Promise became personal
When the News of Jesus Interrupts Your Plans
Every December, we set up our nativity scenes and sing the same familiar carols. Angels, a manger, some shepherds, maybe a few wise men who definitely showed up way later than our coffee table suggests.
It’s beautiful and nostalgic—but if we zoom in only on the stable, we can miss something important:
The Christmas story is also a story about how very human people responded to Jesus.
Last week we talked about how the Christmas story didn’t begin with a baby in a manger. It began “in the beginning” with a God who refused to leave us in our brokenness and set a rescue plan in motion.
This week, I want to look at what happened when that plan started getting real.
When the news of Jesus moved from prophecy and promises… to pregnancy, disrupted plans, and actual crying babies.
Because the way they responded to Jesus has a lot to show us about the way we respond to Him too.
Mary: Favored… But Not Comfortable
When the angel shows up to Mary, his first words are:
“Greetings, favored woman. The Lord is with you.”
I don’t know about you, but when I hear “favored,” I think:
Stable income
Comfortable life
Everything working out in a way that looks Instagrammable
Mary’s reality?
Teenage girl.
Very little social power.
Likely living in poverty.
Engaged, but not yet married.
“Highly favored” did not mean highly comfortable.
When Gabriel tells her she’ll carry the Messiah, her first response is wonderfully human:
“But how can this be? I am a virgin.”
She’s not being dramatic. She’s being honest. What God is saying doesn’t fit anything she’s ever seen or experienced. It doesn’t line up with how the world works.
And I love that Scripture lets us see this, because it reminds us:
It is okay to have questions.
Honest confusion is not the opposite of faith.
You can say, “God, I don’t understand how this could possibly work,” and still be open to what He’s doing.
Gabriel answers her question and points to the work of the Holy Spirit. He reminds her that the same God who overshadowed His people in the wilderness is the one who will overshadow her.
And then Mary lands here:
“I am the Lord’s servant. May everything you have said about me come true.”
A trembling yes.
Faith in the middle of very real fear and very real consequences.
Mary shows us that you can be confused and scared, and still say yes.
Faith doesn’t mean you aren’t afraid. Faith means you trust God more than your fear.
Joseph: Letting Go of a “Good” Plan
Joseph does not get enough credit in the Christmas story.
Scripture calls him a righteous man—and that’s a big deal. Very few people get that title. Joseph isn’t just “a decent guy.” He’s the kind of man who actually lives out what he believes.
When he finds out Mary is pregnant, he does what seems wise and kind in that cultural moment: he decides to quietly end the engagement instead of publicly shaming her. It’s respectable. It’s reasonable. It’s a good plan.
Then God interrupts.
An angel appears to Joseph in a dream and says:
“Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child within her was conceived by the Holy Spirit.”
In other words:
“Joseph, I know you had a plan. I know it seemed right.
But I’m doing something bigger than what you can see.”
And Joseph… obeys.
He lets go of his “good” plan to hold onto God’s plan.
He steps into:
Social misunderstanding
Awkward conversations
A life that now looks very different than the one he’d pictured
Joseph reminds us that faithfulness sometimes means releasing what feels safe and respectable in order to follow God into the unknown.
And here’s the kicker: Joseph doesn’t get to see the end of the story the way Mary does. He likely dies before Jesus’ public ministry ever begins.
He is faithful… without seeing all the results.
That hits me, because so often my prayer sounds like:
“Lord, I’ll step out if you’ll show me how this ends.”
Joseph shows us another way:
Obey now. Trust God with the results.
Zechariah: When You’ve Been Faithful… and You Still Doubt
Zechariah was a priest.
He knew the Scriptures.
He served in the temple.
He likely had more Bible knowledge than most of the people around him.
And yet—when the angel tells him he and Elizabeth will finally have a child, his response sounds different from Mary’s.
Mary says,
“How can this be?”
Zechariah says,
“How can I be sure this will happen?”
Do you see the difference?
Mary is asking, “How in the world will this work?”
Zechariah is asking, “How do I know I can trust you?”
It’s skepticism.
It’s weariness.
It’s the tired, battle-scarred version of doubt that comes after years of disappointment.
And honestly… it’s relatable.
He’s seen how life works. He’s watched prayers go seemingly unanswered. He and Elizabeth have carried the ache of childlessness for a long, long time. Now an angel is standing in front of him saying, “It’s finally happening,” and he basically says, “Prove it.”
Because of his distrust, Zechariah is made mute until the baby is born. It’s a consequence, yes—but it’s also a strange gift. A forced season of silence. A stretch of time where all he can do is watch God keep His word.
And sure enough, when John is finally born, we find Zechariah overflowing with prophetic faith and praise.
His story whispers this to us:
You can know a lot about God and still struggle to trust Him.
Seasons of silence and waiting can become places where your faith grows deeper, not disappears.
Past doubt does not disqualify you from future usefulness.
If you’ve ever asked for “proof” from God, you’re in good company. Zechariah’s story is written right into the Christmas narrative.
Elizabeth: Celebrating God’s Work in Someone Else
Elizabeth has her own long story of disappointment and waiting. And yet, when Mary walks through her door carrying the Messiah, Elizabeth’s response is pure joy.
Her baby leaps in her womb.
She is filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaims:
“You are blessed because you believed that the Lord would do what he said.”
Elizabeth is finally experiencing her own miracle—and still, she celebrates Mary’s.
No comparison.
No “Why her and not me?”
No subtle distance to protect herself.
Just joy and encouragement.
Elizabeth models a response we often overlook:
Recognizing and calling out God’s work in someone else’s life.
Sometimes following Jesus looks like:
Naming the faith you see in your friend
Celebrating someone else’s answered prayer, even when you’re still waiting on your own
Saying, “I see what God is doing in you, and it’s beautiful.”
That, too, is a response to Jesus.
The Shepherds and the Magi: Unlikely Candidates
Then we meet two very unexpected groups:
The shepherds
Outsiders. Not trusted as witnesses in court. Pushed to the margins of community. And yet—they’re the first ones God invites to go and see Jesus.
The magi
Foreigners. Different faith background. People who notice a sign and travel a long, long way to meet a king who isn’t “theirs,” at least not in the way they’d been raised.
Both groups could have talked themselves out of going.
The shepherds could have thought,
“No one believes us anyway.”
The magi could have thought,
“Did we read this wrong? Is this trip worth it?”
But they go.
They show up.
They lean toward Jesus instead of away from Him.
Their part in the story is a reminder that:
You’re never “too unlikely” for Jesus.
Feeling out of place, underqualified, or late to the party doesn’t disqualify you from drawing near.
God loves to invite people the world ignores or underestimates.
If you’ve ever thought, “Church isn’t really for people like me,” or “I don’t know enough to belong,” please hear this:
God is in the business of bringing unlikely people close.
Herod: When Control Matters More Than Christ
And then… there’s Herod.
Herod knew the prophecies. As a Jewish ruler, he should have been waiting for the Messiah. But instead of welcoming Jesus, he feels threatened by Him.
His response?
Manipulation
Violence
Doing whatever it takes to protect his own power
Herod is the tragic picture of someone who will not allow God to interrupt his plans. He clings so tightly to his control that he misses the best news in the world.
Most of us will never go to Herod-level extremes (thank God), but the same root temptation lives in us:
“I want Jesus… as long as He doesn’t touch my comfort, my plans, my image, my control.”
Herod’s story is a sobering mirror:
Where am I resisting Jesus because I don’t want to be interrupted?
Where am I protecting my preferences instead of surrendering to His leadership?
So… How Are You Responding to Jesus This Christmas?
When you look at these stories side by side, you get a whole spectrum of responses:
Mary – Honest questions and a trembling “yes”
Joseph – Laying down a good plan to follow God’s better one
Zechariah – Doubt and skepticism, followed by growing faith
Elizabeth – Joyfully calling out God’s work in someone else
Shepherds & Magi – Unlikely people who still show up
Herod – Clinging to control and refusing to be interrupted
The question underneath all of this is simple… but not easy:
How am I actually responding to Jesus right now?
Not just to the carols or the candles or the cozy Christmas feelings—but to Him.
Is there a place where I’m asking honest questions like Mary?
Is there a “good plan” I need to lay down like Joseph?
Are there parts of me that sound more like Zechariah—needing proof, tired of waiting?
Is there someone whose faith I need to affirm, like Elizabeth did for Mary?
Do I feel like an outsider God could never really use—and need to remember the shepherds and the magi?
Or do I see any Herod-like places in my heart where I’m clinging to control?
The good news of the Christmas story is this:
God meets us exactly where we are—
in our questions, in our doubts, in our resistance, and in our trembling yeses.
He doesn’t wait for us to clean ourselves up or respond perfectly.
He comes near. He invites. He interrupts.
And He walks with us as we learn, one step at a time, how to say, “I am Yours. I trust You… even here.”
A Simple Next Step for This Week
If you want something practical to carry into the week, try this:
Pick one character from this story that you relate to the most right now.
Write a short prayer that begins, “Jesus, I feel a lot like ______ because ______. Meet me here and help me respond to You with… (trust / courage / honesty / surrender).”
And if you’d like daily, bite-sized encouragement as you walk this out, I’m sharing 90-second Christmas devotionals each day on social. They’re meant to interrupt your scroll the way the Christmas story interrupts our “normal” and gently turn your attention back to Jesus. (Social links are at bottom of page!)
However you’re coming into this season—full of faith, full of questions, or somewhere in between—He sees you. And He’s still Emmanuel.
God with us. God with you.
