Conversations about migration can feel exhausting. Perhaps you’ve had awkward, even heated discussions over tea and biscuits after a church service.
It’s easy to feel like we must pick a side and argue our case when there are legitimate concerns.
But amid the noise, there’s a more basic question for followers of Jesus that we can’t afford to miss: How do we see the people whom God has placed in our lives today? How do we look beyond statistics and headlines to the person with a name and a story?
Recently, I arrived at a conference, tired and overwhelmed after a sleepless night and a frustrating commute. It was attended by people from all over the world.
I grabbed a cup of tea and stood for a moment deciding who to strike up a conversation with.
Instinctively, I gravitated toward a woman who appeared like me – someone familiar, who shared my language, values, and cultural background. In an unfamiliar environment, when I wasn’t feeling confident or at my best, it was easy to seek the comfort and safety of someone more like me.
It’s a pattern repeated for many of us.
I find it far easier to love people who are like me than those who are different. Fear can make me hesitant. Busyness can make me inattentive. Comfort can make me complacent.
I need Jesus to widen my circle, to teach me to notice and love the person I might otherwise pass by.
Scripture challenges our instincts. It trains our eyes to see with God’s heart.
In Exodus, God hears the cries of an enslaved people and acts to rescue them. When he forms Israel, he commands a community that protects the stranger and the poor: “You yourselves know what it is to be foreigners” – therefore love the foreigner as your native born (cf. Exodus 23:9; Deuteronomy 10:19).
God roots compassion in memory. He asks us to remember what it felt like to be on the outside looking in.
In the New Testament, Jesus himself embraces displacement. As an infant, he is taken to Egypt for safety. He leaves the riches of heaven, takes on our humanity, and “tabernacles” among us to bring us home.
If our Lord moved toward us when we were far off, how can we not move toward those at the margins?
The book of Ruth gives this vision flesh. Ruth, a Moabite, arrives in Bethlehem empty, with no status or security. Boaz notices her – a migrant gleaning at the edges – and moves toward her with welcome, protection, and generosity.
He doesn’t merely tick a box; he overflows. He ensures extra grain is left, seats her at his table, guards her from harm, and dignifies her with work and welcome.
He demonstrates intentional kindness, and the outsider becomes part of the line of Jesus as a result.
All of that begins because one man pays attention to a woman the community could have ignored. That’s a pattern worth imitating.
And when Jesus was asked, “Who is my neighbour?” he tells the story of a Samaritan who crosses ethnic and religious divides to meet urgent need.
Love takes risks. Love moves toward. Love binds wounds and walks beside.
In a city like London, the nations are on our doorsteps. Playgrounds, buses, markets, GP surgeries - each space is a crossroads of stories from around the world.
What a God‑given moment for the church.
I think of a Somali woman who moved onto my road. I thanked God for the chance to get to know her, to invite her in, to share Jesus.
Then life got busy, and I assumed I had time. Within weeks, she moved away. That missed moment reminded me that opportunities are gifts, not guarantees.
Boaz, in the book of Ruth, offers a simple pathway we can follow: notice, empower, include, witness gently.
Costly hospitality will stretch our time, comfort, and sometimes our budget. But it’s the kind of love Jesus has shown us, and the kind that makes the gospel visible in a watching city.
There’s a small phrase in Ruth that I love: “As it turned out.”
As it turned out, Ruth gleaned in Boaz’s field - the one man who could protect and redeem her.
In truth, nothing just happens. God is already at work in our streets, arranging encounters we might miss if we rush past. Today, ask for eyes to see and courage to respond with small, faithful steps.
Friends, let’s notice the person in front of us. Ask a name. Offer help. Invite in. Speak Jesus with gentleness and joy. May our city come to know the crucified and risen Lord because his people chose not to miss the moment.
Join us on 14 March 2026 for our Urban Mission Conference that will explore how migration shapes sharing the gospel in London.
LCM shares the gospel alongside the local church of London, equipping everyday Christians to lovingly bring a message of hope in Christ to those least likely to hear it.
Registered Charity No. 247186
