How Does God Feel about Refugees

3/1/2016

In my recent devotions through Isaiah, I have begun to see something that hasn’t stood out to me in previous readings: God’s heart aches for refugees. And not just Israelites. God himself says, “My heart cries out for Moab; her fugitives flee to Zoar” (Isa 15:5; cf. 16:9). This in spite of the fact that God claims responsibility for their calamity: “I have put an end to the shouting. Therefore my inner parts moan like a lyre for Moab, and my inmost self for Kir-hareseth” (16:10-11) Why did I never notice this before? Maybe because I didn’t consider this nation familiar enough to warrant my attention.

How then were his people called to respond? “Shelter the outcasts; do not reveal the fugitive; let the outcasts of Moab sojourn among you; be a shelter to them from the destroyer”(16:3-4). Like God, his people are to be a shelter for refugees. Was Moab special? Did only their refugees deserve care (you know, because they so piously worshiped Chemosh)? No; he also says later of those in Arabia, “Meet the fugitive with bread” (21:14). This is a broad principle: God commands us to care for refugees. Kind of like Christians in Greece and Iraq are doing today. This month’s issue of Christianity Today reported that Greece now receives 3,000 migrants every day, most of them fleeing from ISIS. Evangelicals have banded together across the country to care for the needy. “We think our mission as people of God is to help everybody the same. After all, God sends rain the same on the good and the bad,” says evangelical leader Christos Nakis (March 2016, p 32). Even while Iraqi Christians have been grieving their own losses, they are also caring not only for other displaced Christians but also for Muslims and others who are threatened by the violence. And they have discovered an unprecedented opportunity to share the gospel with great effect. Families are fleeing from violence and discovering not only care in the arms of Christians but also the message of eternal life.

So how are we doing? Resources in Greece are limited and many refugees move on to find help and safety elsewhere—like America. Tragically, more than half of US governors, including Indiana’s, have tried to ban Syrian refugees from resettling in their states. If we’re reading the book of Isaiah, or the Gospels, presumably Christians will speak out against this lack of compassion. Yet according to a Pew Research Center survey, “white evangelicals had the greatest opposition of any American religious group to accepting more refugees” (cbsnews.com). Why such a lack of Christ-likeness among so many Christians in this country? The main reason seems to be fear. Is it a reasonable fear? In part. But we also tend to fear those who are different from us: we have no relationships with the thousands of gentle and needy people looking for a safe place for their family; we only hear about the one person on CNN who did something terrible. And so we feel justified in cutting off the thousands trying to protect their families on the remote possibility that someone might try to hurt our family. Meanwhile, those Christians closest to the danger take great risks to help strangers. Our extreme desire for security paralyzes our willingness to be the body of Christ.

I am aware that this is a very political issue. I am not trying to suggest that a person should vote for one political party over the other or that our political leaders don’t have a responsibility to think carefully and prudently about our immigration policy. But it is also very much a spiritual issue. Jesus says some very frightening things to those who, when “I was a stranger,” did not welcome him (Matt 25:43). Jesus’ teaching seems foolish to those whose worldview is shaped by the surrounding culture. But if we are Christians, our thoughts are guided by his thoughts, our values by his values. We have beautiful examples of the love of Christ reflected in those Christians who are nearest to danger. We also have a golden opportunity to share the love and the saving message of Christ. We may not encounter any of these refugees personally, or we may. But what I hope above all is that our hearts would be like God’s heart, crying out for those fleeing from violence.