A Prayer to Our Displaced Savior

Let us remember that hope is never too far gone

Dear reader, I’m so excited to share with you that as I’ve stepped into 2026, I’ve headed back to school! This has been a long time in the making, and one I’m both expectant and hopeful about entering into. This month, I began a year-long program to become an accredited immigration advocate. This means that at the end of my program, I will be able to apply to become a Department of Justice–accredited representative and, Lord willing, represent immigrants and refugees through various avenues, including in immigration court.

It doesn’t take me writing this for you to know how divided and polarized our world is today. I myself have to guard my heart and mind by how much news I take in, because it all seems too dire and painful.

Lord, have mercy on us all.

I have to remind myself every day—there is still hope.

There is ALWAYS hope.

The hope is not in what services I might be able to provide, or the shoulder I may be for someone to cry on, or the listening ear to hear of the trauma walked through, or the resounding voice to speak up and fight for advocacy.

No, my hope, OUR hope, is always in Jesus.

But wow—what a humbling journey it is that Jesus offers us invitations to be His hands and feet on this earth. Our voices are so important during these trying times to advocate for justice, and I encourage you to discover your own way to seek justice along with the Prince of Peace.

For now, my emails will be a little less frequent. I’m still here and will pop in more sporadically, as I’m also an advocate for holistic minimalism and do my best not to add something to my plate without setting something else aside for a little while.

So today, here’s my invitation for you to reflect on a prayer to Jesus, our Savior, who Himself fled with His family to another country, as so many have.

How might Jesus be able to identify with so many around the world—or in our own backyards—who are displaced?

Photo by Nitish Meena on Unsplash

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A Prayer to Our Displaced Savior

Jesus, You were so young when it happened—the dream Your dad had, the angel’s warning, the middle-of-the-night decision to leave, the fleeing.

I wonder what Your little body felt as You were suddenly taken away from all You knew and fled from an angry king to a safer place.

Could You feel the adrenaline of Your parents?

Did Your eyes dilate in fear?

Did You feel the comfort of family?

Did You cry out because You knew things were changing, but couldn’t fully understand?

Oh Jesus, our own world has changed greatly—we all feel displaced in some form or another.

The loneliness is palpable.

The polarized views are hostile.

The anger surging through our veins makes our vile words and actions feel justified,

while all the while we’re just searching for home—
a home found in the wholeness of You.

Jesus, Savior who was displaced, what was it like for You to settle in a new land?

What hardships did Your parents try to shield You from?
Adult conversations held in the whispers of the night.

Where did You find Yourself at home when everything had changed?

Where did Your body calm?

You began your time in this world not from a place of power, but from one of displacement.

Oh God, in the displacement we feel in our own lives and world, invite us into the home of You.

Into the knowing arms of the One who always holds us.

Into the kind gaze of the One who sees us.

Into the soft, strong voice of the One who advocates for us and with us.

God, may we invite those around us to experience home in You, through us.

May we invite others, no matter their opinions, into a listening, kind space.

May we hold others into the Light who don’t feel like they can on their own.

May we remember we are always held, never alone, and dearly loved—
no matter our status, nationality, religious beliefs, or political opinions.

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