Matthew 3:9

Berean Standard Bible

And do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’ For I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham.

King James Bible

And think not to say within yourselves, We have Abraham to our father: for I say unto you, that God is able of these stones to raise up children unto Abraham.

-------------------------------

This verse, nestled in the fiery proclamation of John the Baptist, is a profound theological confrontation against the presumption of privilege, the complacency of heritage, and the illusion of spiritual entitlement. It carries the weight of prophetic rebuke and the force of divine revelation, tearing down the walls of religious security that had been erected over generations and calling the people of Israel back to the raw, humbling reality of genuine covenantal relationship with God.

John, addressing the Pharisees and Sadducees—representatives of the religious elite—pierces through their unspoken confidence. “Think not to say within yourselves,” he warns, indicating that the problem is not merely verbal profession but inward assumption. This is a direct challenge to the inner dialogue of the religious mind, the unspoken reasoning by which one justifies oneself. John is speaking to the human tendency to trust in external identifiers—lineage, ritual, association, tradition—as a shield against divine scrutiny. For these leaders, and for much of first-century Judaism, descent from Abraham was not simply an ethnic marker; it was a theological identity. Abraham was the friend of God, the one to whom the promises were given, and his offspring, the children of Israel, understood themselves to be the heirs of those promises.

But John makes clear that physical descent from Abraham does not guarantee spiritual favor. To claim Abraham as one’s father is not, in and of itself, a safeguard from judgment. The implication is staggering: covenantal privilege does not excuse covenantal unfaithfulness. The Pharisees and Sadducees believed that being born into the right bloodline ensured God’s blessing and spared them from the wrath John was proclaiming. But John denounces this presumption as not only false but dangerous. He insists that God is not bound by human genealogies. The Creator of heaven and earth is not limited to continuing His redemptive plan through biological succession. The covenant promises to Abraham will be fulfilled—but God is free to fulfill them in ways that transcend human expectations and categories.

The image John uses is strikingly vivid and intentionally offensive to the religious imagination of his audience: “God is able of these stones to raise up children unto Abraham.” This statement does several things at once. First, it undermines any notion that God needs man, even religious man, to accomplish His purposes. Second, it levels the playing field—God can take lifeless, inert stones and from them bring forth a new generation of covenant people. It is a call to humility, a declaration that divine election is a matter of grace and power, not human pedigree. There is an echo here of the creative power of God in Genesis, who formed man from the dust of the earth. Just as God breathed life into clay, so can He raise sons from stones. The people of Israel cannot presume that their heritage exempts them from repentance, nor that God’s plan is confined to their structures.

There is also an implicit prophetic foreshadowing in John’s words. His declaration anticipates the inclusion of the Gentiles into the family of God. The “stones” may refer not only to literal rocks but symbolically to those outside the covenant, considered lifeless or unclean by the Jewish establishment. John, standing on the banks of the Jordan, is proclaiming that a new era is at hand—one in which the people of God will not be defined merely by ancestry, but by repentance, faith, and fruitfulness. His words break the boundaries of ethnocentric religion and point forward to the universal scope of the gospel. This is consistent with the later message of Jesus, who speaks of faith as more decisive than lineage, and it is fulfilled in the early church’s mission to the nations, where Gentiles are grafted into the promises of Israel through Christ.

John’s challenge also highlights the difference between nominal identity and spiritual reality. To be a child of Abraham in the biblical sense is not merely to share his blood but to share his faith. Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness. The true sons and daughters of Abraham are those who walk in his footsteps, who trust in God and align their lives with His will. The Pharisees and Sadducees, despite their religious knowledge and social status, were devoid of the faith and obedience that marked Abraham’s life. Their reliance on their heritage was, in fact, a denial of the very nature of the covenant they claimed to uphold. John exposes this disconnect with prophetic clarity.

Furthermore, this verse serves as a mirror for all generations of believers, confronting the ways we, too, rely on status, history, or association to shield us from the demand for authentic transformation. Many today might not claim Abraham as father, but the same spiritual presumption can be found in claims such as: “I was raised in the church,” “I come from a Christian family,” “I’ve always believed,” or “I’m part of the right tradition.” These statements, while not inherently wrong, can become a subtle form of self-justification if they replace the necessary call to repentance, faith, and obedience. John’s words cut through every false security and remind us that God is not impressed with outward lineage or religious identity if it is not accompanied by inward renewal.

Theologically, John’s statement points to the sovereignty and freedom of God. He is not constrained by human expectations or traditions. He will fulfill His promises to Abraham, but He will do so on His terms, through His chosen means. He will raise up a new people, purified not by blood but by fire and Spirit. The true people of God are those who hear the voice of the prophet and respond with repentance, who forsake their idols and bring forth fruit in keeping with God’s holiness. Whether Jew or Gentile, male or female, slave or free—those who are in Christ are Abraham’s seed and heirs according to the promise.

Matthew 3:9 is, therefore, a warning, a redefinition, and a promise all in one. It warns against religious pride and presumption. It redefines what it means to be a child of Abraham—not by ancestry, but by repentance and faith. And it promises that God's purposes will not fail, even if He must raise up a people from stones. The kingdom is not inherited—it is entered. And it is entered not by the merit of one’s past or the prestige of one’s name, but by the brokenness of a repentant heart and the newness of a life transformed by God. John’s voice in this verse is not merely for the leaders of his day, but for every heart that would seek refuge in something other than the mercy and holiness of God. His message is urgent, unyielding, and ultimately liberating—for it is a call to leave behind false security and enter into the living covenant of the Spirit, where God Himself raises up children who will bear His image and proclaim His praise.

--------------------------------

Grace and peace be unto you, beloved, from the eternal fountain of divine mercy, the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has called us out of darkness into His marvelous light. I write to you, not as one who stands above, but as a fellow pilgrim, bound by the same hope, chastened by the same trials, and sustained by the same Spirit who breathes life into the words of sacred Scripture. My heart is stirred to speak to you concerning a truth both piercing and profound, drawn from the Gospel of Matthew, chapter three, verse nine, where the voice of John the Baptist thunders across the wilderness: “And do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father,’ for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children for Abraham.” O how this word cuts to the marrow, exposing the frailty of human boasting and the boundless sovereignty of divine grace! Let us, therefore, ponder its weight together, that we may walk humbly before our God and bear fruit worthy of repentance.

Consider, dear friends, the scene in which these words were spoken. John, the forerunner, stood by the Jordan, his voice a clarion call to a people slumbering in complacency. The Pharisees and Sadducees, cloaked in the garments of their lineage, approached him, confident in their heritage as sons of Abraham. They believed their descent secured their favor, as though the blood of the patriarch were a shield against the judgment to come. Yet John, moved by the Spirit, shattered their presumption. “Do not presume,” he declared, for no claim of ancestry, no appeal to tradition, no reliance on outward privilege can stand before the searching gaze of the Holy One. God is not bound by human pedigrees, nor is His covenant confined to those who rest in the shadow of their fathers’ faith. From the very stones—lifeless, unformed, without merit or claim—He can raise up heirs of the promise. What a humbling truth! What a testament to the power of God, who creates from nothing, who calls into being that which is not, and who exalts the lowly while bringing low the proud!

Let us, then, examine our own hearts in light of this word. For are we not tempted, even now, to lean upon our own claims of righteousness? Do we not, at times, find comfort in our religious observances, our churchly affiliations, or our moral strivings, as though these could earn us a place in the kingdom? Perhaps we say to ourselves, “I have been baptized,” or “I have served faithfully,” or “I have walked in the ways of my godly forebears.” Yet the Baptist’s warning echoes through the ages: do not presume. Our confidence must not rest in what we have done, nor in who we claim to be, but in the unmerited grace of God alone. For He is the potter, and we are the clay; He is the builder, and we are the stones. If He so chooses, He can fashion from the dust a people for His glory, and none can say, “I am worthy by my own right.”

This truth, beloved, is both a rebuke and a comfort. It is a rebuke to our pride, which clings to self-sufficiency and boasts in what is fleeting. Like the Pharisees, we may be tempted to trust in our spiritual credentials, forgetting that all we have is a gift, and all we are is by His mercy. Yet it is also a comfort, for it reminds us that God’s purposes are not limited by our failures or our lack. From the barren places of our lives, from the stony ground of our hearts, He can bring forth fruit. He is not hindered by our unworthiness, for His power is made perfect in weakness. Consider the stones by the Jordan—rough, unhewn, without voice or virtue. Yet God’s word declares that even these can become children of Abraham, heirs of the covenant, partakers of the promise. So it is with us. Though we are frail, though we stumble, though we are but dust, God is able to make us His own, to breathe His Spirit into us, and to conform us to the image of His Son.

Therefore, let us heed the call of John, which is the call of Christ Himself: repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. Repentance is not merely sorrow for sin, though it begins there; it is a turning of the heart, a reordering of our loves, a casting away of all that hinders us from clinging to Christ alone. It is to say, with the publican, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner,” and to trust not in our lineage or our works, but in the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world. For the axe, as John warned, is laid at the root of the tree, and every tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down. Let us, then, bear fruit in keeping with repentance—fruit of love, of humility, of justice, of compassion, of unwavering devotion to the One who is our life and our salvation.

And let us marvel, beloved, at the wideness of God’s mercy. For if He can raise up children from stones, who then is beyond the reach of His grace? The outcast, the broken, the rebel, the one who seems furthest from the fold—all are within the scope of His redeeming love. This is the gospel that John heralded, the gospel that Christ fulfilled: that God is making a people for Himself, not from one nation or lineage, but from every tribe and tongue, from the highways and hedges, from the very stones of the earth. Let this truth embolden us to proclaim His name, to carry His light into the darkness, and to invite all to come to the waters of baptism, where sins are washed away and new life is found.

Now, as I draw this letter to a close, I urge you, brothers and sisters, to fix your eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith. He is the true seed of Abraham, the fulfillment of the promise, the one through whom all nations are blessed. In Him, we are made children of God, not by the will of the flesh, nor by the boast of heritage, but by the power of His Spirit. Let us, therefore, walk worthy of this calling, humbling ourselves before the God who raises the lowly, trusting in the grace that makes all things new, and loving one another as Christ has loved us. May the God of all grace, who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ, establish, strengthen, and settle you. To Him be the glory and the dominion forever and ever. Amen.

---------------------------------

O Eternal and Sovereign God, whose wisdom is unsearchable and whose judgments are righteous altogether, we bow before You in holy reverence, for You are the God who sees not as man sees, who regards not the flesh, nor the name, nor the heritage of men, but looks into the heart and weighs the soul by the scale of truth. You are the God of Abraham, the God of covenant and promise, who called Your servant from Ur of the Chaldees, not because of merit, but because of mercy. And now, O Lord, we come before You confessing that too often we have said within ourselves, “We have Abraham as our father,” trusting in what is inherited rather than what is infused, boasting in bloodlines while neglecting the blood of the Lamb, relying on tradition without trembling before truth.

Forgive us, O God, for the sin of presumption—for thinking that because we have known the Scriptures, we have obeyed them; because we have recited the creeds, we have lived them; because we have descended from godly men, we have ourselves become godly. But You, Lord, are not a respecter of persons. You do not bind Yourself to our pedigrees or preferences. You are not impressed by lineage nor swayed by history. You are able, even from the lifeless stones beneath our feet, to raise up a holy people, children unto Abraham, heirs of the promise, filled not with the pride of flesh but the power of the Spirit.

So then, O God, purge us from every hidden reliance on what we have been rather than what You are making us to be. Let us not look backward to find our justification, nor sideways to find our security, but upward to the throne of grace, where mercy speaks better things than the blood of Abel, and righteousness is imputed to those who believe. Let us not think within ourselves, “I was born into the covenant people,” or “My parents served the Lord,” or “I was raised in the house of God,” and in so thinking silence the call to repentance. For the axe is already laid at the root of the trees, and every tree that bears not good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire.

We do not ask, Lord, that You preserve our name; we ask that You glorify Yours. We do not ask that You preserve our monuments; we ask that You build Your kingdom in us. Raise up children unto Abraham—not by blood, but by faith. Raise up sons and daughters who walk in the steps of Abraham, who stagger not at the promises of God through unbelief, but grow strong in faith, giving glory to Your name. Raise up a people whose confidence is not in their ancestry, their denomination, their ritual, or their reputation, but in the living Christ who fulfills the promise and redeems the seed.

And if You would raise them from stones, then raise us also—for we have been cold, unyielding, and without life. But Your breath can quicken, Your word can awaken, and Your Spirit can make even the hardest stone a living temple. Write Your law upon our hearts. Engrave the name of Jesus upon our inmost being. Make us not only hearers of covenant but keepers of it, not only confessors of truth but lovers of it. Let the legacy we claim be the legacy we live—that we would bear the likeness of our spiritual forefather not in name only, but in faith, in obedience, in sacrifice, and in hope.

We tremble before this word, O Lord, for it strips us of every false covering. It leaves no room for pride, no hiding place for hypocrisy, no shelter in human boasting. It drives us to the foot of the cross, where every fleshly credential is nailed and crucified, and only grace remains. And there, Lord, we find our adoption—not through the will of the flesh, nor the will of man, but by the will of God. There, we become children of promise, born again not of corruptible seed but of incorruptible, by the word of God which lives and abides forever.

So let it be, Lord. Shatter every illusion. Remove every self-made identity. Cut off every reliance on the flesh. And raise up in us the faith that justifies, the obedience that proves it, and the fruit that endures. Let it be known, in heaven and on earth, that we are not children of Abraham because we claim him, but because we walk with the God he walked with. Not because we bear his name, but because we carry his faith. And may You, the God who is able to raise up children from stones, be glorified in vessels once dead but now alive, once proud but now humbled, once lost but now found in Christ.

In His name alone we pray, with confidence, with trembling, and with hope. Amen.