I love it that God only ever invites us to do what he has already provided a long and perfect example of.

The Old Testament maps out Israel’s emergence as a nation that was to be ‘holy’ – set apart, chosen by God ‘to be a light to the nations’, acting in ways that aligned with God’s design for creation, reflecting his heart and character – a great evangelising witness in word and deed.  A common theme through those stories is God repeatedly choosing them not for their greatness, but because of his unfailing and steadfast, loving character. Psalm 136 captures this beautifully: through every line of their history, through all its ups and downs, God’s love remained steadfast, enduring, eternal (see also Dt. 7:7, 1 Cor. 1:26f).  His historical treatment of them was to be a constant reminder to Israel of how they were to treat ‘the orphan, the widow and the stranger in the land,’ and thus a regular refrain throughout the Bible is: remember your history, and treat folks the way that God’s treated you (see Dt. 10 and 1 John 4).  Christians, therefore, aren’t just to be known for professing their love of God, but their practical and demonstrated love for other people, not least the ‘orphan, the widow and the stranger in the land.’

Next week is refugee week.  I get that refugee situations are complex – if there were only easy answers, the conversation would have been finished by now.  But there’s biblical simplicity around this issue too: surely – as people who want to ‘be a light to the nations’, expressing something of God’s character and desire in the world – surely our response to these ‘strangers in the land’ must being with and aim to express something of God’s steadfast, enduring and unconditional love. 

In my limited experience of supporting refugees and asylum seekers in our community, this approach shifts something in us too and ‘strangers in the land’ become ‘friends around our table’ (and at time ‘prophets in our midst!’). As often happens in God’s delightfully upside-down economy – their kindness and generosity become beautiful reminders (‘evangelising witnesses’) to us of God’s generous and steadfast love. I remember an Iranian man who lived with us a few years back regularly knocking on our door. It was almost always in the immediate aftermath of me stressing about our (very comfortable) costs of living. He was a man with virtually no economic assets, but he’d be standing there with a wide smile on his face and a meal he’d prepared for us. Just this past weekend we were welcomed into a Syrian family’s home and plied with fresh, homemade shawarma, falafel and baklava until we couldn’t eat anymore. They arrived a fortnight ago with their entire belongings in a handful of suitcases and (at most) a few hundred dollars. Extravagant, God-like generosity and hospitality – who’s receiving grace here?

I have a small copy of Caravaggio’s Supper at Emmaus in my office. There’s a fascinating story behind this painting (and it’s earlier edition), but I love the reminder of how Jesus revealed himself through the sharing of a meal and the breaking of bread with strangers.

A couple of ways to reflect (and act!) on moving ‘strangers in the land’ to ‘friends at our table’ you may or may not already be aware of:

If you’re in Perth: CARAD have some great events lined up for next week.  You can check them out here.

Having a look the CRISP program: a new model of settling refugees in Australia that is community-led and relationally centered.  Our family is part of the trial and we’re happy to share our experiences so far – get in touch if you’d like some insider info. They’re looking for more support groups (of five or more adults) to join the trail.  There’s more information on the CRISP program here.

Have a read of Refuge Reimagined by Mark and Luke Glanville.  It’s an easy-but-deep-and-practical book on ‘biblical kindship in global politics’.  If you’re in Perth, feel free to drop by and borrow a copy.