Read A voice cries: “In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD; make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.” (Isa. 40:3–4) Reflect It was said of Queen Elizabeth II that she must have thought the whole world smelled of fresh paint. When a monarch comes to visit, people prepare. The crack in the sidewalk that pedestrians have stumbled over for years will be smoothed and the potholes filled. It’s not that the queen had more trouble walking than commoners or that a Rolls-Royce couldn’t handle potholes. Rather, preparation is a way to show honor. In the Gospels, we learn that the messenger prophesied by Isaiah, sent by God to prepare the way for the King of kings, was John the Baptist. John’s preparation didn’t involve any of the external sprucing up one would expect for a monarch’s visit. Instead, he preached repentance for the forgiveness of sins. People who heard him were moved to confess their sins and be baptized. His message prepared their hearts, not their outward appearances. When a monarch comes to visit, people prepare. Preparation is a way to show honor. The season of Advent helps us remember that not only has the Messiah come but he will come again. In his last recorded words, Jesus said, “Surely I am coming soon” (Rev. 22:20). We don’t know the day or the hour, but we need to be prepared. So how should we prepare ourselves for Christ’s return? John the Baptist’s call to repentance and forgiveness is still valid today as we wait for Jesus’s second coming: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matt. 3:2). Yet repentance isn’t easy. C. S. Lewis writes, Fallen man is not simply an imperfect creature who needs improvement: he is a rebel who must lay down his arms. Laying down your arms, surrendering, saying you are sorry, realising that you have been on the wrong track and getting ready to start life over again from the ground floor . . . is what Christians call repentance. Now repentance is no fun at all. It is something much harder than merely eating humble pie. It means unlearning all the self-conceit and self-will that we have been training ourselves into for thousands of years. It means . . . undergoing a kind of death. Repentance may be a kind of death, but it leads us to new life. The heart of the Christian faith isn’t making ourselves look better on the outside but having God truly cleanse our hearts. All the fresh paint in the world won’t make us ready for Jesus. We’ll only be ready when we acknowledge ourselves as sinners in need of the Savior. As one hymn puts it, Come, ye thirsty, come, and welcome, God’s free bounty glorify; true belief and true repentance, every grace that brings you nigh. Let not conscience make you linger, nor of fitness fondly dream; all the fitness He requireth is to feel your need of Him. Do you feel your need for Jesus? He’s ready and willing to save all who put their trust in him. Come, Lord Jesus! Respond Ask the Lord to search your heart. Is there sin in your life that makes you hope Christ will delay his return? What would repentance from this sin look like? Pray that God would once again make straight the way for his Son to appear, bringing the fullness of his kingdom.

“We save us.” According to the University of Southern California’s Center for Religion and Civic Culture, the dominant religious trend of 2025 can be summed up by this phrase. A top religious trend of 2024 was similar: “Self-care as the new religion.” In her book Promise Land: My Journey Through America’s Self-Help Culture, Jessica Lamb-Shapiro humorously tells the story of the time she attended a writers’ conference for self-help authors. What she describes is less humorous: “I witnessed a pedagogy more befitting a tent revival than a classroom.” When a popular self-help author gave his keynote speech, “his congregants exulted, swooned, and wept.” The religious zeal with which the world pursues self-help isn’t surprising. Lacking a Savior, nonbelievers will look inward to solve their problems. But it’s concerning when self-help methods begin to trickle into Christian thought and teaching. In Colossians, Paul warns the church not to be taken captive by any human doctrine that is “not according to Christ” (Col. 2:8). As believers living in a “We save us” world, we need to pay careful attention to how self-help culture offers a false doctrine of salvation. Salvation by Self-Help Theologians sometimes refer to salvation in three phases: the believer’s past justification by faith, her ongoing sanctification by the Spirit, and her future hope of glorification in Christ. If we evaluate self-help claims with this theological framework in mind, we’ll find that most are aimed at one of these three phases of salvation. But they try to achieve it through the power of self, rather than through the gospel of Christ. Consider the following examples. Justification Self-help resources aimed at justification apart from Christ contain messages like “You are enough” or “You are worthy.” Consider one of the most popular TED Talks of all time: Brené Brown argues that vulnerability is the antidote to shame and that we overcome our innate fear of vulnerability by believing that “we’re enough.” As believers living in a “We save us” world, we need to pay careful attention to how self-help culture offers a false doctrine of salvation. With more than 69 million views in the 15 years since it first aired, Brown’s message of “You are enough” has become a creed for the current age, and it rolls off the tongues and through the feeds of Christ-followers far too often. Occasionally, it’s even quoted in Christian books and sermons. “You are enough” is a false gospel that looks within to find forgiveness, love, and grace, rather than looking into the face of a gracious and compassionate God who is enough on our behalf. In no uncertain terms, the Bible teaches that Christ alone is enough and that he is the antidote to shame. The good news of biblical justification is that we aren’t enough but Christ’s finished work on the cross is. Sanctification A vast number of self-help resources have always been aimed at sanctification apart from Christ. Why? Because most people have an innate awareness of their imperfection, even if they don’t acknowledge that they “fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23). Deep down, we all want to be better. How we get better is the multibillion-dollar question the self-help industry keeps trying to answer. Self-help “sanctification” tends to overemphasize habit formation as the secret to self-control. As believers, we sometimes fall prey to this trap when we tire of the slow process of sanctification. We long for a shortcut—five simple steps that will help us stop living this way and start living that way—so we spend more time reading books and watching videos that promise life hacks than reading our Bibles and praying for the Spirit’s help. Self-help methods may yield small-scale behavior change, but they can never deliver lasting heart change. (Hence Paul’s angst in Romans 7.) By definition, self-help is antithetical to sanctification because it pursues heart change without the regenerative power of the Helper himself (Titus 3:5). Glorification A growing number of self-help books seem to preach a form of glorification apart from Christ. With the rise of social media, many people have become obsessed with perfecting their physical bodies. I was recently disheartened when I walked into what I thought was a Christian bookstore, only to be confronted with cover after cover of books displaying ripped and toned shirtless bodies, each promising some new and improved method for diet and exercise. One self-help bestseller even boasts the title How Not to Die, promising its readers that premature death can be avoided by eating a plant-based diet. Diet and exercise are important parts of faithfully stewarding our physical bodies, but only Jesus Christ has the power to reverse the curse. The biblical doctrine of glorification promises we’ll one day be conformed to Christ’s image—forever released from the ravages of sin and completely renewed from the inside out. Then, and only then, will we escape the physical effects of the fall. In the meantime, we shouldn’t spend more time and money perfecting the perishable than we spend pursuing the imperishable crown of righteousness (1 Cor. 9:25–27; 2 Tim. 4:8). Salvation Is Greater than Self-Help If we want to be faithful to Christ in a culture where self is god, we must carefully guard against these cultural headwinds. We can start by evaluating our lives to consider what they reveal about where we’ve vested our hope. We shouldn’t spend more time and money perfecting the perishable than we spend pursuing the imperishable crown of righteousness. Do our lives bear witness to a hope that transcends self-help, or do we look more like the “We save us” generation that seeks life hacks in all the wrong places? Are we eager ambassadors for Christ, or are we evangelists for the latest health, beauty, and productivity trends? We don’t have to disregard industry leaders when their research uncovers new ways of doing life prudently or efficiently. All truth is God’s truth. But we must test their methods against Scripture and refuse to peddle any claim that is “not according to Christ” (Col. 2:8). More than anything, let’s relentlessly herald the true gospel: “He saves us!”

Every Christmas, churches around the world celebrate the incarnation of the Son using titles taken from Isaiah 9:6: “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” But why should the birth of a son be celebrated with the title “Everlasting Father,” and why does this Son bear this title? While no one assumes confusion between the first and second persons of the Trinity, the answers often given provide little clarity. Some take the expression “Everlasting Father” to mean something akin to “the father of time.” Accordingly, much like Micah 5:2, “Everlasting Father” would then describe the Son’s eternality. While this is certainly a truth of orthodox Christianity, it doesn’t appear to be the main point of the title. Most commentators rightly examine the context and argue the title “Father” is related to kingship in the ancient Near East (ANE), given the other titles and the kingship themes in the chapter. Still, these explanations are often expressed with a degree of uncertainty as to how this title, in connection with ANE kingship, should be understood in more concrete terms. Some have connected the title to one used by ANE kings to describe the king as the “father” of his people. Others simply affirm that kingship is in view while acknowledging the difficulty and ambiguity. Based on the passage’s immediate context and the ANE background, I believe that “Everlasting Father” deliberately evokes covenantal kingship language from the ANE. In doing so, the announcement of the Son’s birth declares he’s the King of kings and his kingdom has no end. Broader Context In Isaiah 7:1–9, Rezin (king of Syria) and Pekah (king of Israel) joined forces against Ahaz (king of Judah). The purpose of this attack was to set a ruler of their choosing over Judah. The prospect of fighting two kings was terrifying to Ahaz, but the prophet Isaiah emphasized the importance of trusting in the Lord despite the threat (vv. 4–9). To bolster the king’s faith, God invites Ahaz to request a sign “deep as Sheol or high as heaven” (vv. 10–11). When Ahaz refuses, Isaiah rebukes him, and the prophet announces the sign: A virgin will conceive and bear a son whose name will be called “Immanuel” (vv. 12–14). While Ahaz is told that Rezin and Pekah will soon no longer be a threat (vv. 15–16), he’s also warned of the devastation that Assyria will bring on Judah (vv. 17–25). ‘Everlasting Father’ is deliberately evoking covenantal kingship language from the ancient Near East. Isaiah 8:1–4 returns to the theme of children and the downfall of Syria and Israel before describing the Assyrian threat (vv. 5–15). The chapter concludes with an expression of Isaiah’s trust in YHWH and with Isaiah’s children as signs that stand in stark contrast to Ahaz’s lack of trust (vv. 16–22). As seen in 2 Kings 16, Ahaz fails to trust the Lord. Instead, he appeals to Tiglath-pileser, king of Assyria, declaring him to be master and father—a suzerain king over Judah and over himself. A suzerain was a king of one nation that had some measure of control and authority over another king and his kingdom. This meant Ahaz was ceding authority over his kingdom to the foreign power of Assyria. Rather than trusting in YHWH, Ahaz trusted in princes. It’s important, therefore, to consider the nature of the covenant Ahaz made with Tiglath-pileser. Ancient Near Eastern Covenants Covenants in their broader historical and cultural context intersect with treaties, laws, and royal grants, and often involve rituals, oaths, and other aspects of ANE society. In the broadest terms, covenants may be divided into those between parties of equal status and those hierarchical in nature. Parity treaties are well attested in the ANE. Unlike treaties between parties of unequal status, parity treaties refer to the parties as “brothers.” Old Testament examples include the covenants between Jonathan and David (1 Sam. 20) and Hiram and Solomon (1 Kings 5). Hierarchical treaties, by contrast, use terms such as “father and son” or “master and slave” to formalize the superiority of one king over another. The most relevant example is the treaty between Ahaz and Tiglath-pileser (2 Kings 16:5–9). This passage is significant. When Ahaz says “your servant and your son” (v. 7) to refer to himself, he’s declaring fealty to Tiglath-pileser and recognizing him as master and father. This declaration is further underscored by the tribute Ahaz offers, alongside his plea for deliverance from Syria and Israel. The historical situation in 2 Kings 16 lies in the background of Isaiah 7, which in turn sets the context for the declaration of Isaiah 9. The point is that Ahaz placed his trust in the wrong covenantal father. Isaiah 9 returns to the theme of kingship and the birth of a child. By calling the son in verse 6 “Everlasting Father,” the prophet deliberately evokes ANE covenantal language in which greater kings are called “father” over lesser kings. The point is that Ahaz placed his trust in the wrong covenantal father. While Tiglath-pileser’s kingdom would rise and fall, the Son’s kingdom will have no end. So, this Christmas, when you sing that Jesus, the Son, is “Everlasting Father,” remember that his kingdom has no end. The title challenges you to ask, Where will you place your trust? Will you declare fealty to the princes of this world, or will you hope in the Son alone?