A few years ago, my American family and I were forced to leave our home in Central Asia with no warning, and under scary circumstances. We got a call, and 24 hours later we were on a plane with a few suitcases and no idea when or if we would ever be able to return. It’s been a couple of years since then, but we’re still realizing how the stress of that experience rattled every one of us.

We’ve been living overseas as immigrants going on nine years now. It’s not easy. Loneliness, confusion, disorientation, and frustration are common companions — especially in the early years in a place — as are wonder, adventure, and hope. Eventually you become friends with locals, but it’s hardly ever the same as a same-culture friendship. You’re never quite “in.” This isn’t a complaint — rather, these experiences inform how I read the story after Jesus’ birth in Matthew 2.

As a father and husband trying to shepherd my family through transition after transition, I can relate to Joseph’s experience. In Matthew 2, we find Joseph sound asleep, having just entertained kings and sages who’ve come to say, “Welcome, sire,” to his baby son. While Joseph sleeps, a man of light and fire consumes his awareness with, “Up! Herod has sent assassins. Run. Run all the way to Egypt and don’t come back. Run now!”

So Joseph packs up his family and runs. Jesus’ earliest memories are those of a refugee, living unwelcome in a strange place, hiding with his family from the megalomania of a Middle Eastern dictator.

I learned last week that Syrian refugees are fleeing to Egypt now, much like Joseph and Mary and their helpless son did. In fact, today’s refugees are passing through Egypt into the rest of North Africa, and risking everything on dinghies and ferries to try to get their children into Europe by sea. The overland routes into legitimate asylum are increasingly blocked or impossible, so they run, hitch, walk, and stagger around the Mediterranean Sea to gamble on a treacherous journey to Europe.

Fathers try to keep the fear out of their eyes as they pack up their families and flee. They play games on the way and pretend to eat while making sure the little ones get enough. They hold it together when the others can’t.

Fathers keep their families moving through disappointment after disappointment, trying to keep the doubt out of their eyes, shouldering the uncertainty alone so the little ones can pretend to feel safe. With no idea what to do and conflicting reports about where they can go, they cling to the last thing they knew: “Run now!”

When my family fled a sketchy situation in Central Asia, we were running toward welcoming family and friends, all of us in good health and (compared to much of the world) well-funded. Even in that condition it rattled us pretty good. How much harder is it for a true refugee?

Fathers like Joseph. Mothers like Mary. Children like Jesus. Refugees with a questionable story.

The politics of refugee migration are complicated, and I don’t have any easy solutions. Like me, you probably have many opinions, and some of them self-contradictory! But I want to ask you not to hide behind the complexity, but rather to follow Jesus to the displaced in your city. Let’s leave the politics of immigration to the politicians for a bit, and let’s look to the immigrant instead.

There are people in your cities and neighborhoods who are far from home. International students, immigrants, and especially refugees. Go out of your way to find them. Learn someone’s name. Learn someone’s story. Make room for Jesus, remembering that Jesus was a refugee Himself. See if you don’t find Him there in unexpected and unimaginable ways.

Todd and his family make disciples of Jesus with Crossworld overseas.