Introduction

One of my favorite books is one of Dr. Seuss' lesser-known stories, The Sneetches. In case you don't remember the story, the Sneetches are tall, yellow creatures who live on beaches. In Seuss' story these creatures are divided into two groups: those who have green stars on their bellies, and those who don't have green stars. The green-starred Sneetches comprise the "in-crowd." They build exclusive campfires around which they sing their little songs. The Sneetches without green stars on their bellies are the outsiders. They are the losers.

But one day, "a fix-it-up chappy" named Sylvester McMonkey McBean comes to town with a strange contraption called a Star-On machine. For a mere three dollars, Sneetches can line up and get green stars on their bellies. Naturally, all the no-star Sneetches jump at this chance. The in-crowd Sneetches are no longer distinct; this upsets them very much. But Sylvester McMonkey McBean also has a Star-Off machine. For ten dollars you can get your star, which defined you as an "in" person, removed, thus distinguishing yourself anew. This back-and-forth escalates until, as Dr. Seuss says, "Neither the Plain nor the Star -Bellies knew whether this one was that one or that one was this one or which one was what one or what one was who."

This little parable reveals a profound truth about our relationship with God and our relationships with other people—about the agony of being excluded and about the thrill and sometimes snobbery of being included. C. S. Lewis also wrote about this reality of inclusion and exclusion in his essay "The Inner Ring." He said this:

You discover gradually in almost indefinable ways that it [this inner ring of inclusion and exclusion] exists and that you are outside it; and then later, perhaps, you are inside it. … It is not easy, even at a given moment, to say who is inside and who is outside. Some people are obviously in and some are obviously out, but there are always several on the borderline. … People think they are in after they have in fact been pushed out of it, or before they have been allowed in; this provides great amusement for those who are really inside. It has no fixed name. From outside, if you have despaired of getting into it, you call it "That gang" or "They" or "So-and-so and his set" or "The Caucus" or "The Inner Ring." … I believe that in all of our lives at certain periods and in many of our lives at all periods between infancy and extreme old age, one of the most dominant elements is the drive to be inside the local Ring and the terror of being left outside of it.

We're all familiar with the glory of being in and the agony of being out. Our story today from the Gospel of Matthew is going to introduce us to the gospel: a radically new way to be in with God through Christ, and a radically new way for those who are in with God to treat those who are not yet in with God or don't know how to get in with God. The gospel is a radically new way to be centered in Christ while still being radically inclusive of others.

The historical background to this story

As we get into the story of Jesus' human birth, I want to give some historical background. First, where did this star come from? There are several potential astrological explanations for this bright light: Haley's comet appeared around 12 B.C., Jupiter and Saturn were in alignment three times around 7 B.C., a star exploded in 5 B.C. In addition, Matthew, who is writing this account, is a thoroughly Jewish writer and likely had a verse from the Old Testament in the back of mind: "A star shall come out of Jacob [or Israel] and a scepter shall rise out of Israel" (Numbers 24:17). Though we don't know exactly what the star was, we know that the Gospel writers weren't making up fanciful stories to entertain religious people. They were telling us real history. They were telling us about things that really happened. God in his sovereign grace used this natural phenomenon to draw magi from the East to embark on a search.

And who were these magi? They were probably magicians, astrologers, and interpreters of dreams from Persia or Babylon. (By the way, the Bible never says there were only three of them.) These people were thoughtful observers of stars and planets, and they probably combined two disciplines that we keep very separate—astronomy and astrology. They would have noticed these strange events in the heavens and tried to interpret them.

Through telling this historical story, Matthew is also telling us what the gospel is all about. Who is this newborn King Jesus, and how does he define our lives? What's so interesting here is that these astrologers, these astronomers and magi were clearly outsiders. Though we remember their presence with warmth during Christmas, they were actually "bad people." They were plain and simple, idolaters. They worshiped a false God.

The Book of Isaiah, which is often quoted in the Gospel of Matthew, talks about these astrologers and astronomers. In this passage about the fall of Babylon, Isaiah basically mocks these magi:

Keep on, then, with your magic spells and with your many sorceries, which you have labored at since childhood. Perhaps you will succeed, perhaps you will cause terror. All the counsel you have received has only worn you out! Let your astrologers come forward, these stargazers who make predictions month by month, let them save you from what is coming upon you. Surely they are like stubble; the fire will burn them up. They cannot even save themselves from the power of the flame. These are not coals for warmth; this is not a fire to sit by.

It's clear that the nation of Israel didn't like these astrologers; they were plain and simple outsiders. And yet, these magi who were outsiders by race and profession and lifestyle—the least deserving of people to come to Jesus' birthday party—show up. And Matthew, this very Jewish Gospel writer, basically treats these people as heroes of faith for showing up. Three times we're told that these outsiders come and worship Jesus, while the insiders—the religious leaders, scholars, and scribes of the Bible who know all the right the information—don't worship Jesus. They don't seek him.

This is not a nice story. This is a shocking, scandalous story that is so powerful, so life-altering, so exciting, so new and inspiring, it will completely change the way we approach the living God, and it will change the way we form a new community in Christ. This is a story of the gospel in a nutshell. It's a story of grace: the declaration of grace; an invitation to grace; and a warning for insiders to keep sharing God's grace.

The declaration of grace

The magi were walking illustrations of the reach of God's mercy—for outsiders, for sinners, for oddballs, for the undeserving, for irregular people. God chooses them, leads them, and woos them. God uses the very thing that these men worshiped—a star—to lead them to Christ. Just think about God's mercy in this—to use our idols to lead us to Christ. God is very creative. God is very good.

But he doesn't just use the star. We see here that he also uses Holy Scripture. God's Word becomes the final authority as the religious leaders declare, "We have some promises in the Old Testament about where the Messiah's going to be born. We know something about this." Ultimately, it is the Bible and not just a natural phenomenon that leads these people to Christ. The most degraded people were God's first guests at the historical unveiling of his Son, Jesus. This is a theme that occurs over and over again in Matthew's Gospel. He wants us to know from the very beginning that the gospel is a declaration of God's grace to all people on the face of the earth.

Matthew 9:9-11 provides another example in the Gospel of Matthew of God's inclusion and embrace and pursuit of outsiders. Jesus was being criticized for hanging out and eating meals with the wrong kind of people. He responds to this criticism by saying, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick." Then he tells the religious leaders, the insiders, "Go and learn what this means. 'I desire mercy not sacrifice,' for I have not come to call the righteous but sinners." The righteous were those who didn't think they needed mercy, because they were on the inside. The outsiders knew their need for mercy. Those are the only two classifications: people who don't think they need mercy and people who know they need mercy. Jesus said: "I'm going after the people who know they need mercy. That's who I'm going to choose." It is a declaration of God's grace.

Some people say that God helps those who help themselves, but that is not in the Bible. The German poet Goethe said, "Whoever strives with all his power" can be saved. That's not the gospel. The Bible teaches if that we find God, it's only because he first sought us; if we're seeking Christ, it's only because he is wooing us; if we love God at all, it's because he first loved us; if we choose to accept Christ, it's because prior to that, he chose us. That is the declaration of grace.

The invitation to grace

There is, however, an invitation to God's grace. This gets a lot more personal, because we could just intellectualize the declaration and leave it at that. The invitation means that God wants me and God wants you to come and experience grace in Christ.

Rob Bell, a pastor in Michigan, tells two stories back to back that reveal something about us and our culture and the human condition. The first story takes place in Africa and came from an anthropologist named Vincent Donovan. Donovan studied the Maasai tribe, a very fierce, nomadic people who have resisted cultural changes and tried to maintain their cultural identity. There was a Maasai man who would refuse to participate in any of the tribal gatherings, always standing off to the side and watching. At one point Donovan went up to him and said, "How come you never engage in the community? How come you never participate?" The man replied, "Awhile ago I did something terrible that was a great offense to my community. The Maasai people have no way for me to get back into the community, so I will be an outsider. I don't belong anymore. I'm not an insider."

Rob Bell follows this story with another one. A woman and her husband were talking to Rob, and the woman was explaining why she didn't feel comfortable coming to church. She said, "You know, I did something terrible that I can't really tell you about. I'm just really ashamed. I had this moral failure in my life, and I just don't feel like I belong anymore." Her husband stood there nodding his head like, Yeah, she really screwed up. Both of them had basically decided that she was not fit anymore to be there.

Rob Bell noted, "You know, in these cases, the primitive African man and the sophisticated American woman are really not that different. We are all people who need an invitation to experience grace, especially when we've messed up and failed."

The truth is that the gospel is not first about inclusion. The first message of the gospel is bad news. It says we're all excluded. We're all outsiders. None of us deserve to get in. That is the bad news of the gospel. And often, when people read the Book of Romans where it says we are enemies of Christ, they say, "But I'm not an enemy. I don't have anything against God." Yet that's how the Bible describes us—as fugitives and rebels from God's grace; we are outside of where he is. But the good news of the gospel is that God has provided a radical new and free and open and loving way for us who are outsiders and rebels and fugitives from God's grace to get in. This new way is through the grace of Jesus Christ.

To God we're all like Sneetches without stars. We're all outsiders. But Ephesians 2 says this: "But now in Christ Jesus, you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ." The Maasai culture didn't have a way to get this man back inside their fellowship. That married couple didn't think they had a way to get the wife back in the fellowship of the church. And those of us who know our sin and our rebellion against God wonder, How do I get back in? Well, God has provided the way, and it's through and in Christ. He has provided the way to get back in. Ephesians says, "It is by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not from yourselves"— you didn't do it, you can't figure out how to get back in—" … it is the gift of God, not by works, so that no one can boast. You are God's workmanship created in Christ Jesus to do good works." You're created to do good works, but the good works can't make you right with God.

The amazing thing we learn from the magi in this gospel story is that there are no longer any conditions. There are no conditions to define you as unworthy or disqualified or excluded. You might feel excluded by some colossal moral failure or persistent, habitual sin you can't seem to overcome. You might feel defined by some experience of rejection in the past. But the gospel says, "No! Absolutely not! Don't let anything like that define you. Don't let your failures define you. Don't let your sin define you. Don't let what other people have said about you or thought about you or done to you define you. You're no longer a lost, excluded sinner. You're no longer a victim of what other people have done to you. You are a recipient of God's grace. That is ultimately what defines you."

Awhile ago, the Roman Catholic archdiocese of New York ran a series of advertisements on posters all over the city. The posters were decorated for Christmas and had this simple caption: "Come Home." I loved these posters because they were so gospel oriented. No matter where you've been or who you've been with, and no matter what you've been up to or how long you've been away, come home. That's the invitation of the gospel. Coming home is what the Bible calls faith. Having faith means I accept the invitation of grace. I accept God's word and I will come home.

A warning to keep sharing grace

The last thing we find in this passage is a warning to keep sharing grace; it's a warning against complacency. We see that it's the religious leaders in this passage—the scholars, those who know the Bible, the classic insiders—who do not seek Christ. These people quote Scripture, but they do not hunger and thirst. They don't leave their place of security to travel and worship Christ.

Matthew writes his gospel to a particular group of people—those who had primarily come out of Jewish backgrounds and who had accepted Christ as their Savior. His audience consisted of those who made up the religious establishment of the early church. And how easy it is for us who have become the religious establishment, who control the resources, who have the knowledge, to commit the terrible sin of taking Jesus and grace for granted. I think that's one of the things Matthew wants to shock us with here: don't take grace for granted. The pagan outsiders seek. They leave their comfort and security. They give everything for this journey. Three times it says they pay homage to and worship Jesus. They are filled with joy in finding the newborn king. Meanwhile, the insiders—King Herod with his political power and the religious establishment, the senior pastors and Bible scholars—don't seek. I think Matthew wants us to see our potential for spiritual pride, spiritual smugness, complacency, boredom, coldness of heart. These are the common and chronic sins of religious insiders.

As insiders we will always have two pulls in our hearts when we encounter something that is truly sinful or bad or revolting. There's the pull of disgust, and there's the pull of mercy. The pull of disgust says, Ugh, that's ugly. That's wrong. That's morally repugnant. That lifestyle is awful. That thing that person is doing is wrong. The Bible never tells us to banish that awareness from our heart. We should maintain a sense of what is disgusting and revolting to God. Some things truly are an abomination; there is real evil in the world. But at the same time, there's this pull of mercy; the pull of mercy shelters the sinner. Mercy sees someone's naked brokenness, and it puts a blanket over that person. Mercy longs to comfort the sinner and heal the brokenhearted. The insider's task is not to lose a sense of what is wrong but to let mercy triumph over it.

As parents, we face this all the time with our children. We judge that some behavior is unacceptable and we discipline appropriately, but we must always then claim and express our unconditional love for our children. Mercy triumphs over judgment. Judgment still exists, but mercy is even greater. That's what Jesus did. That's how he lived his life. When Jesus died on the cross, he didn't just sweep our sin under the rug. He actually exposed it for how bad it really is, but then he bore it, and he covered our sin with his mercy.

Conclusion

Where do you see yourself? You may feel more like an outsider than an insider, and if you do, I invite you to come home. Maybe you feel more like an insider, and your heart has become smug or proud or complacent. To you I say this: let the mercy of Christ break your heart wide open again.

Matt Woodley is the pastor of compassion ministries at Church of the Resurrection in Wheaton, Illinois.