Immigrants & Jesus

I'm thinking about immigrants today.  It's hard not to... We are having our roof replaced and the noise of it allows me to think of little else.  The crew putting on our roof is Guatemalan.  10 of them.  Working incredibly hard.  It's not even noon and they already have the entire roof removed and are beginning to rebuild.  (And we have a big roof!)

It reminds me of my grandfather, an immigrant from Newfoundland.  He worked construction and, I think, worked with a crew of Newfies.  They all spoke English (sort of... I laugh when my husband watches the fishing show of Newfie boats because they have to use subtitles so people can understand what they're saying).  They worked incredibly hard.

And then I remember that Jesus was an immigrant, twice over.  He was an immigrant in the "normal" sense when, as a child, his family moved to Egypt.  They were on the run from a governor that wanted to kill them.  Refugees.

But Jesus was also an immigrant in another way.  His home was heaven.  He "became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood."  (John 1, the msg).  He knew what it was like to speak an unnatural language.  He knew what it was to have a job to do in a foreign culture.  And He knew what it was to yearn for home.

As I continue to think and write about my trip to Israel, it's good for me to remember this.  While Jesus was most definitely Jewish, in so many ways He was an outsider to His own culture.  That "outsiderness" (yes I just made up a word) contributed greatly to His death.

And we who follow Jesus are called to this outsiderness, this immigrant mentality, as well.  Fully engaged in today and our culture, understanding we have a job to do, and yet not quite fitting.  And longing for another home.

For this world is not our home; we are looking forward to our city in heaven, which is yet to come. (Hebrews 13:14 - NLT)