“On entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother. They prostrated themselves and did him homage. Then they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh” (Matt 2:11).

One of the most opulent verses in all the Gospels, Matthew 2:11 overflows with action, color, and even wealth. Sophisticated men—wise men from the East—throw themselves on the ground before a little child. The profound worship of the magi astounds us.

Our English translations sometimes fall short of the original Greek’s power. To say the magi “knelt down” or “prostrated themselves” is fair. And to say they “did him homage” is rich enough. But truly, these men “fell down” (pesontes) and they “worshiped” (proskynesan). As deliberate as the magi apparently were, their act in the house of the Christ child was not entirely measured. Something overcame them and brought them to their knees.

It is hard to pin down exactly what it means to worship. But this single verse expresses it as well as anything. To worship something—to fall down before it, to submit entirely to it even with our bodies—is extraordinary, but also perfectly natural. It is to feel awe and wonder, to see and watch stars, to behold before us a presence, a person, a brother, a light. It is to know deep down in a place so instinctive that it is connected to our muscles and our memories that this One is sacred, and this One is kin. It is to know how close we have come to Glory.

Scripture often speaks of the face of God—how much we long for it (Ps 27:8), how dangerous it can be to gaze upon it (Exod 33:20), how light shines forth from it (Ps 4:6). Here, in the house of Jesus, in the arms of his mother, that light pours forth—brighter than anything we have ever seen before.

Come then, let us fall down! Let us return to him this gold, this Glory! Come, let us worship!