by The Rev. Canon Tad de Bordenave
Founder and First Executive Director of AFM

January 6th highlights a group of God’s children. The traditional day of the visit of the Magi reminds us of the Persian visitors to the Holy Family. They bring us Gentile children of God, people who have no knowledge of God, or his Son, or his transforming love. The number of these individuals today is so staggering that they just slide by, omitted in most missions.

1,650,000,000 people on the globe today have not heard of Jesus Christ. They are not merely non-Christians. These have never had the opportunity to hear about Jesus Christ. They represent about 27% of the world’s population.

Something puzzles me about them. If these many people don’t know about Jesus, wouldn’t we expect them to be a priority for our mission? Of course “mission statements” must cover deeper discipleship, new ways of evangelism, and strong teaching. But these represent next steps. The first step is to make sure people have heard. Making them a priority should be obvious. It puzzles me, this omission of 27%.

I do not believe that leaders don’t care. I simply explain the omission as neglect. But that neglect could have eternal disastrous results for the 1.6 billion people. I cannot say that not hearing the gospel destines them to hell, but I will say that hearing does improve their chances for heaven!

Let me illustrate this neglect by imagining the arrival of the Magi in two different circumstances—at the home of Mary and Joseph in Bethlehem, and at a symbolic gathering of the church today.

It is possible that Mary’s cousin Elizabeth and her husband Zachariah were there at the time of the visit. If not, they certainly had spent many days and evenings together. The conversation of the four of them has not ever been duplicated. They pondered reports from the shepherds, recounting the appearance of the shekinah. They recalled the dreams of Matthew, the words of Gabriel to Mary.  Much to absorb.

Then came the knock on the door. They were strangers, and they were unexpected. Mary and Joseph had never seen the likes of them, clothing and language never heard or seen in Nazareth. But they were not hostile. Rather, they were eager to see the Child, to present him their gifts of lasting significance, and to bow in humble but joyful worship.

Mary and Joseph asked the Magi about their pilgrimage, so they heard about the curious beginning. There had been a rare star, but their astrological studies gave no hints about its meaning. Then came the unmistakable message: God had set this star in the heavens to guide them to where the king of the Jews would be born.

That they heard from Persia. From the Temple in Jerusalem they heard a broader message. Simeon prophesied that the rule of Jesus would not just be of the Jews but of all the Gentile nations. He would be a light to the nations. From their Scriptures, Isaiah declared that the government of the world would be his, that he would rule with righteousness and justice, that he would be the world’s Prince of Peace.

Mary and Joseph met an enlarged vision of the Almighty, of his love and purpose, and of the role of the baby whom they now recognized as the Messiah. The shape was shadowy, the outline was elusive, but the direction was clear. This baby was to be the ruler of a world without boundaries, of all the nations of the world.

Now let’s transpose this visit from the home of Mary and Joseph to a representative gathering of Christ’s followers today. The knock on the door has come. Those standing outside are not Persian astrologers but they are like them: people who do not have their own church and haven’t had means to hear the gospel.

Some may be refugees who have left violence, poverty, and destruction—Muslims leaving persecution, Syrians leaving destruction, Hindus leaving fear and poverty. Others are isolated ethnic groups stranded in their territory but living out the downward path under the evil rule of gods and dictators and perpetrators.

They are standing there, waiting for some response from us.

We listen and we do want them to know how we respect them. We can offer help alongside other agencies. Do they need housing? Documents? Food? But beyond that, well, this is not an easy fit. The language is so strange, their ways of thinking so unfamiliar. To introduce them to the Christian message, where would we start? And who is qualified to take this on? Besides, don’t they have their own religion?

In addition—and we do hope you will understand—we are just emerging from COVID-19.  We are having to deal with abrupt changes, with divisions within our gathering, figuring out inclusivity, and facing significant slides in attendance and income.

Really, our plate is full, our hands are tied. Just not a good time. We do respect you and do honor your ways and your faith walk. But this is not a good fit. We do hope you understand.

Meanwhile, of course, within the gathering, some sagacious heads make comments to the gathering that lift all this to a spiritual plane. Something perceptive about feelings of powerlessness, of meeting new perspectives, of disappointing others. A thoughtful transition, allowing us to move on.

With the omission of the Persians, without re-ordering priorities, accepting our barriers and challenges, of course our mission and vision are in place. Of course.