Give Me Your Hand

Excerpt of “Give Me Your Hand,” preached on December 21, 2025

Matthew 1:18-25 | Isaiah 41:5-10

Commitment, it’s a word that not only has weight, but carries a bit of a punch to it. It’s a word some generations take pretty lightly and others view it with the highest regard.  The word commitment is not used in either of our passages this morning.  However, I think it is the one word that could easily summarize both, for it’s at the very heart of it all.

The unique thing about the gospel of Matthew is that not only does it begin with genealogy — the thing most people would prefer to skip right over — the verse that bridges Christ’s genealogy is Matthew 1:17 which reads, “Thus there were fourteen generations in all from Abraham to David, fourteen from David to the exile to Babylon, and fourteen from the exile to the Messiah.”  Ensuring us that Jesus’ birth was perfectly timed.  And then the very next thing that the gospel writer does is not to talk about Zechariah or Elizabeth, nor John the Baptist or even Mary.  Instead, the focus is on Joseph.

It sets the stage with another angel — with the similar refrain of “Do not be afraid” — but the purpose is different; the tone of the angel is different. It’s more direct: “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife.”  It was spoken with the power of using his name — Joseph son of David.  Perhaps that’s why Matthew begins with genealogy, because the angel began with genealogy that gives the narrative forward momentum and shifts to legacy.  And Joseph has a part in this story.

Matthew 1:19 explains, “Because Joseph, her husband, was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.”  What’s interesting is that we enter the gospel of Matthew where things appear to be already in place.  Joseph is not referred to as her fiancé, but husband.  There’s no more waiting, but doubt and even skepticism is not only present — it’s prevalent.  So much so that in order to protect her from public humiliation, the best solution in Joseph’s mind would be a quiet divorce.

He could not handle the pressure, the uncertainty, the many questions of his own, and he was scared.  This wasn’t just a scandalous pregnancy, it was a dangerous one.  If the public shame was not enough, Mary could have been stoned to death because of this.  Yet, God knew what he was feeling and intervened with the angel speaking life into him directly and effectively.  He needed that because the stakes were great, the odds were stacked against him, and I’m sure he felt as if the walls were closing in on him.

Yet, Joseph’s perspective changed after the visit from the angel, giving him not only purpose, but a responsibility.  “When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him.”  Joseph’s commitment to raise Jesus as his own son was taken seriously — teaching him a trade, providing for them, protecting him enough to go to Egypt to escape Herod’s persecution.  This was no small task and Joseph did it with his entire being.  And Joseph didn’t make grand gestures of his commitment; he did it largely in the background.  Joseph had a renewed sense of commitment because he was honest with his fear.

The way forward is not to traverse the journey alone, but in community. And that’s where Isaiah helps us.  The prophet Isaiah gives us this image of islands — those pieces of land that are similar but are completely separate and cut off from one another.  The islands are fearful. And so what do they do? They find a way to come forward together: “They help each other and say to their companions, ‘Be strong!’”  It’s such a beautiful way of understanding the diversity and significance of everyone — each role is vital to the overall success.  The thing I love most about this passage is that it begins with fear and ends with community.

Isaiah explains this with verse 10: “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.”  It’s not a command that is shouted from a distance, but a promise that is spoken up close.

And then the prophecy is fulfilled through Christ incarnate. Jesus comes and refuses to let that promise stay abstract.  Jesus entered the world through this fragile and vulnerable way and through a couple who had no idea how things would unfold.  From the very start, the shadow of the cross stretches all the way back to the manger.  God’s commitment does not weaken over time — it is complete from the moment Christ enters the world.

The question for us is, are we committed in our doubts, in our questioning, and even in our fear?  Joseph didn’t know how the story would unfold.  What he knew was that God had spoken, and that somehow staying close was better than walking away.  And that’s often where faith begins — not with certainty, but with trust.  Not with answers, but with presence.

Faith is choosing who we reach for when fear shows up.  And we don’t reach alone. God does not scold fear; God responds to it. God does not abandon the frightened; God draws near.  And in Jesus, God comes close enough to be touched.

When we are afraid of the road ahead, when commitment feels costly, when doubt creeps in quietly, the answer is not found in isolation.  The answer is proximity.  Walking together and giving one another permission to be honest about fear while still choosing faith.  So when you’re afraid, give me your hand.

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