But this is the new covenant I will make with the people of Israel after those days,” says the LORD. “I will put my instructions deep within them, and I will write them on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people.
Jer 31:33
Reading scripture is mysterious. I have read the entire book of Jeremiah at least three times when I read the entire Bible. However, the words did not "write on my heart" until this reading.
In Jeremiah 29, the prophet writes to the people of Judah who have been forcibly displaced to Babylon. It’s not just a message of survival. It’s a call to build, to plant, to pray, and hold fast to God’s promise even in a foreign land.
I have never been exiled. Jeremiah didn't speak to me until I put myself in another's shoes. When I did it was like walking into a carnival fun-house with warped mirrors and shifting floors. Nothing looked quite right. My reflection stretched tall and twisted sideways. The rules of reality suddenly bent, and the disorientation was dizzying. I imagined then, living in that fun-house, and not just entertaining that as a mental exercise..
That’s what many immigrants, refugees, and displaced people in America must experience every day. A country that promises freedom and dignity becomes a hall of mirrors where words don’t match actions, where justice is distorted, and where belonging is promised but withheld. Today, many immigrants in the United States live in a similarly disorienting reality. It’s like a fun house, without being fun.
Presently, American life is a mirror of contradiction and distortion: "You are welcome here"echoes in a national myth and immigration slogans, while ICE vans now prowl neighborhoods. "The American Dream is for all", except for the policies and prejudices that fence it off. "We are a nation of laws", yet legal protections twist and disappear based on country of origin, skin tone, or political winds. This is the fun-house effect: What is seen is not what's real. Systems pretend to be fair while being fundamentally warped.
In Jeremiah’s letter to the exiles, a divine invitation not to despair is heard. Rather than assimilate blindly, the letter says, be rooted where you are, even if the ground is foreign and shifting.
"Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, for in its welfare you will find your welfare." (Jer. 29:5,7)
To read Jeremiah is to hear God's voice through the chaos. Telling today's undocumented immigrants and refugees, you do belong. Not because the system says so, but because God has not abandoned you. There is a tension between adapting to the land and holding onto a deeper identity. Jeremiah doesn’t tell the exiles to become Babylonians; he tells them to live faithfully in exile. To see the distortion and lies as the temporary empire tricks they are, and not the final word.
And crucially, Jeremiah promises:
"Surely I know the plans I have for you... plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope." (Jer. 29:11)
He doesn’t say run from the distortion, but root yourself in it.
That is not surrender. That is resistance. In this distorted world, immigrants and all who feel disoriented by injustice need this clear vision. Jeremiah offers prophetic glasses. He reminds us that God's truth cuts through the fog. God's future is not distorted. It is real, grounded, and just.
To follow Jeremiah’s vision is an invitation to action. To tell the truth about distortion. We must name the ways our systems deceive, distract, and distort the image of God in our neighbors. To plant gardens anyway. The Farmland Distribution gardens are now rooted, growing, and producing at Creator. Amid injustice, we build communities. We raise families. We open churches. We organize. We worship. That is holy resistance. And, finally, to hold fast to God’s hope. The fun-house is not forever. Babylon is not the final word. God's justice is not a mirage. Instead, it is the real shape of the world being born.
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