By Tyler Tankersley

One of the last classes I had to take in college was an astronomy course. I was excited because I thought it was going to consist of engaging in some actual star-gazing. Instead, it was just about calculating the density of Jupiter and the average number of days in a year on Neptune. It was just a stupid old math class!

But not long after that class, we were visiting some family in Texas and my wife's uncle pulled out his telescope. He made some adjustments and told me to look into the eyepiece. There before me was a crisp, beautiful picture of Saturn.

We don't often think of them as such, but the magi were the astronomers of their day. We read in Matthew 2:1-12 that they noticed an unidentified celestial body in the sky. They were compelled to follow it to see where it led. The Gospel of Matthew was written to a primarily Jewish audience, and it certainly would have struck Matthew's original readers as odd that some of the first people to understand the significance of Jesus' birth were a band of Persian astrologers.

But, then again, that's a common theme in the Bible: It is often those we least expect who seem to be the ones who most understand who Jesus is. It is often those on the outside, those on the margin, who embrace Christ before the insiders can even figure out what is going on.

What always has struck me as interesting about the magi was their willingness to follow this star, even though they had no idea where it might lead them.

Some people come to faith not through a study of theology or compelling sermons, but through an honest exploration of nature. That is essentially what the magi were doing: they were embarking on a journey toward the mystery, and it led them to the home of the Christ Child.

Church folks can sometimes forget our job is not to provide simple answers for life's complex questions. We need to admit that our own faith is one of mystery, paradox and tension. What many people are longing for is to see churches embrace that mystery. People are longing to see churches serve as stars in the community who point to Jesus. We don't explain him away, but we simply say, "Hey! Here he is! Come, meet him, and be changed!"

Albert Einstein said, "The most beautiful emotion we can experience is the mystical. It is the source of all true art and science. The one to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead."

I wonder ... if perhaps more of us sometimes need a wondering, wandering faith. A faith that simply rests in the midst of our questions, doubts and struggles. A faith that is slow to speak and quick to listen. A faith that doesn't try to explain, but simply is attuned to hear the voice of God in our lives and in the lives of others. I wonder.