist monks and Hindus before returning to Judea. Then, in 1894, he published his claims in a book entitled The Unknown Life of Jesus Christ.

Is there any merit to Notovitch’s claim? In short, no, and here’s why.

First, consider the distance covered. From Galilee to Nepal is about 4,000 miles as the crow flies. However, for a poor Jewish peasant traveling on foot in the 1st century, navigating river crossings and mountain passes, the journey would have been considerably longer. Such a voyage is possible but not probable. According to Notovitch’s claim, Jesus would have traveled farther east than even Alexander the Great during his conquests 400 years earlier.

Second, listen closely to Jesus’ teaching. They were deeply rooted in Jewish monotheism and contrast with Eastern worldviews in several important ways. He taught that there was one, transcendent, relational Being who is distinct from the universe he created. Eastern religions, such as Hinduism, embrace polytheism (the belief in many gods) or pantheism (the belief that God is identical to the universe). Buddhism focuses on discovering the true nature of reality (that “self” is an illusion) through enlightenment. Christ taught that God is the foundation for all reality, being the Creator and Author of life, and that ‘enlightenment’ only comes through a relationship with him (Mt. 22:37-38). Spiritual liberation in Eastern religions (achieving nirvana in Buddhism, cessation from suffering; achieving moksha in Hinduism, escaping the cycle of karma) comes through self-effort. In contrast, Jesus taught that spiritual liberation (forgiveness of sins, receiving eternal life) is a divine gift of grace that can never be earned. Jesus’ central message, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe the gospel” (Mk. 1:15), would have made no sense to Eastern mystics.

Third, look deeper into Notovitch’s claims. Digging deeper into Notovitch’s claims reveals that they were a hoax. Shortly after Notovitch published his findings in The Unknown Life of Christ, Lama Lobsang, the head of the Hemis Monastery in Ladakh, where he claimed to have found the ancient Tibetan manuscript chronicling Jesus’ journey to the East, publicly stated that no Russian had ever visited the monastery and that no such writing on ‘Saint Issa’ existed there. Once scholars exposed Notovitch, who, by this time, had gained a good deal of wealth and notoriety through his claims, he confessed to fabricating the whole thing.

Despite all the evidence against Notovitch’s claim, it still makes the rounds in shallow documentaries (ahem—National Geographic, we’re looking at you!) and poorly researched articles. Why do people hold any regard for this myth? I suppose we’re enamored with the idea of secret knowledge, that the tradition view is always the wrong view, that “the truth” is being kept from us. There is something mysteriously attractive about uncovering hidden conspiracies, but in this case, the only conspiracy was Notovitch’s.

A question worth asking is, why is Jesus’ childhood largely undocumented in the Gospels? Mathew, Mark, Luke, and John were not simply negligent biographers. Rather, they wrote with a specific goal in mind. Though their writings are historical and report events that occurred, their primary goal was to elicit faith (Jn. 20:30-3; Lk. 1:1-4), not catalogue a full history of Jesus’ life. It’s not that Jesus’ childhood was unimportant, but that it must not have contributed to that goal. So they focused instead on the adult ministry of Jesus. Christ came to establish God’s kingdom. The authors record everything we need to enter into that kingdom.