Here's a number worth sitting with: 1,583.
That's how many people groups across Asia Pacific are so underserved by the gospel that, as things stand, the people who speak those languages will likely live their whole lives and never once meet a Christian. Not reject the gospel—never even encounter it.
That number used to be 1,584. This is the story of how it changed, and of the question it leaves at the feet of every follower of Jesus.
On the island of Pentecost in the South Pacific, there's a tribe called the northern Sa, famous for a ceremony where men leap from hundred-foot towers with only vines tied to their ankles—an appeal to the yam god for a good harvest. For years, missionaries trekked those mountains, ran healthcare clinics, responded to disasters, and prayed. Slowly, a church took root. On the day the first church building opened—dirt floor, bamboo benches, a shaft of light falling across an open Bible—a young man rose from the back of the churchyard, walked straight to the altar, and stood there weeping in repentance as the light struck his face. One language, joining the family of the redeemed. 1,584 became 1,583.
Two months later, the rest of the tribe burned the church to the ground and drove the new believers out. But here's what one of the first converts, a chief, later told the men who'd burned it: "You burned down our church. But everywhere the ashes fell, another church has sprung up. So you are welcome to burn any of these churches you'd like." Today there are fourteen churches and six Christian schools in South Pentecost.
As long as one language has never been used to whisper the name of Jesus, we have not done enough—because missions was never about some of the nations. It's all for Jesus.
As long as one language has never been used to whisper the name of Jesus, we have not done enough—because missions was never about some of the nations. It’s all for Jesus.
It's All for Jesus
Start at the end of the story—the scene John describes in heaven:
"And they sang a new song, saying, 'Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation.'" (Revelation 5:9, ESV)
Read that carefully, because it tells us what God's plan has always been: the redemption of every tribe, every language, every people, every nation. The grand finale of all history is a vast, multinational, every-language throng around the throne of Jesus, rejoicing that they've been ransomed by His blood. That's the plan. And God has no plan B—no second-best option that will do instead.
So it's worth asking honestly: what is your view of missions? Is it planting one more church? Taking a trip somewhere to eat unfamiliar food and help people whose standard of living falls beneath ours? None of those are wrong. But any view of missions content with anything less than people redeemed out of every nation—anything short of every human language being used to worship the King—falls short of God's own view of it. Entrusted with all power, Christ sent us to all nations, to baptize all who believe, and to teach them to obey all He commanded. It's all or nothing.
And maybe you're thinking, surely I've done enough. As long as one language has never whispered the name of Jesus, as long as one tribe remains outside the family of the redeemed—then no. We have not given enough, sent enough, or gone enough. Not yet.
The Nations Already Belong to Jesus
There's a second truth underneath the first, and it's staggering. These unreached peoples aren't a wish or a long shot. They already belong to Jesus. Listen to Him pray on the night before the cross:
"I have manifested your name to the people whom you gave me out of the world. Yours they were, and you gave them to me." (John 17:6, ESV)
You gave them to me. Somewhere in eternity past, the Father promised the nations to the Son as His inheritance—"Ask of me, and I will make the nations your heritage" (Psalm 2:8). And there was a terrible price attached to that promise. Six hundred years before Jesus was born, Isaiah described not only His suffering but His satisfaction: "Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied" (Isaiah 53:11). Every time a man or woman is redeemed out of a new tribe or tongue, the Son is satisfied in what His suffering purchased.
Picture it on a beach in the South Pacific at sunrise—a volcano throwing glowing lava into the sky on one horizon, the sun rising on the other, steam drifting off hot springs into the bay—and new believers being baptized in a village where there had never been a church of any kind. When it was over, they gathered in a circle and sang worship to Jesus in their own language for the first time. That sound—one more language joining the redeemed—is the sound the Savior suffered to hear. The nations are not ours to win for ourselves. They are His, bought with His own blood, and our job is simply to go and claim for the King what He already paid for.
So I Give All for Jesus
If missions is all for Jesus, and if every tribe and tongue already belongs to Jesus, then the only fitting response is that missions becomes all of us, for Jesus. Paul put it as plainly as it can be put:
"I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." (Galatians 2:20, ESV)
Having been personally redeemed, we simply owe Him everything—and we get to choose to give Him our all. Paul asked in Romans 10: how can they call on someone they've never believed in? How can they believe in someone they've never heard of? How can they hear without a preacher? And how can anyone preach unless they're sent? It really is that simple. Going requires senders to send. Fulfilling the mission requires some to go.
A century ago, a young man named William Borden, heir to a fortune, felt God calling him to the mission field. Told he was throwing his life away, he wrote two words in the front of his Bible: No reserves. Turning down every high-paying opportunity his father arranged, he added two more: No retreats. Dying of meningitis in Egypt, en route to a people he would never even reach, he wrote his last two: No regrets. You can still read all six words on his tombstone. And they hold a promise worth staking a life on: if you give all to Jesus with no reserves and no retreats, you will have no regrets.
So come back to that number: 1,583.
Thank God it's no longer 1,584. Thank God for fourteen churches, six schools, and over a thousand believers where there were none. But 1,583 people groups remain—families who, for all of human history, have stayed outside the family of the redeemed—so underserved that the people who speak those languages will never meet a Christian.
What will you do about them? What if you picked one? What if you were the Christian they finally met? What if you and God together changed that number to 1,582?
Everything necessary for the redemption of every person everywhere has already been paid. What's lacking isn't the power of the gospel. What's lacking is someone willing to go. The invitation isn't to sign your life away today—it's simpler and bigger than that. It's to hand Jesus a blank contract: Lord, I'll sign my name at the bottom. You fill in the where, the when, and the cost later. Today, you have my unqualified yes.
Share this with someone this week.
Most of us have never heard a number like 1,583 and had to sit with it. Send this to a friend who's been sensing God stir something bigger in them—a restlessness about their comfortable life, a tug toward something that costs more—and let them hear that the nations already belong to Jesus and He's simply looking for someone to go. Or share it with someone who thinks missions is only for "called" professionals, and remind them that going requires senders too—that a yes can look like going, or like sending those who do. Sometimes the most important thing you can hand a person is a number they can't unsee.
What are you going to do about it?
Read Revelation 5:9, John 17:6, and Galatians 2:20 slowly this week — once a day if you can. Let the three truths settle: the nations are all for Jesus, they already belong to Jesus, and so your life is all for Jesus. Then ask honestly: Is my view of missions as big as God's—or have I quietly settled for something less than every tribe and tongue? And: What would it look like to hand Jesus a blank contract this week—to say yes before I know the cost? Pick one concrete response: commit to pray for one unreached people group by name, give toward those who go, or take the step you've been avoiding and simply tell God, if you ask, I will go.
About Our Current Series
Prayer can be powerful, personal, confusing, and sometimes even frustrating. In “God, Are You Listening?”, we’re having an honest conversation about the questions many of us have when it comes to prayer. Over 6-weeks, we’ll explore how to talk with God, how to hear His voice, what happens when we pray, and how to trust Him when His answers aren’t what we hoped for or when He seems silent. Because prayer isn’t about having all the right words or all the answers; it’s about growing in relationship with a God who knows us, loves us, and invites us to keep talking with Him.