With Who?

An essential truth in the story of Emmanuel, especially in our current climate, is this: the “us” in God with us is not confined to any political party, race, nation, founding document, church, or movement.

When God says, “I will be with you,” that promise has never been exclusive. His withness has never belonged only to Jews or Gentiles, Catholics or Pentecostals, Israelites or Arabs, the political right or left, the West or the East. He is not more with my church than with another.

As I write this, I’m certainly not standing on my holy hill, as if I had this love of the other nailed down. In fact, I’m writing this from a place of need. I’ve been sensing the invitation to contemplate the withness of God, specifically for those I disagree with. As my eyes roll, and my heart judges those who are in the “other” camps, I’ve been attempting to picture God with them. Not necessarily in agreement with them, nor with me. I’m under no illusion that God is on my side. He cannot be recruited into our agendas or reduced to our talking points. He refuses to be contained within our partisan lines or ideological camps. And He’s certainly not a mascot for our movements or a tool for our narratives.

So when I say “with” I mean in the deepest, most important sense of the word. God’s presence (”with us”) signifies nearness, companionship, and grace extended amid the messiness of humanity, while agreement or approval implies endorsement of our actions or beliefs. Presence is relational and unconditional in its offer; it’s God drawing close as seen when Jesus ate with tax collectors and sinners, not to affirm their exploitation but to invite repentance: “I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance” (Luke 5:32).

So, back to my eye-rolling judgment. With God’s approval or agreement off the table, it helps me to remember that His withness is for everyone.

He was with Hagar, an Egyptian slave who declared, “You are the God who sees me.”
He was with a fugitive murderer at a burning bush.
He was with Rahab—a Canaanite and a prostitute, an enemy of Israel—who became part of Jesus’ lineage.
He was with Gideon and Thomas in their doubt.
He was with Ruth, a Moabite from a people Israel despised.
He was with Cornelius, a Gentile soldier, and his entire household.
He was with the Samaritan woman at the well, from a people the Jews avoided.
And Paul told pagan Athenians that God was not far from any one of them.

The “us” in God with us is far wider than we have dared to believe. If I can be aware of His withness with me in my mess, then I must learn to be aware of His withness amongst whoever I’m tempted to “other.”

So perhaps the question is not, “Who is included in the us?”
But whether we are willing to see just how expansive God’s presence has always been.