Three Gifts
My favorite part of the Christmas story doesn’t even happen at Christmas
We put the wise men in the nativity scene, but historically they were never there that night.
Jesus is already a child, probably a toddler, when they arrive. It could be months later. It could be close to two years later. And there were not three of them. That number comes from the three gifts, not the number of people. What likely showed up was a delegation: magi, guards, servants, animals, supplies. Enough people to draw attention.
This matters, because the story is far bigger and far more unsettling than the version we usually tell.
Who were the Magi, really?
These were not kings with crowns or mystical wanderers following vibes and starlight. They were magi, a class of priests, scholars, and political advisors, most likely from the Parthian Empire. Think modern-day Iraq and Iran.
They represented a neighboring superpower that had a long, violent history with Rome. They were educated, wealthy, and dangerous to ignore.
So how did they know anything about a Jewish Messiah?
The most likely explanation goes back centuries earlier, to Daniel.
When Israel was taken into exile in Babylon, Daniel and a handful of other Israelites were placed in positions of authority over the empire’s wise men. Daniel did not convert them to Judaism, but he unmistakably left an imprint. Hebrew theology and prophecy entered that intellectual world and stayed there.
So mixed into their religious system were fragments of Hebrew prophecy: promises that the God of Israel would one day intervene in history, send a king, rescue His people from sin, and establish an eternal kingdom.
Somehow, they recognized that moment had arrived.
And about a year or so after Christmas, they showed up to worship a child they understood better than almost anyone else.
A political nightmare named Jesus
Matthew tells the story this way:
Matthew 2:1–2 (ESV)
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.”
We read that and imagine a sweet scene.
That is not what happened.
These men were representatives of a rival empire asking about a newborn king. And that phrase matters: king of the Jews.
Thirty years earlier, the Parthians had conquered this region by installing a puppet king. Herod later reconquered it with Roman backing. Rome granted him a brand-new title that had never existed before: King of the Jews.
Now representatives of the empire that had conquered the region once before show up asking where the newly born King of the Jews is, and they brought gifts.
Herod does not hear “baby shower.”
He hears “coup.”
Why everyone was afraid
Matthew continues:
Matthew 2:3–4 (ESV)
When Herod the king heard this, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him, and assembling all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Christ was to be born.
This should have been a moment of celebration. The Messiah Israel had waited for was here.
Instead, everyone was afraid.
Herod had ruled for thirty years, but that was not enough time for people to forget what two wars of conquest felt like in less than a generation. They might hate Herod. They might resent Rome. But they desperately did not want another war.
So the city trembles.
The religious leaders answer Herod from the prophet Micah. The Messiah would be born in Bethlehem.
That alone is remarkable. Joseph and Mary lived on the opposite side of the country. Jesus was born in Bethlehem only because the government forced them to travel there while Mary was heavily pregnant.
God used bureaucracy to fulfill prophecy.
Herod lies, the Magi move
Herod secretly questions the Magi about the timing of the star, then sends them on their way.
Matthew 2:7–8 (ESV)
Then Herod summoned the wise men secretly and ascertained from them what time the star had appeared. And he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child, and when you have found him, bring me word, that I too may come and worship him.”
Herod is lying. The Magi likely know it. But they cooperate, probably to avoid an international incident.
They head south. They find the child.
Bethlehem, incidentally, means house of bread. A fitting place for the Bread of Life to be revealed.
Worship, not sentiment
Matthew describes the moment this way:
Matthew 2:11–12 (ESV)
And going into the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh.
Jesus is not a newborn. He is a child.
They worship Him. Not Mary. Him.
Then they present gifts that make no sense for a baby, but make perfect sense for who they believe He is.
Afterward, warned in a dream, they return home by another route. That is not easy. There is a desert involved. Travel routes are limited. But they obey.
This story ends darkly. Herod fulfills Jeremiah 31 by killing the boys of Bethlehem. Mary and Joseph flee to Egypt for a time.
But Matthew draws our attention to the gifts.
Because they matter.
Gold: a king has arrived
In the ancient world, diplomatic delegations did not show up empty-handed. And when they acknowledged a king, the primary gift was gold.
Gold was rare, valuable, and unmistakably royal.
The Magi likely understood the Messiah to be a king because Scripture is clear about that.
Isaiah 9:6–7 (ESV)
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder… Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom.
This was not a temporary ruler. This was God’s promised King. A king whose reign would never end.
Gold made sense.
Frankincense: this child is worthy of worship
Frankincense was used daily in the temple. It represented prayer rising before God.
To offer it to a child was not polite. It was worship.
Isaiah had envisioned this moment:
Isaiah 60:6 (ESV)
They shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall bring good news, the praises of the LORD.
These Gentile scholars did what many in Israel did not. They recognized that this child was worthy of worship.
Myrrh: the strangest gift of all
Myrrh is a burial spice.
You can use it for other things, but that is what it is for. It is like bringing olive oil. You know what the giver means.
Why bring myrrh to a child?
Because Scripture said the Messiah would die.
Isaiah 53:7–9 (ESV)
He was oppressed, and he was afflicted… he was cut off out of the land of the living… and they made his grave with the wicked and with a rich man in his death.
The Magi saw what many scholars missed. The Messiah would be king and priest and God, but also sacrifice.
They did not know everything.
They knew about Good Friday.
They did not yet know about Easter.
Isaiah did.
Isaiah 53:10–11 (ESV)
He shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days… Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied.
Death would not be the end.
Resurrection was always part of the promise
Isaiah did not just speak about the Messiah’s suffering and death. He also spoke about resurrection.
Isaiah 26:19 (ESV)
“Your dead shall live; their bodies shall rise.
You who dwell in the dust, awake and sing for joy!
For your dew is a dew of light,
and the earth will give birth to the dead.”
Death was never the end of the story. God’s plan was not simply forgiveness through sacrifice, but life through resurrection.
That is why Isaiah 53 does not end with a grave.
Isaiah 53:10–11 (ESV)
“He shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days… Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied.”
The Messiah would die, but He would also live again. He would see the results of His sacrifice. He would be satisfied because His work succeeded.
The Magi brought myrrh because death was coming.
But resurrection was coming too.
What the Magi missed, and what we still miss
These men recognized Jesus as King, God, and sacrifice.
But they missed something we still miss.
Knowing about Him is not the same as needing Him.
You can obey Him as King.
You can worship Him.
You can even appreciate the cross.
And still miss the point.
If you do not understand that you are hopeless without His sacrifice, that without His resurrection you have nothing, then you have missed everything.
Jesus is not just a baby, or a teacher, or a moral guide.
He is rescue.
And Christmas only makes sense if you know why He came, what it cost, and what He conquered.
The real Christmas question
It is good to worship Jesus at Christmas.
It is good to sing, give, and pray.
But none of that matters if you miss the most important question.
Who is Jesus to you?
A baby?
A king?
God?
Or your only hope?
