Outcasts and Insiders

“Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink?” (Matthew 25:37, ESV) 

There is a quiet song that hums underneath the pages of Scripture. It is not loud, but it is persistent. God sees the outsider. Again and again, He reaches beyond the borders we build and welcomes those the world forgets. From the earliest chapters of Genesis to the final visions in Revelation, the movement of God’s kingdom tends toward those on the margins. The pattern is not accidental. It is central to how God works.

Presently, the United States benefits from the labor of millions who live and work here without legal status. These men and women serve in fields, kitchens, construction sites, nursing homes, hotels, and countless other places. They are rarely seen in public conversations, but their labor supports much of what we enjoy every day. Some Economists estimate that if all 7 to 8 million undocumented (illegal) workers were removed, the result would be catastrophic. The economy would lose trillions in productivity. Prices would climb dramatically. Native-born and naturalized citizens would lose jobs. The total immediate losses of deportation could reach one trillion dollars. But numbers only tell one part of the truth. The deeper issue is spiritual. What does the way we talk about these people reveal about the way we understand God?

The story of Ruth helps us ask that question. Ruth was a Moabite widow. In Israel, she had no power, no inheritance, no protection. She was an outsider in every way. Yet, she clung to Naomi and walked into a land not her own. Ruth was not assertive or demanding. She quietly asked for permission to glean behind the harvesters, trusting the provision outlined in God’s law. Boaz, a man described as worthy, noticed her. He went beyond what was required, not simply tolerating her presence but protecting her, feeding her, and eventually redeeming her family line. That act of compassion did more than save Ruth from poverty. It tied her into the very lineage of the Messiah. The foreign woman became the great-grandmother of David and a mother in the ancestry of Christ.

This story is not a one-time exception. The Scriptures are filled with similar moments. Joseph was betrayed and sold into slavery, rose in Egypt, and became the means through which God preserved Israel. Rahab, a Canaanite woman living in Jericho, feared the Lord, hid Israelite spies, and was preserved when the city fell. She, too, appears in the genealogy of Jesus. Mephibosheth, the lame son of Jonathan, was hidden away in fear until David sought him out and gave him a permanent seat at the king’s table. Each of these people lived on the outside. They did not belong in the eyes of the world. But God saw them. And more than that, He invited them into His story.

In the ministry of Jesus, this theme becomes even more visible. He touched lepers. He welcomed tax collectors. He healed Roman servants. He sat at the well with a Samaritan woman. In parables, He told stories where the most religious people failed to show mercy, while the least expected characters turned out to be the heroes. The Good Samaritan helped the wounded man on the road when the priest and Levite walked by. The prodigal son, filthy and wasteful, was received with a feast before the older brother could even form a complaint. The kingdom Jesus proclaimed is not built on prestige or pedigree. It is shaped by compassion, humility, and welcome. When He said that the last will be first, He was not offering a metaphor. He was describing how things really work in His kingdom.

The early church took this seriously. In Jerusalem, the first believers shared their possessions so that no one went hungry. When Greek-speaking widows were being neglected, the apostles appointed new servants to make sure they were seen and fed. Paul reminded Gentile Christians that they were once strangers to the promises but now belonged fully in the household of God. He urged Jewish and Gentile believers to see one another not as rivals but as fellow heirs in Christ. The dividing walls were being broken down, not by force, but by sacrificial love.

So, when we consider the place of the undocumented worker today, we cannot simply ask what is legal or efficient. We must ask what is faithful. How do we see those who quietly build our cities, harvest our food, and care for our families? Do we see them as God sees them? Or have we learned to look past them because we are more comfortable with the idea of insiders and outsiders?

The truth is that all of us were once on the outside. All of us have needed a place at the table we did not earn. If God has welcomed us through Christ, how can we build fences around His grace? If we belong, it is only because He made space for us. And if we are to live as citizens of His kingdom, we must do the same.

The margins are where God often begins. If we want to see His hand at work, we would do well to look where the world does not. The outcast might already be part of the story God is telling. And the ones we call outsiders may turn out to be the ones He is calling home.

~PW 🌮🛶