Aliens Like Me--July 25, 2024

Aliens Like Me--July 25, 2024   

"So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, build on upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone." [Ephesians 2:17-20]

If you are a Christian who does not also happen to come from Jewish ancestry (which, to be honest, is the overwhelming majority of Christians now), the dominant way the New Testament describes us is like this: we are aliens and foreigners who have been given both a blanket amnesty from God and full citizenship among God's people as a free gift, no questions asked.

Now, if you are the sort of person who prides themselves on being a "native" of whatever place you live, or if you tend to be suspicious of immigrants and refugees (whether they are working as migrant workers on a farm, or working in a factory, or just getting settled in your area through the help of a group like Global Refuge), this will be a hard pill to swallow.  It is an unavoidable pill if you actually care about what the Bible says, but it is a difficult thing for folks to hear sometimes, if they have built their whole identity on thinking they are somehow different from the aliens or foreigners they hear about on the cable news in sometimes fear-inducing news stories. 

But if we dare to hear it from a place of humility, on the other hand, this passage that many of us heard this past Sunday is a word of sheer grace.  It is the declaration that even though we Gentile (non-Jewish) outsiders didn't have a "right" to claim belonging in God's household by our own efforts, God has just up and given that belonging to us for free, through Christ.  Long-time citizens and brand-new-arrivals still dripping wet from the font are made equal: equal in status, equal in citizenship, equal in valid claim to belong to the household of God.  And, like I say, you can either grumble about that kind of amnesty on God's part because you feel threatened by it, or you can rejoice with reckless abandon over it because it means you belong in the people of Jesus just as you are.

While we're on the subject, we should be honest that it's not just this one passage in the New Testament that talks like this.  Sure, this passage from Ephesians puts it pretty clearly: "So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God." But you find the same language in First Peter ("Once you were not a people, but now you are God's people..."), in Hebrews, ("They confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth, for people who speak in this way make it clear that they are seeking a homeland..."), as well as in the repeated instructions in the Old and New Testament for God's people to welcome foreigners and immigrants by the logic that "You yourselves were once aliens and you know what it was like to be mistreated."  And Jesus himself regularly tells stories where latecomers are looked down on when they are shown mercy and welcome, but God takes the side of the newcomer, whether it's the landowner who pays all the workers the same in the vineyard or the prodigal father who welcomes not only the lost second son but also the grudge-holding older brother who is standing with his arms crossed pouting outside the welcome party.  That is to say, we can't get away from this notion that we Gentile Christians (and again, that's the overwhelming majority of us American Christians who sit in pews on Sundays or read devotions like this) are like foreigners who have been given full citizenship, without any catches or fine print, because Christ has spoken "peace" to us as well as to the "native born" descendants of ancient Israel.

Now, I know that conversations about our immigration and asylum system in the United States in the 21st century are different from the metaphorical language that Ephesians and other New Testament voices are using in all those passages.  I know that there is a significant difference between the community of Jesus' followers, which will always transcend national borders and cultural barriers, and the integrity of a modern-day nation-state that makes promises to keep its citizens safe and secure.  I get that, and I will not pretend that I have some easy solution to how we can both maintain safety while not ignoring the needs of people who want to come here as a means of escaping poverty, war, or disasters, without any wrinkles or challenges.  There is a reason that policy experts are the policy experts.  But I will say this much that seems unavoidable: when I realize that I am, in God's sight, like an alien who has been given full citizenship simply on the basis of my need rather than my inherent "goodness" or "usefulness," then it changes the way I see other people who are seeking a welcome and a place to belong.

In other words, I can never see other refuge-seekers as "animals" or think of them as "less-than human" (despite how popular a way of talking that may be), because the whole point of the New Testament here is that I am no different.  I am someone who has been given not just refuge, not just temporary asylum, but full belonging as a citizen in the people of God, because Christ Jesus has given that to me by sheer grace.  I can never ignore the needs of "outsiders" or say that they all just "need to go back where they came from," because from the New Testament's perspective, I am an outsider who wasn't turned away at the gate, but have been welcomed in as a fellow "citizen with the saints."  Jesus says so.  That prevents me from looking down on anybody else who knows what it is to be in need of refuge, and it compels me to see my own face in theirs.

It's worth noting, too, that the early church continued to see itself in those terms--as aliens and strangers in the world, whose citizenship and belonging were ultimately to God's Reign, rather than any other land or territory.  The second-century Epistle to Diognetus described Christians this way:  "They live in their own countries as though they were only passing through. They play their full role as citizens, but labor under all the disabilities of aliens. Any country can be their homeland, but for them their homeland, wherever it may be, is a foreign country." It's easy to forget that if you've lived in one town, state, or country all your life, but the New Testament wants us to remember: we are recipients of God's amnesty and gift of citizenship.  And we can never be the same after that gift of grace.

When we collect supplies for migrant workers laboring in nearby farms, or when we speak up against anybody calling refuge-seekers "animals," we are simply taking the Scriptures seriously on this point.  When we help volunteer with ESL (English as a Second Language) classes, or fight the impulse to be suspicious of someone speaking a different language, we are living out of the story the New Testament has given us.  And when we can make room for newcomers among us, whether in the pew beside us, the meal time across from us, or in our communities around us, we are reflecting what these verses from Ephesians dare to say: we are citizens with the saints, given belonging in God's house as a gift.  

That's how the world will know we are the people of Jesus.

Lord Jesus, we give you thanks for making us to belong even though we had been outsiders before. Grant us to live into our identity as citizens in the household of God, more and more fully.