The importance of identity is not just a 21st Century trend. The significance of a person’s identity dates back to the Ancient Near Eastern culture preserved in the Bible.
Parents commonly named their children based on prominent identity markers. For instance, Isaac and Rebekah named their second born, Jacob, who was born clinging to his two brother’s ankle. Jacob (Ya’aqov in Hebrew) meant “supplanter,” “heel-catcher,” or “he who follows on the heels of.” The name became part of his identity not just literally; it corresponded with actions to acquire his older brother’s birthright from his father by manipulation and deception. (Gen. 25:26; 27:36; and Hos. 12:2-4)
God often gave people new names to go with their identity in relation to God. After a personal encounter with the Lord, God gave Jacob a new name: Israel, which meant “struggles with God,” “wrestlers with /God,” or “God prevails.” (Gen. 32)
The naming of children and God renaming people according to some key characteristic associated with their personal identity, or a new identity God gave them, is a common theme in the Bible. Groups of people were known by ancestral names, like Israelites, Amalekites, Hittites, etc. Thus, I find significance in the name Moses gave his first born child: Gershom.
Moses was the son of Hebrew parents, but he was placed in a basket in the Nile when Pharaoh ordered the killing of all male Hebrew babies. The Pharaoh’s own daughter found Moses and adopted him, though she allowed him to be nursed by a Hebrew woman who turned out to be Moses’s mother.
Moses grew up in the privilege of the Pharaoh’s house. He was educated in all the ways of Egypt, learned to read and write, and was familiar with Egyptian history, culture, religion, and philosophy. He was Hebrew by birth, but he was Egyptian by upbringing.
Moses must have known that he was Hebrew. It was probably obvious by his facial features, and he might have even been circumcised. He was schooled in Egyptian ways and thinking, but he was probably painfully aware that he was not Egyptian by birth.
One day as he observed an Egyptian beating a Hebrew man, Moses stepped in and killed the Egyptian. I believe Moses identified with the Hebrew man because of his Hebrew ethnicity. He fled into the desert in Midian for fear of punishment from the Egyptians for the murder.
In Midian, he was accepted into the family of a Midianite, married a Midian woman, and settled down there. When his wife, Zipporah, gave birth to a son, “Moses named him Gershom, saying, ‘I have become a foreigner in a foreign land.’” Exodus 2:21-22
Moses named his first son Foreigner because he identified as a foreigner himself. Despite being raised as an Egyptian in Pharaoh’s family with all the privilege associated with the royal household, Moses could not escape the fact of his Hebrew heritage. That knowledge influenced his personal identity. That identify as an outsider – a foreigner – was reinforced in his persona when he settled in Midian to the extent that he extended that identity to his firstborn son.
I find significance in that story and in the realization that Moses identified so poignantly with being a foreigner. That same identity – of being foreign – defined the Hebrew people enslaved in Egypt. It remained with them as they wandered 40 years in the Levant wilderness, and, God sanctified that identity for the Israelites in the Mosaic Law:
“When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Do not go over your vineyard a second time or pick up the grapes that have fallen. Leave them for the poor and the foreigner. I am the Lord your God….
“When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt. I am the Lord your God.“
Leviticus 19:9-10, 33-34
The Israelites lived 430 years in Egypt by the time Moses led them out of that land. Their memories of the promised land were ancient history. Their memories would be like modern Native Americans recalling the history of the United States in 1596. European settlers at that time comprised a few thousand people at most in precarious settlements in the New World inhabited by millions of indigenous people.
The Roanoke Colony had already failed, and no English settlements remained. Some Spanish missionary and military expeditions existed in the south and west, and French and Portuguese fishing camps existed in Newfoundland. Jamestown (1607), Quebec City (1608), Plymouth (1620), and New Amsterdam (New York, 1624) were not yet established.
Some 430 years later, the Native Americans may identify as outcasts in their own country, like Israelites identified as foreigners in their “home” country of Egypt. The Israelites lived there, but they were not assimilated into Egyptian culture, and they lived there without all the benefits Egyptian privileges.
Though Moses was raised with Egyptian privileges in the royal family, he never lost his Hebrew identity. In that sense, Moses identified similarly to the way Christians are taught to identify themselves in the New Testament: as people of God who are foreigners and exiles (1 Peter 2:10-11), “foreigners and strangers on earth” (Hebrews 11:13), who are now “fellow citizens with God’s people.” (Ephesians 2:19)
For Moses, though, he probably didn’t even feel at home with his own, Hebrew people because of his upbringing. He was raised separately from them. His Hebrew features (and perhaps circumcision) reminded him of his heritage. He could not escape it, but his personal connection to those Hebrew roots was not yet intimate.
Even so, the sense of foreign identify was profound enough that Moses was compelled to come to the aid of a Hebrew stranger. Moses identified with the plight of the Israelites who lived as vulnerable foreigners in a land they could not call their own.
I and my fellow Christians should have the same profound sense of living as strangers in a foreign land in this world – if, indeed, we are citizens of heaven. This realization hits home today as I watch what is happening in the streets of American cities.
Do we identify with the aliens and strangers in our country? Or do we identify with the government that has recently adopted more oppressive and strong handed tactics to deal with immigrants in this country who are not wanted here? If you are not sure these connections belong together, bear with me awhile longer.
We are first and foremost citizens of heaven – fellow citizens of the kingdom of God where Christ is our King, Lord, and Savior. Our time on earth is short. Earthly kingdoms come and go. Our eternal allegiance is with God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit.
We are to live in this world in harmony with the governing authorities to the extent that our submission to them does not clash with our obedience to God. Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s, but give to God the obedience that God requests of us. Peter and Paul who both encouraged us to submit to governing authorities, also demonstrated what it looks like when our obedience to God clashes with those governing authorities.
The Bible is surprisingly consistent and clear about how we should treat foreigners as people of God. The command, “You shall not wrong or oppress a sojourner, for you were sojourners in the land of Egypt” (Exodus 22:21; repeated in Exod. 23:9; Lev 19:33–34; Deut 10:19), is not just a sentimental platitude or an idealistic suggestion; it is derived from covenantal memory and written into God’s law to reinforce our fundamental identity as God’s people.
The Prophets warned that wrongful treatment of foreigners is a sign of covenant unfaithfulness. God’s blessing is extended when His people do not oppress the sojourner (and other vulnerable people like the fatherless and the widow) (Jer.7:6-7), and God condemns wronging foreigners. (Exek. 22:7,29). How we treat foreigners and other vulnerable people is a litmus test for people of God.
The Bible makes a distinction between foreigners who were willing to live harmoniously with God’s people and live under their laws and order and those who did not assimilate with God’s covenant people. We can draw some parallels to that principle in our current times, but we need to be careful. This assumes that the laws that govern our country are biblically just (as Israel’s law was in its day).
If our laws are not biblically just, the parallels break down. If our laws are unjust, we need to ask ourselves, “Must we obey man’s law or be obedient to God?”
As I reflect on Egypt and Moses, I see parallels with the United States in 2026. Egypt had strong border controls. That in itself is not unjust, but Egypt oppressed Hebrew foreigners by enslaving them and refusing to let them leave freely.
In the United States, we have allowed asylum seekers, refugees, and other people into our country through programs established in keeping with international law, our immigration system, and executive orders that are being unjustly. stripped away. I am not talking about people who came here illegally or who have violated our laws in significant ways.
I am talking about people who came in here in good faith and with good will following the rules that were in place when they came here. It’s unjust and wrong for us to pull the rug out from underneath them. They relied on laws, rules, and orders that were in place; it’s wrong to change those rules and deport after them after receiving them into our country.
Changing those laws, rules, and orders to apply to future immigration is a different matter. The Bible doesn’t prescribe exactly how welcoming foreigners and balancing what is good for the people who already live here must be worked out. It’s always wrong and unjust, however, to change the rules on people who relied on them in good faith.
The story of Moses is more poignant still. Moses was a murderer. He killed a man while defending a fellow Hebrew, which forced him to flee for his life. If Moses were living in the United States today, he would might not only face deportation; he might have to face a life sentence in an El Salvadoran prison.
We want things to be black and white. Violating the law means suffering the consequences. End of story. Yet, God deals graciously with us. God desires mercy, and so should we in circumstances in which mercy is appropriate.
“The letter of the law kills, but the Spirit gives life.” (2 Cor. 3:6)
I am not necessarily saying we should let murderers go just because Moses was a murderer, but his example should give us pause and cause us to reflect. Murder, rape, fraud, and other significant crimes should generally be handled with an appropriate level of weight. A law requiring deportation for certain levels of crime is not necessarily unjust.
On the other hand, being present in the US without the right documentation or overstaying a visa is not felony. Depending on the circumstances, it is not even a misdemeanor; it’s a civil violation (like a simple speeding ticket).
The law (as it reads now) allows for deportation, but that is a harsh consequence for many people. That is why the system has always allowed a judge to weigh all the facts and give some grace to a person whose only crime is being undocumented.
Due process ensures that all the facts are considered, to make sure that our law is not a blunt axe or a bludgeon that oppresses people wrongfully. Mitigating circumstances have always allowed a judge who is in the best position to understand all the facts and weigh all considerations in determining how the law should be applied.
Applying the law like a blunt axe or a bludgeon is cruel and unjust. Refusing due process, which is the law that applies to all people charged with violations of the law, is unjust. Detaining people without warrants, without probably cause, or even reasonable suspicion is unjust. Sending foreign detainees who are marginalized socially, financially, and politically to far off prisons that separate them from family, community, and help is unjust.
Our circumstances are different than Moses and the Israelites in Egypt under the reign of Pharaoh, but injustice and oppression is always visited on the weak and the vulnerable by the strong and powerful. To learn from our Lord and Savior how we should view what is going on in our world today, we need only pay attention to his words and take them to heart.
Perhaps, the most iconic instruction Jesus gave was in the Sermon on the Mount. In that passage, Jesus describes the markers – the identifiers – of those who will receive the kingdom of God (the poor in spirit); those who will inherit the earth (the meek); those who will be filled (the ones who hunger and thirst for righteousness); and those who will receive mercy (the merciful). (Matthew 5:1-10)
For the people who do not identify by those markers, we will be judged by how we treat those who do – the least – the hungry, the thirsty, the foreigner, the naked, and the imprisoned. (Matthew 25:31-46) Like Moses, who was privileged, will we identify with those who are not?
Do we identify as foreigners in this world? That is the mark of a true child of God. The true child of God identifies chiefly as citizen of heaven just passing through this world on the way to the next. How we live in this world, however, is a litmus test.
If we find ourselves privileged in any way, do we identify, nevertheless (like Moses), with those who are not? If we identify and side with the privileged people of the world against the unprivileged people of the world, what does that suggest about us?
Of the people in the family of God, the body of Christ, Paul said, “Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth.” (1 Cor. 1:26) Is that still true today? Paul seemed to be celebrating that reality. Do we have the same attitude that Paul had about these things?
Implicit in the Sermon on the Mount is the reality that Jesus compels us to consider how God views the meek, the mourners, and the merciful and to identify with the marginalized people of the world. This makes sense to the extent that we embrace the instructions of Jesus to pick up our crosses and follow seeking first the kingdom of God and forsaking what the world has to offer. This is because we – like the saints of old – are waiting for a better City, an eternal one with foundations, the designer and builder of which is God, and king of which is Jesus, the Lamb of God.
Navigating by Faith 