The Cost
The Cost of the Harvest: Why 3.5 Billion People Still Wait
There's a sobering reality that confronts us when we look at the state of global Christianity today: after nearly 2,000 years since the establishment of the church, 42% of the world still has very little witness of the gospel. That's 3.5 billion people. More than 7,000 distinct people groups remain unreached, and among those, over 2,000 have never met a Christian, have no Scripture in their language, and have zero access to the good news of Jesus Christ.
The question isn't whether these people deserve to hear the gospel. We all instinctively know the answer is yes. The real question is: why are we still here, two millennia later, with such an incomplete task?
The Promise That Should Move Us
Jesus made an extraordinary declaration in Matthew 24:14: "This gospel of the kingdom will be proclaimed throughout the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come."
Notice the certainty in His words. This isn't a suggestion or a hopeful prediction—it's a guarantee. The gospel *will* reach every nation. Every ethnic group. Every corner of creation. And here's the remarkable part: our obedience to the Great Commission is somehow connected to the return of Christ. We aren't just passive observers waiting for the end times; we're active participants whose faithfulness hastens that glorious day.
This means that when we pray "Thy kingdom come," we're not just reciting words. We're volunteering to be part of the answer to that prayer.
The Stories That Break Our Hearts
Consider Mehmet and Aisha, a well-to-do couple with everything the world says should bring satisfaction. Yet they felt an emptiness that prosperity couldn't fill. They turned to the only God they knew—the God of Islam—and became devout in their practice. They went on the Hajj to Mecca. They held Quranic studies in their home. They did everything right according to their faith. But the emptiness persisted because they were crying out to a God who cannot hear.
Do they deserve to hear about Jesus?
Or think about Shanti, a street sweeper who walks hours to town just to sell what little she can grow, constantly hungry, constantly striving. She used to complain to her husband until his anger and violence silenced her. Now she cries out to a God she's not even sure can hear her, asking how long her suffering will last.
Does she deserve to hear the gospel?
The answer, of course, is a resounding yes. But here's the uncomfortable truth: we decide every day that certain people don't deserve to hear. They're too rich. Too poor. Too old. Too young. Too hostile. Too comfortable. We become soil testers instead of seed sowers, forgetting that it's not our job to determine who will receive the message—only to scatter the seed.
The Prayer That Changes Everything
There's a powerful story about a woman named Anahid who made a commitment as a young girl: she would not lay her head on her pillow at night until she had shared the gospel with at least one person who didn't know Jesus. She kept track from childhood, and before she died from breast cancer, she had personally shared with 25,000 people in an Islamic country where such evangelism was dangerous.
One night, after an exhausting pastors' conference, she and her husband Edward were ready for bed when she realized she hadn't shared with anyone that day—only Christians. Despite her husband's protest that she could just share with two people the next day, she insisted on going back out into the night streets to find someone.
They found an old man at an all-night juice bar—the kind of man who looked like trouble, complete with traditional Islamic dress and prayer beads. Edward's instinct was to avoid him. Sharing the gospel with someone like that could mean arrest, church closure, persecution. But Anahid had heard from the Lord.
When Edward reluctantly approached the man and offered him a Bible, saying "Jesus loves you," the old man began to weep. "All my life, I've wanted one of these," he said. "I wasn't even sure if it existed. Can you tell me more about Jesus?"
The gospel advances through sacrifice, not safety.
The Cost We're Called to Pay
We live in a risk-averse society, more interested in protecting what we have than in advancing the kingdom. We've become defensive when Jesus called us to storm the gates of hell itself. After all, gates don't attack anyone—they defend. When Jesus said "the gates of hell will not prevail against it," He was calling His church to go on the offense, to take people out of darkness and bring them into His glorious light.
Here's the reality: we will see a greater harvest than ever before, but it will come at a greater cost than we have ever paid.
Consider the missionary family who entered a country claiming to be 100% Muslim. They planted churches and shared Christ until the father was taken by secret police. Normally, in such situations, missionaries aren't seen again for years, if ever. But within 48 hours, he was released—only God knows how.
Or the church planting team trapped by a civil war, unable to leave their locations for two weeks until they were miraculously evacuated across a desert and onto a Saudi Arabian warship to safety.
Or the family threatened with arrest for their evangelism, told their crimes would make their children orphans—only to later be invited back by the same government to continue their work.
These aren't ancient stories. These happened in the last few years. And the beautiful part isn't just that these missionaries survived—it's that they left behind thriving, multiplying churches that no longer needed them. The kingdom advanced.
What This Means for Us
We all have a role to play in completing the Great Commission. It starts with prayer—not the "bless the missionaries" kind, but the kind where we allow our hearts to break over the 3.5 billion who haven't heard. The kind where we put ourselves in the center of the prayer and ask God how He wants to use us.
We must give sacrificially. Our spending reveals our priorities. If we can find money for what we truly care about, then the question is whether God's mission is truly our priority.
And some must go. Not everyone is called to cross-cultural missions, but far more are called than actually answer. The reason 3.5 billion people remain unreached isn't because God isn't calling people to go—it's because too many are saying no.
The harvest is coming. God is moving around the world in unprecedented ways. But the gospel advances through sacrifice, not safety. The question is: will we be part of the generation that finally completes the task? Will we hasten the return of Christ through our obedience?
Being lost isn't a spectrum—you're either lost or you're not. And lost is lost, whether you're in Kentucky or the mountains of Nepal. Everyone deserves to hear. The only question is: will we tell them?
There's a sobering reality that confronts us when we look at the state of global Christianity today: after nearly 2,000 years since the establishment of the church, 42% of the world still has very little witness of the gospel. That's 3.5 billion people. More than 7,000 distinct people groups remain unreached, and among those, over 2,000 have never met a Christian, have no Scripture in their language, and have zero access to the good news of Jesus Christ.
The question isn't whether these people deserve to hear the gospel. We all instinctively know the answer is yes. The real question is: why are we still here, two millennia later, with such an incomplete task?
The Promise That Should Move Us
Jesus made an extraordinary declaration in Matthew 24:14: "This gospel of the kingdom will be proclaimed throughout the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come."
Notice the certainty in His words. This isn't a suggestion or a hopeful prediction—it's a guarantee. The gospel *will* reach every nation. Every ethnic group. Every corner of creation. And here's the remarkable part: our obedience to the Great Commission is somehow connected to the return of Christ. We aren't just passive observers waiting for the end times; we're active participants whose faithfulness hastens that glorious day.
This means that when we pray "Thy kingdom come," we're not just reciting words. We're volunteering to be part of the answer to that prayer.
The Stories That Break Our Hearts
Consider Mehmet and Aisha, a well-to-do couple with everything the world says should bring satisfaction. Yet they felt an emptiness that prosperity couldn't fill. They turned to the only God they knew—the God of Islam—and became devout in their practice. They went on the Hajj to Mecca. They held Quranic studies in their home. They did everything right according to their faith. But the emptiness persisted because they were crying out to a God who cannot hear.
Do they deserve to hear about Jesus?
Or think about Shanti, a street sweeper who walks hours to town just to sell what little she can grow, constantly hungry, constantly striving. She used to complain to her husband until his anger and violence silenced her. Now she cries out to a God she's not even sure can hear her, asking how long her suffering will last.
Does she deserve to hear the gospel?
The answer, of course, is a resounding yes. But here's the uncomfortable truth: we decide every day that certain people don't deserve to hear. They're too rich. Too poor. Too old. Too young. Too hostile. Too comfortable. We become soil testers instead of seed sowers, forgetting that it's not our job to determine who will receive the message—only to scatter the seed.
The Prayer That Changes Everything
There's a powerful story about a woman named Anahid who made a commitment as a young girl: she would not lay her head on her pillow at night until she had shared the gospel with at least one person who didn't know Jesus. She kept track from childhood, and before she died from breast cancer, she had personally shared with 25,000 people in an Islamic country where such evangelism was dangerous.
One night, after an exhausting pastors' conference, she and her husband Edward were ready for bed when she realized she hadn't shared with anyone that day—only Christians. Despite her husband's protest that she could just share with two people the next day, she insisted on going back out into the night streets to find someone.
They found an old man at an all-night juice bar—the kind of man who looked like trouble, complete with traditional Islamic dress and prayer beads. Edward's instinct was to avoid him. Sharing the gospel with someone like that could mean arrest, church closure, persecution. But Anahid had heard from the Lord.
When Edward reluctantly approached the man and offered him a Bible, saying "Jesus loves you," the old man began to weep. "All my life, I've wanted one of these," he said. "I wasn't even sure if it existed. Can you tell me more about Jesus?"
The gospel advances through sacrifice, not safety.
The Cost We're Called to Pay
We live in a risk-averse society, more interested in protecting what we have than in advancing the kingdom. We've become defensive when Jesus called us to storm the gates of hell itself. After all, gates don't attack anyone—they defend. When Jesus said "the gates of hell will not prevail against it," He was calling His church to go on the offense, to take people out of darkness and bring them into His glorious light.
Here's the reality: we will see a greater harvest than ever before, but it will come at a greater cost than we have ever paid.
Consider the missionary family who entered a country claiming to be 100% Muslim. They planted churches and shared Christ until the father was taken by secret police. Normally, in such situations, missionaries aren't seen again for years, if ever. But within 48 hours, he was released—only God knows how.
Or the church planting team trapped by a civil war, unable to leave their locations for two weeks until they were miraculously evacuated across a desert and onto a Saudi Arabian warship to safety.
Or the family threatened with arrest for their evangelism, told their crimes would make their children orphans—only to later be invited back by the same government to continue their work.
These aren't ancient stories. These happened in the last few years. And the beautiful part isn't just that these missionaries survived—it's that they left behind thriving, multiplying churches that no longer needed them. The kingdom advanced.
What This Means for Us
We all have a role to play in completing the Great Commission. It starts with prayer—not the "bless the missionaries" kind, but the kind where we allow our hearts to break over the 3.5 billion who haven't heard. The kind where we put ourselves in the center of the prayer and ask God how He wants to use us.
We must give sacrificially. Our spending reveals our priorities. If we can find money for what we truly care about, then the question is whether God's mission is truly our priority.
And some must go. Not everyone is called to cross-cultural missions, but far more are called than actually answer. The reason 3.5 billion people remain unreached isn't because God isn't calling people to go—it's because too many are saying no.
The harvest is coming. God is moving around the world in unprecedented ways. But the gospel advances through sacrifice, not safety. The question is: will we be part of the generation that finally completes the task? Will we hasten the return of Christ through our obedience?
Being lost isn't a spectrum—you're either lost or you're not. And lost is lost, whether you're in Kentucky or the mountains of Nepal. Everyone deserves to hear. The only question is: will we tell them?
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