MLK Jr. Day can feel more like a political brawl than a moment of unity. But these four prayers can help you cut through the noise and choose God’s love over pride.

When the world’s noise weighs on your heart and your thoughts feel crowded with fear or distraction, this prayer helps you invite God’s truth to clear the clutter and renew your mind in His peace and purpose.

Matthew’s infancy narrative ends with a passage that has baffled biblical scholars: “And [Joseph] went and lived in a city called Nazareth, so that what was spoken by the prophets might be fulfilled, that he would be called a Nazarene” (Matt. 2:22–23). The problem is that the Old Testament never says the Messiah would be called a “Nazarene.” In fact, Nazareth isn’t mentioned in the Old Testament, and it’s believed that the town didn’t even exist when the Old Testament was written. Various theories have been suggested for Matthew’s meaning here, but I suggest the clue is to be found in the mystery (and even foolishness) associated with a Messiah coming from the obscurity of this small town in Galilee. ‘Nazarene’ Points to the Messianic ‘Branch’ Perhaps the most popular guess at Matthew’s meaning is that the name “Nazarene” is a play on words, as the Hebrew word for “branch” is nezer. This nezer or “branch” contains messianic connotations, or so it’s thought, based on the prophecy in Isaiah 11:1–3 of a coming Messiah: There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch from his roots shall bear fruit. And the Spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him, the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and might, the Spirit of knowledge and the fear of the LORD. And his delight shall be in the fear of the LORD. Jesus is that Branch, that nezer, and his being called a Nazarene evokes that messianic image. Other passages also contain the image of a messianic “branch” but use a different Hebrew word (Jer. 23:5; 33:15; Zech. 3:8; 6:12). Was this the connection Matthew wants us to make? We can’t be sure, but another view is now gaining traction, and it has much in its favor. ‘Nazarene’ Points to Messianic Rejection Matthew’s citation in 2:23 differs in two ways from his typical formula when citing the Old Testament. First, he speaks of “the prophets” (plural), hinting that he isn’t referring to any particular prophecy but to a broader idea to which the prophets spoke. Second, the citation is introduced with the term “that” (hoti), rather than his usual term “saying” (legontos), suggesting a more general idea is in mind (cf. 4:6; 21:16). The word “that” merely introduces the general content of a prophetic tradition. The NIV rightly captures this thought: “So was fulfilled what was said through the prophets, that he would be called a Nazarene.’” The clue is to be found in the mystery (and even foolishness) associated with a Messiah coming from the obscurity of this small town in Galilee. During his life, Jesus is known as “Jesus of Nazareth” instead of “Jesus of Bethlehem.” But how could the Messiah come from such an insignificant village of probably less than 500 people, way up in the hill country of Galilee? In John’s Gospel, Philip tells Nathanael, “We have found him of whom Moses in the Law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.” Nathanael replies, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” (John 1:45–46). A Messiah coming from Nazareth seems inconceivable and even foolish to Nathanael, as it would to any Jew. For Jesus, to be called a Nazarene seems nothing but an insult. Instead of labeling Jesus a Bethlehemite, Matthew identifies him as a Nazarene, one who would inevitably be misunderstood and ultimately rejected. This is precisely what the prophets predicted would happen. Consider the description of the Suffering Servant in Isaiah 53: “He grew up before him like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground” (v. 2). The Servant’s origin would be unexpected and surprising. Isaiah continues, He had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. (Isa. 53:2–3) In the first-century Jewish mind, it would be foolish to think the Messiah could come from Nazareth, but doesn’t such an origin reflect the very foolishness of the gospel itself—the message of a crucified Messiah? Jesus describes as “foolish” those who were slow to believe all that the prophets had spoken, that the Messiah would have to suffer before entering his glory (Luke 24:25–26). In God’s mysterious design, his Son’s birth wouldn’t take place in a royal palace but in a cattle stall. He wouldn’t be raised in the luxury of a prince but in the humble home of a carpenter. He wouldn’t come from the political capital of Jerusalem, much less Rome, but from a tiny, obscure village outside the corridors of power. He’d be scorned by the religious leaders; he’d be despised and rejected, being held in low esteem; and he’d suffer the shame and agony of a Roman cross. He’d be, as the apostle Paul describes it, “a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles”—nothing but a Nazarene (1 Cor. 1:23). The Messiah must first suffer before entering his glory. ‘Nazarene’ as a Discipleship Calling “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” You wouldn’t think so—but God arranged the events of Jesus’s birth so he’d be called a “Nazarene.” And in Acts 24, that’s just what Paul’s Jewish opponent derisively called Jesus’s followers—“Nazarenes” (v. 5). The Messiah must first suffer before entering his glory. That’s what it means to be a Christian. Take up your cross and follow Jesus, in his obscurity and humility, bearing his reproach, as he bore yours. Cast off all that would cause you to boast in the world—all your achievements and all your good deeds—all that would bring you honor and glory in the world’s eyes. In fulfilment of the words spoken by the prophets, Jesus was called a Nazarene. Are you willing to be called one, too?

After 10 years, five seasons, and 42 episodes, the hit Netflix show Stranger Things has now concluded. Directed by the Duffer Brothers, Stranger Things follows a group of kids (and a few adults) in Hawkins, Indiana, during the 1980s as they battle supernatural threats from the “Upside Down.” The show is both an extraordinary accomplishment and a thudding disappointment. Its success stemmed from the nostalgia, mythology, and theme of friendship that was its heart and soul. But the show’s recent emphasis on sexual identity undermined the thematic core that the Duffer Brothers spent years constructing. Christians need not be shocked to see these themes in secular entertainment—even “family” entertainment. The LGBT+ plotline has become all too predictable. That Stranger Things followed this script too is another reminder that we’re living in a “strange new world.” However, Christians can respond by pointing out how an obsession with sexual identity flattens otherwise interesting characters and sucks the narrative life out of otherwise compelling stories. Thematic Clarity Fans love Stranger Things because of its thematic clarity. The Duffer Brothers created a consistent world. The show isn’t only set in the 1980s but also recreates the feel of the ’80s, reminding viewers of some of their favorite childhood movies from Steven Spielberg and George Lucas. Stranger Things recalls a time before helicopter parents, when kids were frequently on bicycle adventures with their friends. The show’s sci-fi-meets-horror mythology also creates intrigue. The dark and foggy Upside Down is both terrifying and underexplained. A preserved sense of mystery—an unabashedly enchanted world—contributes to the show’s refreshing appeal in a secular age. The supernatural elements also clearly distinguish between good and evil. But friendship forms the show’s core. At the most important moments, the episodes return to this theme. The series begins and ends with four friends playing Dungeons & Dragons. Every season concludes with the same lesson: The protagonists need each other to defeat the darkness. Even Eleven (a girl with superpowers) can’t do it alone. True strength comes not from solo heroes but from tight-knit relationships and committed community. Rise of Sexual Identity Unfortunately, as the kids mature and the series wears on, these elements become undercut by a growing fixation on sexual identity. This culminates in a poorly written six-minute “coming out” scene in episode 7 of the final season. My negative assessment isn’t simply a Christian calling out a theme that clashes with my worldview; the episode is the series’ worst-rated. Many viewers have found the “coming out” scene forced and artificial. Will Byers (Noah Schnapp) occupies a paradoxical role. He’s the first kid captured and kept in the Upside Down, and the monsters continually target him as a victim. It isn’t until the last season that he figures out his greatest weakness can also be used as a strength. Because he’s so tapped into the “hive-mind” of the Upside Down, he can use this connection to subvert the enemy. However, Vecna (the Upside Down’s archvillain) also uses Will’s secret—that he’s gay—as a weapon. Therefore, to continue helping his friends, Will has to let them know his secret. This neuters Stranger Things’s most powerful themes. When Will confesses, everyone awkwardly rallies around him in acceptance, confessing their continued love for him. The anachronism is hard to miss. Stranger Things suddenly doesn’t seem set in a 1980s Indiana small town. It rather feels like a scene from a Los Angeles DEI meeting today. Previously, to conquer the Demogorgons, the kids had to band together and combine their strengths. But with Will’s coming out, the show seems to suggest that to defeat evil, they really just need to know who they are in terms of sexual identity. The idea that expressive individualism is what helps defeat Vecna is hard to take seriously. Does the fate of the world really rest on Will’s coming out? Hollywood’s reliance on this trope is both predictable and mind-numbing. Does the fate of the world really rest on Will’s coming out? Hollywood’s reliance on this trope is both predictable and mind-numbing. Worse, Will’s coming out nearly topples the theme of friendship. Questions surrounding Will’s relationship to best friend Mike (Finn Wolfhard) complicate what had been the relational heart of the show. Was their relationship truly a friendship or a one-sided romantic crush? If previously community and friendship were paramount, now sexual identity becomes the group’s focal point. This plot development didn’t resonate because the Duffer Brothers had anchored their series around something deeper than sexual identity––friendship. Upside-Down World of Christ A Christian anthropology encourages us to think of ourselves not primarily in terms of our sexuality but in terms of our friendship with God and others (John 15:15). We’re defined not by what we think of ourselves or how we define ourselves but by how we relate to God and others. When we reduce relationships to sexuality, we miss so much of what God has for us. A deeper and wider view of our relationships has been lost in a culture obsessed with sex and self-expression. Christianity challenges our culture’s obsessions. When Paul entered Thessalonica, the city accused him of “[turning] the world upside down” with his teaching (Acts 17:6). His proclamation of Jesus’s gospel—and its implications for all of life—disrupted social norms. When we reduce relationships to sexuality, we miss so much of what God has for us. Will’s coming-out scene is framed as a cathartic confession. But in Christianity, confession’s liberating power comes when we name the darkness within us and repent from it—rather than embracing it and asking others to accept it. We expose the monster inside us so it might be conquered through the power of a loving God, and with the help of our friends. Our Christian brothers and sisters who struggle with same-sex attraction, or other disordered desires, know this is where true life is found. Stranger Things initially captivated audiences because it was genuinely strange—a throwback to a Goonies-style innocence of childhood friendship and adventure. But as the series pressed into themes of sexual identity, it began to feel less strange and more strangely familiar—yet also empty. What Hollywood misses is that identity politics is too thin an account of who we are. Screenwriters imagine this move as courageous, but audiences can see through the tiresome sexual haze. The rise and triumph of stranger times has arrived. And it’s surprisingly boring.

When the world’s noise weighs on your heart and your thoughts feel crowded with fear or distraction, this prayer helps you invite God’s truth to clear the clutter and renew your mind in His peace and purpose.