Lately I have been musing on how often the Christmas story describes people being displaced from their homes.
The most obvious example, and the subject of countless Christmas pageants, is the Holy Family leaving Nazareth to trek 90 miles south to Bethlehem. It couldn’t have been easy. The road was not always safe, Mary was well along in her pregnancy, and the housing options were limited. I too easily complain of the hardship of having to stay in a Motel 6 in Beckley, WV on the road from Durham to my family home in Ohio. But Mary and Joseph, exhausted and scared from a long journey on foot, took up residence in a drafty cave, their newborn baby resting in a feeding trough.
Then there was the flight to Egypt. Joseph and Mary knew that they (and their cherished baby) were in danger in their homeland. As difficult as the decision was (there was no FaceTime, texting, or social media to keep up with their friends and family), they fled for their lives in the middle of the night to a land where people spoke, dressed, and worshipped differently than they. We have no idea whether Joseph got a job in carpentry; he may have had to work wherever for a few coins to support his hungry family.
But perhaps the most important (and least considered) migration in the Christmas story is the Son of God leaving the splendor of heaven to be incarnated among us. He who deserved nothing but glory and abundance willingly chose poverty for the sake of his precious children, giving them hope for a new life in the here and now, but also for eternity. His sacrifice has been mirrored in the lives of so many parents who willingly chose the hardship of leaving home so that their children could have hope.
God understands the decisions, the joys, and the plight of refugees and immigrants. And in Scripture, God directs us, who are refugees no longer, to bless those who are. Thus, World Relief’s mission to support refugees and immigrants is not simply the reflection of a nonprofit’s business plan. It is a sacred mission given by a God who knows what it is to be a stranger in a strange land, who reminds us of when we were newcomers, and whose heart beats for the families who have left homes to start new lives abroad.
And ye, beneath life’s crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing!
“O Little Town of Bethlehem”
About the Author
Garry Crites is an ordained minister within the Conservative Congregational Christian Conference. After many years in the pastorate, he returned to grad school and received a PhD in Early and Medieval Church History from Duke University. He is currently the Church and Community Engagement Manager at World Relief Durham, a Christian refugee resettlement agency.