As I mentioned last week, every January I restart my annual Bible reading plan, and this year—like so many years before—it began in a familiar and surprising place: Matthew 1. That means the very first reading in the New Testament was not a miracle, a parable, or a command from Jesus, but a genealogy. A list of names. Some might say, “a boring list of names.” The kind of passage many of us are tempted to skim so we can get to the “good stuff.”
But Matthew doesn’t treat it like filler. In fact, the entire New Testament opens with a family tree. That alone should slow us down. God chose to introduce the arrival of His Son not with angels or shepherds, but with his ancestry. Now why is that? This genealogy is not accidental or boring; it is intentional and deeply theological. It is meant to show us who Jesus is and why His coming matters.
And honestly, it’s a pretty twisted family tree.
Christmas movies give us iconic characters—Ralphie from A Christmas Story, Buddy the Elf, Ebenezer Scrooge, George Bailey, and of course, Cousin Eddie from Christmas Vacation. Most families have a “Cousin Eddie”—the awkward branch you’d rather not talk about, the relative you quietly wish wasn’t part of the story. And if you can’t think of anyone like that in your family…there’s a decent chance it might be you! But the fact of the matter is that there are oftentimes some “black sheep” in every family.
Here’s the shocking thing about Matthew 1: Jesus’ family tree is filled with “Cousin Eddies.” Sinful men and women. Broken stories. Scandal. Sin. Heartbreak. Outsiders. And yet this is the family tree that God chose to bring His Son into the world.
So why does Matthew begin this way? And the answer is because this genealogy reveals who Jesus is, why he came, and why he is worth trusting.
In the Jewish world, genealogies were enormously important. We see genealogies listed at key places in the Old Testament as well (Genesis 5, 10-11, Exodus 6, Ruth 4, 1 Samuel 16, 1 & 2 Chronicles, Ezra & Nehemiah). They functioned like a résumé—establishing identity, legitimacy, and inheritance. Matthew is writing primarily to Jews, and his purpose is clear: to demonstrate that Jesus is the promised Messiah.
Many of Matthew’s original readers had already embraced Jesus and were paying a heavy price for it. They were slandered, disowned by family, ostracized from their communities, and in some cases persecuted or even killed. Others were still weighing the cost. For both groups, the question loomed large: Is it worth it?
Matthew answers immediately and unmistakably: Yes. Jesus is worth it.
There is also a larger biblical moment taking place. Matthew 1 stands at the seam between the Old and New Testaments. The Old Testament ends with promises still unfulfilled. God’s people have returned from exile but remain under foreign rule. Then come roughly 400 years of silence. No prophets. No new revelation. No words from God. Waiting. Longing. Anticipating. Wondering if God will keep His word.
But then Matthew 1:1 breaks the silence: “The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ…”
God has not forgotten! God has not failed! God has kept His promises! He speaks again through His Son! (see Hebrews 1:1-2)
Matthew’s opening sentence is packed with meaning:
“The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.”
The word “genealogy” is closely related to the word genesis, meaning “beginning.” Matthew is intentionally echoing Genesis 1:1. He is signaling that the coming of Jesus marks a new beginning—a new creation. When Jesus steps onto the scene, history turns. Everything before Him leads to this moment, and everything after Him flows from it.
Jesus is called “the Christ”—the Messiah, which means, “anointed one.” In other words, he is God’s anointed King. But Jesus isn’t like all the other “anointed ones,” the kings of Israel in the Old Testament. He is the Anointed King. The one promised, prophesied, and foretold would come. And Matthew highlights two great covenant promises surrounding Jesus’ arrival.
God promised David that one of his descendants would reign forever (2 Samuel 7). The prophets echoed this promise repeatedly. Isaiah spoke of a child whose government would never end, seated on David’s throne forever (Isaiah 9). Ezekiel spoke of a future “David” who would shepherd God’s people long after David himself was dead.
Yet by the end of Matthew’s genealogy, David’s line looks like it has all but disappeared. A tree that has been cut down to a “stump!” The kings have failed. The kingdom has fallen. The glory has faded. It looks hopeless. But even the prophet Isaiah foresaw a “root from the stump of Jesse.” (Isaiah 11:1)
Because after all this waiting and longing, then Jesus arrives—the true Son of David, the King whose reign will never end. Matthew is telling us that the greatest royal promise of the Old Testament finds its fulfillment in Christ.
God also promised Abraham that through his offspring all the families of the earth would be blessed (Genesis 12). Matthew is telling us that Jesus is that promised Offspring—the One through whom blessing comes not only to Israel, but to the nations. As Paul later explains, the promise was ultimately pointing to Christ (Galatians 3:16). Jesus is “the Seed” of Abraham that was prophesied.
Here’s the pastoral takeaway: God does not forget His promises. History may look messy. Your life may feel confusing, delayed, or unresolved. But Matthew 1 quietly and powerfully preaches this truth: God is sovereign and He is always faithful, and in Jesus every promise finds its “Yes and Amen” (2 Corinthians 1:20).
Another interesting thing about this genealogy is that it anchors the person of Christ and Christianity in real history. Jesus is not a myth, legend, an idea, or just some religious teacher like Buddha or Mohammed. He was born into a real family, in a real place, at a real moment in history.
Notice the shift in Matthew 1:16. For fifteen verses it’s “so-and-so fathered so-and-so.” Then suddenly it changes:
“Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born.”
The “begats” stop. Matthew is careful. Joseph is Jesus’ legal father, but not His physical one (Matthew’s genealogy is showing Jesus’ legal right to the throne through his adopted father, Joseph, whereas Luke’s genealogy shows us Jesus’ biological descent from his mother Mary). Jesus belongs to David’s royal line legally through Joseph, but His origin is divine. As Matthew will soon explain, this child was conceived by the Holy Spirit.
He is the son of Mary, but the Son of God. He is fully human. Born of Mary. Flesh and blood. He grew, suffered, wept, and died. Christianity is not primarily about what Jesus taught (though important), but about what He did—for us. This is the wonder of Christmas: the eternal Son of God took on humanity.
Finally, I want to point out that the “crooked branches” in this family tree are no accident. Matthew includes names that would have startled his readers—especially four women: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and “the wife of Uriah” (Bathsheba).
Women were rarely included in genealogies, and these are not the expected matriarchs like Sarah or Rebecca. They are outsiders and scandal-marked figures. Tamar’s story involves sexual sin, rape, and injustice (Genesis 38). Rahab was a prostitute and a Canaanite (Joshua 2). Ruth was a Moabite—an outsider from a cursed people. Bathsheba’s story is bound up with adultery and murder and an illegitimate child (2 Samuel 11).
Matthew is not sanitizing the past, rather he is preaching God’s grace in this genealogy.
These women point forward to the new family Jesus creates—a family where no one who trusts Him is excluded. Kings and prostitutes sit at the same table. Outsiders are welcomed. Sinners are redeemed. Grace triumphs over shame (Galatians 3:28).
There is a powerful illustration of this in the story of the Binumarien people of Papua New Guinea. When missionaries had first translated the Gospel of Matthew into their language, it was actually the genealogy in Matthew 1—of all things—that convinced them Jesus was real and to be trusted. “No one writes genealogies for spirit beings,” their chief said. “This means Jesus was a real man.” The list of names that so often bores us became the proof of truth—and God used it to bring salvation.
First, trust this King. You don’t become part of God’s family by being impressive. You become part of God’s family by faith in Christ.
Second, worship. This genealogy invites us to marvel at God’s faithfulness, His patience, and His grace toward sinners.
And third, bless others with this good news. The Son of Abraham has come, and we are called to join His mission—starting with our own families, even the “Cousin Eddies.” Jesus’ family tree reminds us that no one is beyond the reach of grace.
This is how the New Testament begins: not with a command, but with a King—and a crooked family, made new by mercy.
