Strangers Become Family

Pastor Dennis Miller | December 15, 2025

Christmas has a way of bringing familiar stories back into focus. We hear them year after year, and yet there are moments when a detail we’ve overlooked suddenly feels fresh, even unsettling—in a good way. One of those details for me is found in Matthew chapter 2, in a part of the Christmas story we don’t always slow down to explore: the visit of the Magi.

From the very beginning, Jesus’ story pushes beyond borders.

Matthew tells us that after Jesus was born in Bethlehem, “magi from the east came to Jerusalem.” That simple sentence would have jumped off the page for Matthew’s original Jewish readers. These men—and likely women as well—were not insiders. They weren’t Jewish. They didn’t share the same language, culture, or religious background. They were foreigners. Outsiders. And yet, they were searching for the King of the Jews.

The word “magi” itself isn’t Hebrew at all. It’s Persian. It refers to astrologers—people who studied the stars. These were individuals from Babylon or Persia, likely modern-day Iraq, who traveled nearly a thousand miles to find a child they believed had been born to rule. This wasn’t a quick trip or a spontaneous decision. It would have taken weeks, maybe months, traveling in caravans across deserts and mountains. It was costly, dangerous, and inconvenient.

And yet they came.

Tradition tells us there were three wise men, mostly because of the three gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. But Scripture never gives us a number. There may have been many more. What we do know is that they didn’t arrive at the stable the night Jesus was born, as our nativity scenes suggest. Matthew tells us they entered a house and saw the child—not a newborn in a manger. This likely happened months, maybe even up to two years later.

But the timing isn’t the point.

What grips me is the question: how did these foreigners even know to come?

The answer stretches all the way back to the Old Testament. Centuries earlier, when Babylon conquered Judah, some of Israel’s brightest young leaders were taken into exile. One of them was Daniel. Daniel rose to prominence by interpreting dreams for King Nebuchadnezzar, and Scripture tells us he was placed in charge of all the wise men of Babylon.

I can’t help but imagine Daniel, surrounded by astrologers and scholars, pointing to the heavens and saying, “Let me tell you who created those stars.” Daniel prophesied about the coming Messiah—hundreds of years before Jesus was born. It’s not hard to believe that those prophecies were passed down, generation after generation, until one day, descendants of those wise men saw a star rise and knew: this is it.

God was already at work—long before anyone realized it.

That’s what the Magi remind us of. Jesus was born for everyone. Not just insiders. Not just the religious. Not just the polished and put-together. He was born for the far away, the forgotten, the foreign.

So many people wander through life wondering if they truly belong. They carry questions like: Would God really accept me? I don’t know the Bible like others do. I have a past. I’m damaged goods. I don’t fit the mold.

The Magi answer those questions without saying a word.

They show us that from the very beginning, Jesus came for outsiders. And if we’re honest, most of us are outsiders too. We are Gentiles—grafted into God’s family by grace. The Christmas story doesn’t invite us to stand at a distance. It pulls us in.

I think about distance a lot. As a kid, I remember calling one of those old 1-800 numbers where you could find out how many miles you were from the North Pole. Some kids were genuinely distressed by the idea that Santa was so far away. But as adults, we wrestle with deeper distances—not physical ones, but spiritual ones. How far am I from God? Have I gone too far? Have I crossed a line that can’t be undone?

Here’s the good news: even though the Magi traveled a thousand miles to find Jesus, God traveled infinitely farther to reach us. The Son of God left the throne of heaven and stepped into our world. Emmanuel—God with us. If we take even one step toward Him, God runs toward us. We see it in the story of the prodigal son. The father doesn’t wait with crossed arms. He runs.

Jesus was born for everyone.

But the story doesn’t stop there. The Magi also show us something else: God welcomes the foreigner—and so must we.

God spoke to the Magi in a language they understood. He used a star, because stars were their world. That tells me something important: God meets people where they are. He always has. And if our hearts are open, He’s still speaking today.

In our world, the word “foreigner” often comes loaded with fear. But Christmas flips that script. The inclusion of the Magi isn’t a side note—it’s central to the story. “For God so loved the world.” Not part of the world. The whole world.

Scripture challenges us to live that out. Hebrews tells us not to forget to show hospitality to strangers, because in doing so, we may be entertaining angels without knowing it. I’ve thought about that often, especially when I’ve traveled.

A couple of years ago, I spent time alone in Newfoundland. For a week, I was a stranger—an outsider, the only American most people I met had seen in days. Locals had a phrase for people like me: “come from away.” You’re not from here—but you’re welcome. I was invited to dinners, music nights, conversations with people whose accents I could barely understand. I arrived alone, but I was welcomed in.

That experience reminded me of something deeply spiritual. Jesus is the Savior of outsiders—and He became one Himself. He crossed the greatest border imaginable, from heaven to earth, so none of us would be left out.

That’s why our ultimate allegiance isn’t to a flag, but to a manger. We can love our country deeply and still remember that our primary citizenship is in the Kingdom of God. We are, in many ways, aliens passing through—called to live differently.

That calling shows up in how we give, how we serve, and how we welcome. It’s why I believe so strongly in generosity that reaches beyond our walls—locally and globally. When we give to people we may never meet, when we care for those who live under very different circumstances, we reflect the heart of Jesus.

As Christmas approaches, I find myself asking a personal question—and I want to invite you to ask it too: who is the “foreigner” in my life?

It might be someone from another nation. Or someone who thinks differently than I do. Maybe it’s the coworker no one talks to, the neighbor who feels distant, or the family member whose beliefs are foreign to mine. God may be calling us to turn strangers into friends, and friends into family.

Because here’s the truth: God may be calling you to be a star.

The Magi followed a star to Jesus. This Advent, the world doesn’t need more walls—it needs more stars. People who shine light. People who cross the cul-de-sac. People who choose hospitality over fear.

Jesus crossed every border to find us. Now, we’re invited to do the same—so that others might find Him, because they found us.