03 August 2008

Jesus was a refugee.

Jesus was a refugee.
Our Lord, the one who died I your place.
He was a refugee.
He wasn’t out to take anyone’s job or place in school.
He was just born into a situation that wasn’t very . . . stable.

We judge people by all kinds of things.
By how they dress or speak or hold themselves.
We also judge by the colour of the skin or shape of their eyes, by their accent or height. . . . all things no one can really control.

Jesus was a refugee.
He had to flee to another country, as a baby, because of the choice of a powerful man who was scared of losing his position.

God the Father provided, through a refugee, the blood which was needed to cover my sin.

God created all things, matter, different cultures, senses and love.

For God so loved the world that He sent a refugee, for whosoever would believe on Him, would not perish, but would have life without end.

We have some in our midst, on the Shore and scattered throughout our city.
Many of them don’t know Jesus.

How would it be if we contextualised the gospel by explaining the success story of a refugee who escaped death as a baby, only to embrace it, for their sakes, and ours, as a man?

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