When Curiosity Interrupted My Quiet Time

It’s some days to Christmas. Work is slowing down, the usual busyness is easing off, and the atmosphere is gradually sliding into festivity mode. In the middle of this calm, however, I felt a quiet unease, one I couldn’t quite shake. I hadn’t been studying the Bible as consistently as I should.

So, I made a modest plan: during the holidays, I would study the first three or four books of the New Testament. Nothing ambitious. Just intentional.

I barely got through the first five chapters of the very first book – Matthew before my reading was interrupted, not by distraction, but by curiosity.

In Matthew 4, the Bible records the temptation of Jesus. As I read, something struck me: this temptation did not appear symbolic or abstract. It was happening in real time, in real places. Jesus had just fasted for forty days. He was physically weak. And then the devil took Him—not in a dream, not in a vision clearly stated, but in a way that suggests bodily, lived experience.

That realization alone slowed me down.

Then came the verse:
“Then the devil took Him to the holy city and set Him on the pinnacle of the temple.”

I paused. If this temptation happened bodily – physically where exactly is this “holy city”? I tried to give myself a quick answer, but it felt incomplete, almost careless.

Before I could settle that question, Matthew continued with the third temptation:

“Again, the devil took Him up on an exceedingly high mountain and showed Him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory.”

That was it. My curiosity jumped up again.

Which mountain is so high that it can give a view of all the kingdoms of the world? Not Mount Everest. Not any mountain I know. And yet, this was not the first time I had read these verses.

I told myself not to overthink it and continued reading.

By the time I reached Matthew chapter 5 and verse 3

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven”

I stopped completely.

Who are the poor in spirit, bayi?

At that point, it became obvious: I could not rush past these questions. If Jesus’ temptation was real and bodily, then the places mattered. And if the places mattered, then the words that followed spoken by the same Jesus deserved careful attention.

So, I paused.

Let’s begin with the first question.

Where Was the “Holy City” the Devil Took Jesus To?
The “holy city” in Matthew 4:5 is Jerusalem.

Jerusalem was called holy because it was the spiritual centre of Jewish life. It housed the Temple, the place where God’s presence was believed to dwell among His people. To the Jewish audience, no city carried greater religious weight.

By taking Jesus there, the devil was being deliberate. This was not just a physical location; it was a spiritual symbol. The temptation challenged Jesus to prove His identity publicly, dramatically, and on sacred ground. It was an invitation to test God rather than trust Him.

The Exceedingly High Mountain

The mountain presents a different kind of puzzle.

If the temptation was bodily, no physical mountain could literally display all the kingdoms of the world at once. This suggests that while Jesus was physically present on a mountain, what He was shown was supernatural in nature, a moment where spiritual reality intersected with physical space.

The offer itself was the real temptation: power without obedience, glory without the cross.

Jesus refused.

So, Who Are the “Poor in Spirit”?

This brings us to Matthew 5:3.

To be poor in spirit is not to lack confidence or ambition. It is to recognize one’s spiritual helplessness apart from God. It is the opposite of self-sufficiency.

The poor in spirit know they cannot earn God’s favour. They do not stand before Him with achievements, titles, or pride – only with humility and dependence.

And to such people, Jesus gives a profound promise: theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

The Lesson I Almost Missed

What began as a simple holiday reading plan became a reminder that Scripture does not reward speed; it rewards attentiveness. Sometimes, spiritual growth doesn’t come from reading more chapters, but from stopping at the right verse.

This Christmas season, I’m learning that holy moments often interrupt us, not with easy answers, but with questions that draw us deeper.
And maybe that, too, is grace.