Matthew 1:23

Letters to the Faithful - Matthew 1:23

Berean Standard Bible

“Behold, the virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call Him Immanuel” (which means, “God with us”).

King James Bible

Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us.

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To the beloved of God in every place, sanctified in Christ Jesus and called to be saints, grace and peace be multiplied to you from God our Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ, who is our life and our light. I write to you today, stirred by the profound and eternal truth contained in the sacred Scriptures, particularly in the Gospel according to Matthew, chapter 1 and verse 23, which proclaims: “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel (which means, God with us).”

Brothers and sisters, we must pause and give heed to the divine gravity of this verse. These are not merely words of historical recollection or religious tradition. They are the announcement of a mystery long concealed and now revealed. It is the declaration of the incarnation—the eternal God taking on flesh, stepping into the limitations and frailty of humanity, dwelling not merely above us or around us, but with us. This is not a poetic phrase nor a theological abstraction. It is the foundational reality of the Christian faith: that God, who formed the heavens and governs the cosmos, chose not to remain distant, but came near—infinitely near—in the person of Jesus Christ.

Matthew, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, draws this prophecy from Isaiah 7:14, where the Lord gave a sign to Ahaz in the midst of political chaos and spiritual decline. There, the promise of a virgin-born son was given as both a rebuke and a revelation—that the God of Israel would not abandon His covenant people. That same prophecy echoes across the centuries, now fulfilled in the birth of Jesus from the virgin Mary, confirming that God's ultimate answer to human sin, fear, and estrangement is not wrath alone, but presence. Not mere correction, but communion.

Consider what this means, beloved: Immanuel, God with us. Not only with us in general terms, but with us in our condition, in our brokenness, in our struggles and burdens, in our waiting and longing. He did not send an angel or raise a prophet alone, but came Himself. He entered into our story—not at its peak, but at its lowest point. He came into a world ruled by empires, oppressed by sin, and gasping for hope. He came not to the proud but to the lowly, not to palaces but to a manger, not with the sword of Caesar but with the Word made flesh.

Let this truth sink deep into your heart: Immanuel means there is no place too dark, no situation too dire, no soul too distant, for God to reach and redeem. God with us means that He is not a far-off deity to be appeased, but a near Savior to be embraced. He is with us in joy and in sorrow, in clarity and confusion, in strength and in weakness. He is with us when the road is straight and when it is steep. He is with us in the fire, in the storm, in the valley, and in the night. And He is not merely present—He is active, He is loving, and He is faithful.

This glorious truth should not remain merely theological; it demands practical application. If God is with us, then we must live as those who are not alone. Anxiety loses its power in the presence of Immanuel. Fear must yield to faith. Despair must bow to hope. When temptation arises, we must remember that He is with us and that His presence empowers purity. When trials press upon us, we do not cry out into emptiness, for He is near, sustaining, interceding, and strengthening us.

Furthermore, Immanuel reshapes our worship. We do not come into His presence; we live in it. Every act of obedience becomes sacred when we know He is with us. Every moment becomes worship when we are aware of His indwelling presence. Let us not relegate God to sacred spaces and special days. Let us not live as practical atheists who profess faith but walk as if abandoned. No, we must carry the awareness of Immanuel into our workplaces, our homes, our conversations, and our relationships. For God is with us—not in theory, but in reality.

Immanuel also forms the bedrock of our mission. As those who have received the presence of Christ, we are now called to carry that presence into the world. We are temples of the Holy Spirit, ambassadors of reconciliation, ministers of presence in a world filled with absence. When we show up for the broken, when we speak words of life into despair, when we walk alongside the grieving or stand for the voiceless, we bring with us the reality of Immanuel. The Church is not merely an institution—it is the habitation of God by the Spirit. And where the Church goes, Christ goes.

Finally, let us remember that this glorious promise is not limited to the past. Immanuel is not a seasonal name. The One who came in Bethlehem still dwells with His people and has promised to be with us to the end of the age. He who was born among us now reigns above us, and by His Spirit lives within us. We await His return, but we do not wait as orphans. We wait as those indwelt by the living God. And in that confidence, we endure every hardship, resist every lie, and rejoice in every circumstance.

Therefore, beloved, let this verse not become familiar in the wrong way. Let it never be reduced to a Christmas card sentiment. Let it ignite your faith, recalibrate your steps, and renew your love. Immanuel—God with us—is the central truth of our redemption, the hope of our transformation, and the promise of our eternal future. Live in light of it. Walk in the strength of it. Worship in the joy of it. And proclaim it to a world that so desperately needs to know that it has not been forsaken.

To Him who is Immanuel—God with us, God in us, and God for us—be all glory, honor, and dominion, now and forevermore. Amen.

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O Sovereign and Holy Father, Almighty and Everlasting God, we come before You in awe and wonder, lifting our hearts with reverence and our voices with gratitude, as we contemplate the glory and mystery of the word declared in the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 1, verse 23: “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call His name Immanuel (which means, God with us).” O Lord, how glorious is this truth, how astonishing the mercy, how boundless the love, that You, the infinite and eternal One, would draw near to dwell among Your creation, not in terror or judgment, but in grace and humility, wrapped in the frailty of human flesh.

We praise You, Father, for Your eternal plan, conceived before the foundations of the world, that the Word would become flesh and dwell among us. You did not abandon us in our sin, nor forsake us in our rebellion. When we had turned aside, when we had chosen our own way, when darkness covered the earth and a veil separated us from Your holiness, You pierced the silence with the cry of a newborn King. In the womb of a virgin, by the overshadowing power of the Holy Spirit, You gave us a Savior—Your Son, Your exact image, the radiance of Your glory, Immanuel—God with us.

O Lord Jesus Christ, Immanuel, we exalt You. You did not regard equality with God as something to cling to, but emptied Yourself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. You stepped into time, into the dust and burden of human life, that You might be with us—not in theory, not at a distance, but truly, bodily, personally. You walked among the lowly, touched the unclean, healed the sick, raised the dead, comforted the broken, and rebuked the proud. You showed us the face of the Father and opened the way back to Him by Your cross.

We bless You, Lord, for not merely coming to visit us, but to rescue us. Your presence was not passive. You came to bear our griefs and carry our sorrows, to be pierced for our transgressions and crushed for our iniquities. By Your wounds we are healed. By Your death we are reconciled. By Your resurrection we are raised. And now, risen and glorified, You are still Immanuel. You are not absent from us. You have not departed from us. You are with us always, even to the end of the age.

Holy Spirit, Spirit of the Living God, we thank You for making the presence of Christ real in our hearts and in our midst. You have not left us as orphans. You indwell us, guide us, empower us, and comfort us. You are the Spirit of adoption, the seal of our inheritance, the witness of our sonship, the fire that burns in our bones. You make Immanuel more than a name; You make Him our daily reality. We are not alone, for You are within us. We are not forsaken, for You are upon us. We are not helpless, for You intercede through us with groanings too deep for words.

Lord, we confess that though You are with us, we often live as though we are alone. We confess our spiritual amnesia, forgetting Your nearness in times of trouble and seeking solutions in our own strength. Forgive us for the times we doubt Your presence simply because we cannot feel it. Forgive us for measuring Your love by our circumstances rather than Your Word. Forgive us for running to substitutes and idols, when all the while You have been near, whispering in the quiet, waiting in the stillness.

O God, awaken our hearts to the reality of Immanuel. Teach us to live with a deep, abiding awareness that You are with us—not only in sacred spaces but in everyday places. You are with us in our homes, in our work, in our trials, and in our waiting. You are with us when we rise and when we lie down, when we succeed and when we stumble. There is no moment too mundane, no circumstance too dark, where You are not already there. Let us not seek to ascend into heaven or descend into the depths, for You are already near—in our mouths, in our hearts, in the fellowship of Your people, and in the breaking of bread.

We ask, Lord, that the truth of Immanuel would reshape our lives. Let it infuse our worship with wonder, our service with joy, our suffering with hope, and our obedience with confidence. Let Your nearness embolden us to love sacrificially, to endure faithfully, and to proclaim courageously that Christ has come and is coming again. Let us carry the presence of Immanuel into every broken place in this world—into prisons and hospitals, into schools and marketplaces, into homes filled with pain and streets filled with despair. Let us be vessels of Your nearness to a world aching with loneliness and lostness.

Immanuel, be with us in our mourning. Be with us in our battles. Be with us in our weakness. Be with us when we feel abandoned, when the night is long and the path uncertain. Be with us in our victories, lest we grow proud, and in our defeats, lest we lose heart. Be with Your Church, Lord Jesus—purify her, unify her, strengthen her, and cause her to shine as a light in the darkness, a city on a hill, a living testimony that God has not forsaken the earth, but has come to dwell with humanity.

And when the last day dawns, when the trumpet sounds and the King returns in glory, may we lift up our heads in joy, for we shall see Immanuel face to face. The One who was with us in Spirit shall then be with us in fullness. The One who walked with us in secret shall reign with us in glory. And the dwelling place of God shall be with man forever. No more veil. No more separation. No more sorrow. You shall be our God, and we shall be Your people, and the Lamb shall be our light forever.

So we pray, with hearts burning and hope rising: Come, Lord Jesus. Immanuel, abide with us now and forevermore. For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory, world without end.

Amen.