We live in a time when “different” quickly becomes “divided.” Borders harden. Language separates. Culture becomes a line instead of a bridge. Fear fills the gaps.
Yet Scripture presses us in another direction.
Rooted in God’s Character
Leviticus speaks plainly:
“When a foreigner lives among you, do not mistreat them.
Treat the foreigner as your own. Love them as yourself, because you were once
foreigners in Egypt. I am the Lord your God.” (Leviticus 19:33–34)
This is not a passing instruction. It is anchored in who God
is. “I am the Lord your God.” The command reflects His character.
The people of Israel were to remember their own story. They
had been strangers. They had known vulnerability. Their obedience was to flow
from memory and gratitude.
And beneath it all is Genesis 1. Every person bears the
image of God. Not selectively. Not culturally. Not conditionally. If we
diminish the stranger, we diminish someone marked with divine imprint.
Fulfilled, Not Forgotten
Some argue that commands like this belong to another
covenant. Jesus answers that question directly. He did not come to abolish the
Law, but to fulfill it. He brought it to its intended depth and meaning.
And what did it look like when the Law’s heart came alive in him?
A Jewish rabbi speaking with a Samaritan woman in public.
A Roman centurion praised for his faith.
A Samaritan made the hero of the story.
Jesus does not narrow the table. He widens it. He exposes
the heart of the Law as justice, mercy, and covenant love.
A Church Without Favoritism
The early Church wrestled with this in real time. Acts 10 is
not merely a story about dietary laws. It is about walls coming down. Peter
learns that God shows no favoritism. That revelation reshapes the future of the
Church.
Acts 15 confirms it. Gentiles are not second-tier citizens.
In Christ, the dividing wall of hostility is broken down.
Paul describes something breathtaking in Ephesians 2. A new
humanity. Not uniformity. Not erasure. Reconciliation.
The Church is meant to be a foretaste of that reality. Every
tribe. Every language. One Lord.
The Cost of Welcome
Welcoming strangers is not abstract. It is often
uncomfortable.
Different languages slow conversation. Cultural differences
require humility. Fear whispers that we may lose something.
But growth in Christ rarely happens inside comfort.
We are called ambassadors of reconciliation. That is not
poetic language. It is a vocation. The Spirit equips the Church with gifts
precisely for this work. Some teach. Some organize. Some extend hospitality.
Some protect the vulnerable.
Together, we embody the Gospel.
Remembering Who We Were
The deepest reason we welcome others is not political or
cultural. It is theological.
We were once strangers. Separated. Without hope. Without
God.
And then Christ brought us near.
Hospitality begins there. Not with virtue. With grace
received.
We open the table because we were first invited. We extend
welcome because we were welcomed. The Kingdom of God is not a small, guarded
space. The table is large. Grace is sufficient. There is room.
A Prayer for a Larger Heart
Father,
You welcomed us when we were far off. Forgive us when fear
narrows our hearts. Teach us to see Your image clearly in those who are
unfamiliar to us.
Lord Jesus, You broke down walls we could not dismantle
ourselves. Form in us that same reconciling love.
Holy Spirit, make us courageous. Give us humility to listen,
wisdom to act, and faith to trust that obedience reflects Your character.
May our churches reflect Your Kingdom. May our tables reflect Your grace. And may we never forget that we were once strangers who were brought near.
In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment