by Eron Henry | Mar 28, 2025 | Lent 2025
Displacement has reached unprecedented scales. Millions find themselves forcibly uprooted—refugees crossing borders to escape persecution, internally displaced persons seeking safety within their own nations, asylum seekers awaiting legal protection, exiles banished for political or religious convictions, and deportees expelled from places they once called home.
The scale and complexity of today’s displacement differs dramatically from biblical times. Modern warfare displaces entire populations overnight. Climate change renders regions uninhabitable. Economic systems collapse, forcing migration for survival. Technology documents displacement in real-time while borders become increasingly militarized. Yet despite these differences, the questions remain strikingly similar: Where is God in the midst of forced migration? What does faithfulness look like for the displaced? How should communities respond to the stranger?
Scripture offers a framework for understanding modern displacement. The God who accompanied Israel through wilderness wanderings remains present with today’s refugees navigating treacherous journeys. The divine command to “love the stranger, for you were strangers in Egypt” (Deuteronomy 10:19) speaks directly to contemporary communities facing immigration debates. Jesus’ experience as a refugee challenges His followers to recognize His presence in those seeking asylum today.
The trauma of modern displacement—the loss of home, community, cultural identity, and often loved ones—finds resonance in biblical laments. The psalmist’s cry, “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down and wept when we remembered Zion” (Psalm 137:1), articulates the grief many refugees experience. This biblical tradition of lament validates the anger, sorrow, and disorientation of displacement without rushing to premature resolution.
Yet displacement, while devastating, can also become a site of revelation. Many displaced communities report deepened faith through their ordeal. Like Jacob wrestling at Peniel, they emerge with both wounds and blessing. Their testimonies challenge comfortable assumptions and reveal God’s presence in unexpected places—detention centers, refugee camps, and border crossings.
For faith communities, the global displacement crisis presents not just humanitarian challenges but spiritual opportunities. It invites us to recover ancient traditions of hospitality as sacred practice. It challenges nationalist theologies that equate divine blessing with territorial boundaries. It calls us to reexamine how economic systems we benefit from contribute to forced migration.
In the faces of today’s displaced millions, we encounter both a mirror reflecting our common vulnerability and a window into God’s particular concern for the uprooted. Their journeys remind us that all humanity shares a fundamental displacement. Strangers and sojourners on earth, seeking the city whose builder and maker is God.
Prayer
God of the refugee and the exile, You who walk alongside those forced to flee, we bring before You the millions of displaced people in our world today.
For refugees crossing borders in search of safety, for internally displaced persons seeking shelter within their homelands, for asylum seekers waiting in uncertainty, for exiles longing for the countries they were forced to leave, for deportees rebuilding lives in unfamiliar places: Be their shelter when all other shelter is gone.
We acknowledge the trauma of displacement. The homes abandoned, the possessions left behind, the communities scattered, the loved ones lost, the identities questioned, the futures uncertain. Where there is grief, grant the space to lament; where there is anger, provide paths toward healing; where there is despair, kindle sparks of hope.
Transform our communities into places of welcome. When we are tempted by fear, remind us of Your commands to love the stranger. When we benefit from systems that cause displacement, grant us courage to seek justice. When we encounter the displaced, help us recognize Your image and Your presence.
May detention centers become sites of dignity, may refugee camps foster community rather than dependency, may border crossings be places of compassion rather than cruelty, may the journeys of the displaced reveal Your accompanying presence.
Until that day when no one is forced from home, when all can live without fear of persecution or violence, we pray in the name of Jesus, who had nowhere to lay His head, and who promises a place for all in His Father’s house.
Amen.
by Eron Henry | Mar 27, 2025 | Lent 2025
Scripture consistently presents the displaced not merely as objects of compassion but as bearers of divine blessing to the world. This radical inversion—where those pushed to society’s margins become sources of revelation and renewal—represents one of the Bible’s most countercultural insights.
The story of Joseph exemplifies this pattern. Forcibly displaced through slavery and imprisonment, Joseph ultimately becomes Egypt’s savior and declares to his brothers, “God sent me before you to preserve life” (Genesis 45:5). His displacement becomes the very channel through which God’s redemptive purposes unfold. The outsider perspective Joseph gained through his forced migration enabled him to see possibilities invisible to those embedded within Egypt’s systems.
Ruth’s narrative similarly illustrates how a displaced person brings unexpected blessing. As a Moabite widow migrating to Bethlehem, Ruth initially appears vulnerable and dependent. Yet her faithfulness and determination not only secure her family’s future but place her in the lineage of King David and ultimately Christ Himself. Her story suggests that displaced persons often carry traditions, values, and perspectives that can enrich and even renew the communities that receive them.
The Babylonian exile, while traumatic, generated some of Judaism’s most incisive theological developments. Separated from temple worship, the exilic community deepened practices of Sabbath observance, Scripture study, and prayer that would sustain Jewish identity through centuries of diaspora. Their displacement catalyzed spiritual innovations that continue to bless the world.
Jesus embraced displacement as central to His ministry, “having nowhere to lay His head” (Matthew 8:20). This voluntary homelessness positioned Him to cross boundaries and engage diverse communities. His teachings consistently elevated those on society’s margins as bearers of spiritual insight—the Samaritan who understood neighborliness, the Syrophoenician woman whose faith challenged His mission’s scope.
The early church, scattered by persecution, spread the gospel throughout the Mediterranean world precisely because of their displacement. Acts recounts how dispersed believers established new communities that transcended ethnic and cultural boundaries. Their forced migration became the mechanism for Christianity’s expansion.
These biblical patterns speak powerfully to our contemporary context. They challenge us to recognize displaced persons not as problems to be solved but as potential sources of renewal, carrying perspectives that might help us reimagine our common life. They remind us that hospitality to strangers is not merely an ethical obligation but an opportunity to encounter God in unexpected guises. As Hebrews 13:2 reminds us, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”
Prayer
God of Joseph and Ruth, You who work through the journeys of the displaced, open our eyes to recognize the gifts carried by those who come from afar.
Where we see only need, help us discover blessing. Where we perceive burden, reveal to us opportunity. Where we focus on difference, show us the enrichment diversity brings.
Thank You for the wisdom that comes through displacement, for perspectives that challenge our assumptions, for stories that expand our understanding, for traditions that deepen our faith.
Forgive us when we have missed Your angels in disguise, when we have failed to receive the strangers You have sent as gifts, when we have seen only what displaced people lack rather than all they bring.
Help us to remember Joseph, whose displacement saved nations, Ruth, whose migration renewed a community’s hope, the exiles, whose dislocation birthed new expressions of faith, and Jesus, whose homelessness created space for all to belong.
Teach us true hospitality that recognizes the sacred exchange; not just offering shelter, but receiving insight; not just providing for needs, but welcoming transformation; not just extending charity, but embracing mutuality.
May we build communities where the displaced find not only refuge but opportunity to share their gifts, wisdom, and vision.
Until Your Kingdom comes in fullness, when no one shall be uprooted or excluded, we pray in the name of Christ who makes His home among us.
Amen.
by Eron Henry | Mar 26, 2025 | Lent 2025
Throughout Scripture, displacement emerges as a recurring motif. Far from being incidental, these experiences of forced migration, exile, and refugee status reveal truths about God’s character and commitment to the dislocated.
The biblical story begins with displacement—Adam and Eve expelled from Eden—and continues with Abraham’s call to leave his homeland for an unknown destination. Abraham’s identity as a “wandering Aramean” (Deuteronomy 26:5) establishes a pattern where divine purpose unfolds through geographic dislocation. His journey reminds us that displacement, while disorienting, can be the very context where divine promises take root.
Israel’s formative experience as slaves in Egypt further deepens this theme. God explicitly identifies with their displaced condition: “I have surely seen the affliction of my people… and have heard their cry” (Exodus 3:7). This divine attentiveness to the suffering of the displaced becomes a cornerstone of Israel’s understanding of God. The exodus narrative teaches that God not only sees displacement but actively intervenes to bring liberation and restoration.
The Babylonian exile represents another pivotal moment of displacement. Through prophets like Jeremiah, God instructs the exiles to “seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you” (Jeremiah 29:7) while simultaneously promising eventual return. This tension between present engagement and future restoration offers wisdom for navigating prolonged displacement with both realistic acceptance and enduring hope.
The Gospel narratives continue this theme when the infant Jesus becomes a refugee in Egypt, fleeing Herod’s violence. Matthew’s account deliberately connects Jesus to Israel’s exodus, suggesting that in Christ, God not only accompanies the displaced but becomes displaced. The incarnation itself represents divine solidarity with human dislocation.
Early Christians, described as “strangers and exiles on the earth” (Hebrews 11:13), transformed their experience of displacement into a theological identity. They understood themselves as citizens of a heavenly kingdom whose values often placed them at odds with dominant culture. Their displacement became not just a circumstance to endure but a witness to an alternative social reality.
These biblical narratives offer comfort and orientation for the displaced today. They reveal a God who consistently accompanies the uprooted, validates their suffering, promises restoration, and transforms displacement into the very soil where new communities and identities can flourish. In a world where displacement continues to define millions of lives, these ancient stories speak with renewed relevance and hope.
Prayer
God of Abraham, Moses, and Jesus, You who have witnessed every forced journey and heard every exile’s cry, we bring before You the displaced peoples of our world.
For those torn from their homelands by violence, persecution, and disaster, be as You were for Israel in Egypt, the God who sees affliction and hears suffering. For families crossing borders with nothing but hope and heartache, be as You were for the infant Jesus, providing refuge and protection in strange lands.
When displacement breeds despair, remind Your people that You travel with them. When borders seem impenetrable, recall for us how You have always made ways through wilderness. When the journey feels endless, whisper the promise of restoration that You spoke through the prophets.
Grant to the displaced not just survival but flourishing, not just tolerance but welcome, not just assistance but justice.
Give wisdom to those in places of temporary refuge, as You counseled the exiles in Babylon, to seek the welfare of the places where they dwell while holding their hope of return.
Remind Your church of our identity as strangers and pilgrims, that we might recognize Christ in the face of every displaced person, and build communities where the uprooted can find belonging.
Until that day when all can dwell securely under their own vines and fig trees, be the constant companion of those who journey far from home.
In the name of Jesus, who had nowhere to lay His head.
Amen.
by Eron Henry | Mar 25, 2025 | Lent 2025
No one escapes suffering, whether through physical pain, emotional anguish, relational fracture, or spiritual darkness. Christian tradition offers a distinctive perspective on suffering through the person of Jesus, who not only experienced agonizing suffering but transformed our understanding of it.
The writer of Hebrews captures this idea perfectly, encouraging believers to “fix our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame” (Hebrews 12:2). What makes Jesus’ example so powerful is not merely that He suffered, but how He suffered with purpose, dignity, and unwavering trust in God’s ultimate purposes.
Jesus’ journey to the cross reveals several dimensions of faithful endurance. First, He remained honest about suffering’s reality. In Gethsemane, He didn’t minimize His anguish but acknowledged it fully: “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death” (Matthew 26:38). This gives us permission to name our pain rather than denying it.
Second, Jesus maintained communion with God throughout His ordeal. His prayers in Gethsemane and His cries from the cross (“My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”) demonstrate that suffering doesn’t require spiritual stoicism. Honest lament remains an authentic expression of faith.
Third, Jesus oriented Himself toward a larger purpose beyond immediate relief. “For the joy set before Him” suggests that endurance becomes possible when suffering is contextualized within a broader narrative of redemption. Our sufferings, like His, can participate in purposes that transcend our immediate circumstances.
Perhaps most importantly, Jesus’ resurrection transforms our understanding of suffering’s finality. Without diminishing suffering’s reality, the empty tomb declares that suffering does not have the last word. The God who raised Jesus promises that our tears, too, will eventually be wiped away.
When we look to Jesus in our darkest moments, we find not a distant deity untouched by pain, but one who “has been tempted in every way, just as we are” (Hebrews 4:15). His example offers not just inspiration but identification, the assurance that whatever valley we walk through, we follow footsteps already imprinted there. In this lies our hope and strength to persevere.
Prayer
Faithful God,
When the weight of suffering bears down upon us and the path ahead seems too difficult to walk, help us fix our eyes on Jesus, who endured the cross for the joy set before Him.
Thank You that we do not follow a Savior who is unfamiliar with pain. In our darkest valleys and most troubled nights, remind us that Jesus walked this way before us, honest in His anguish, steadfast in His faith.
When we are tempted to hide our suffering behind masks of false strength, grant us the courage to be truthful about our pain, as Jesus was in Gethsemane. When words fail us, may we remember that even Christ cried out in moments of desolation.
Help us maintain communion with You even when we feel most abandoned. Teach us to pray through our tears and to trust beyond our understanding. Like Jesus, may we seek Your presence especially when it seems most distant.
When we cannot see purpose in our pain, give us faith to believe that our suffering is not meaningless. May we glimpse, even dimly, the redemptive possibilities that lie beyond our present circumstances.
And in our moments of deepest despair, whisper to us the promise of resurrection, that suffering, however real and raw, does not have the final word in our story.
We look to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who transformed suffering through faithful endurance. In His name we pray, trusting in Your mercy that sustains us through every trial.
Amen.
by Eron Henry | Mar 24, 2025 | Lent 2025
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John chapter 1 presents four distinct recognitions of Jesus, each deeper than the last. When Andrew and his companion first approach Jesus, they address Him simply as “Rabbi” or Teacher (v. 38). This represents the initial way many encounter Jesus—as a wise instructor whose teachings merit attention. The title acknowledges Jesus’s authority to interpret truth, but remains within familiar religious categories.
Soon after, Andrew declares to his brother Simon: “We have found the Messiah” (v. 41). This recognition elevates Jesus from respected teacher to the long-awaited anointed one of Israel. The title carries political and eschatological significance, identifying Jesus as the fulfillment of national hopes and divine promises.
Philip further expands this understanding when he tells Nathanael: “We have found Him of whom Moses in the Law and also the prophets wrote” (v. 45). This recognition places Jesus as the prophet like Moses promised in Deuteronomy 18:15, the culmination of Israel’s prophetic tradition and the authoritative interpreter of divine law.
The crescendo comes with Nathanael’s confession: “Rabbi, You are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” (v. 49). This dual acknowledgment transcends previous titles, recognizing both Jesus’s divine identity and royal authority. Nathanael’s confession anticipates the Gospel’s central claim about Jesus’s unique relationship with the Father.
Yet Jesus suggests even these exalted titles don’t capture His full identity. He promises Nathanael: “You will see greater things than these… heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man” (vv. 50-51). The allusion to Jacob’s ladder indicates Jesus as the connection point between heaven and earth, the place where divine and human realms meet.
This progression reveals something deep about spiritual understanding. Our recognition of Jesus rarely comes in a single moment of complete comprehension but unfolds through ongoing encounter. We begin with partial insights that gradually deepen. The journey from seeing Jesus as teacher to acknowledging Him as divine Son mirrors the path many believers travel, a progressive revelation that continues to unfold throughout John’s Gospel and in our own lives of faith.
Prayer
Lord Jesus,
You who revealed Yourself gradually to those first disciples, we come before You with hearts open to deeper understanding.
When we first meet You as Teacher, grant us the humility to sit at Your feet and learn. May we follow You and embrace your teaching.
As You revealed Yourself as Messiah, open our eyes to recognize You as the fulfillment of ancient promises. May we share our discoveries with eager hearts.
When You appear as Prophet, help us see how You fulfill the law and the prophets. May we invite others to encounter You beyond the limitations of our preconceptions.
And as You stand revealed as Son of God and King of Israel, may we move from skepticism to sincere confession, recognizing Your divine nature and authority.
Yet we know that even these titles cannot contain You. Expand our vision to glimpse the greater things You promised.
Guide us through each stage of knowing You more fully. When we settle for partial understanding, draw us deeper. When we think we have You figured out, surprise us with new facets of Your glory.
May our journey with You continue to unfold, until that day when we shall know fully, even as we are fully known.
Amen.
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