In the Old Testament, the word ger (גֵּר, pronounced “gare,”) refers to a stranger or foreigner living among Israel—someone without land, family networks, or the protections of citizenship. In the ancient world, this meant vulnerability. But God’s instructions to Israel were clear: The ger were not to be ignored or exploited—they were to be included, cared for, and welcomed.

More than ancient policy

Other cultures in the ancient Near East, like Mesopotamia under Hammurabi, had laws to protect the powerless. But those laws were often about keeping order. God’s laws were rooted in His covenant love. In Exodus 22:21, Israel is told, “Do not mistreat or oppress a foreigner, for you were foreigners in Egypt.” Their treatment of the ger was tied to their own story of deliverance.

Deuteronomy: From law to worship

Deuteronomy reframes these commands as acts of worship. In 14:28–29, Israel is told to store a special tithe every third year to feed Levites, orphans, widows, and the ger. This wasn’t charity at arm’s length—it was shared life.

Deuteronomy 24:14–22 commands paying workers daily, including foreigners, and leaving part of the harvest for them to gather themselves—preserving dignity and fostering fellowship. Again, Israel is reminded, “Remember that you were slaves in Egypt.”

Deuteronomy 26:1–15 celebrates the tithe as a community event. The ger is named as part of the “household,” joining in worship and blessing.

The prophets speak up

When Israel ignored these instructions, prophets like Amos called them out for trampling the poor (Amos 2:7). Justice for the vulnerable was—and is—central to God’s heart.

Today’s reality

The needs of the ger—refugees, immigrants, displaced people—are still real. Modern refugee policy often values people for economic output, not their humanity. Even in resettlement hubs like Clarkston, Georgia, poverty rates remain high. Too often, newcomers are kept separate instead of welcomed into community.

God’s invitation to us

God’s vision is bigger than meeting needs—it’s about belonging. His law didn’t say, “Help the stranger from a distance.” It says, “Bring them to your table. Let them rest. Celebrate together.”

As people who have been welcomed by God, we’re called to extend that welcome. Imagine seeing our homes, churches, and neighborhoods as places of refuge—not just for people like us, but for anyone in need of belonging. 

That’s the radical hospitality God embedded in His law, and it’s still His invitation today.