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Would You Deport Him?

Why modern “Christian” politics has forgotten the refugee in the manger

I am not an overly religious man, but I have a deep respect for the moral philosophy of Jesus of Nazareth.

Whether you see him as the Son of God or as a radical moral teacher, his message was remarkably consistent. He spoke about love, about humility, about the dangers of wealth and power, and, again and again, about our duty to care for the vulnerable.

That is why I struggle with the way Christianity is invoked in modern British politics.

We often hear that Britain is a “Christian country.” We hear it from politicians who speak proudly of faith, tradition, and heritage. Yet those same voices are often found supporting policies that make life harder for the poor, the displaced, and the desperate.

There is a contradiction here that is hard to ignore. Because if you turn to the texts they claim to follow, compassion for the stranger is not a footnote. It is central.

The First Refugee

The Christmas story is usually wrapped in tinsel and carols, but its reality is far harsher.

Shortly after Jesus’s birth, his family fled their home to escape King Herod’s violence. The Gospel of Matthew tells us they escaped into Egypt to save the child’s life.

They crossed a border for safety.
They fled persecution.
They sought refuge in a foreign land.

By any modern definition, they were asylum seekers.

If that same family arrived today, a young couple from the Middle East carrying a baby and fleeing a tyrant, how would they be received? With warmth? Or with suspicion, detention, and hostile headlines?

It is an uncomfortable question. But it is an honest one.

The central figure of the Christian faith began life as a displaced child. That alone should give pause to anyone who speaks lightly about refugees.

The Ultimate Test

Jesus did not only experience displacement; he taught about it directly.

In Matthew 25, when describing the final judgment, he does not ask people about rituals, identity, or public displays of faith. He asks how they treated the vulnerable.

“I was a stranger and you welcomed me.”

When asked when this happened, he answers:

“Whatever you did for one of the least of these, you did for me.”

It is a striking teaching. In this moral framework, the stranger is not a threat to fear but a test of our humanity.

You don’t have to believe in divine judgment to feel the weight of that idea. It asks a simple question: how do we treat people when they have nothing to offer us in return?

The Good Samaritan

The Parable of the Good Samaritan pushes this even further.

In its original context, Samaritans were viewed as outsiders and enemies. Yet in the story, it is not the religious leaders who help the wounded man, but the foreigner. Compassion, not identity, defines moral worth.

The message is clear: kindness is not limited by nationality, culture, or tribe.

That was radical then. It still is now.

Christianity Without Christ

I sometimes find it striking that those of us outside religion can end up quoting Christ more often than those who claim to speak for him politically.

I support welcoming the vulnerable not because I fear divine punishment, but because I believe a decent society protects people in distress.

But for those who do take the Bible seriously, the mandate is even clearer. The instruction to welcome the stranger appears again and again in scripture.

There is a hollow ring to a politics that celebrates Christian identity while quietly sidelining Christ’s teachings.

Faith can be a source of compassion and moral clarity. But when it is used mainly as a cultural label or a political shield, something essential is lost.

If we want to talk about Christian values, perhaps we should begin where the teachings themselves begin: with mercy, humility, and care for the stranger.

Because if the story is true, even symbolically, you never quite know who that stranger might be.