Finding Hope in Exile

Have you ever found yourself desperately wishing you were anywhere else but where you are? Maybe it's a job you dread, a circumstance you can't escape, or just a season of life that feels impossibly hard. We've all been there—longing for something different, something better than our current reality.

Our world today mirrors that feeling on a collective scale. We're watching grocery prices climb, housing become increasingly unaffordable, and political instability shake the foundations we once trusted. Social media algorithms feed us different realities, making it harder to know what's true. The world feels broken, unstable, uncertain. We're all longing for peace, for justice, for something—or someone—to break through the noise and make sense of it all.

This isn't a new feeling. Thousands of years ago, God's people found themselves in a similar place of desperation.

The book of Jeremiah tells the story of a people who had turned away from God, the source of light and life. They thought they were pursuing the good life, but things began to break down. Wealth accumulated for some while poverty deepened for others. Injustice and corruption grew. Without God's blessing, they had to hustle more for less, relying on unstable political alliances and worshiping man-made gods.

The prophet Jeremiah warned them: destruction was coming. The brutal empire of Babylon was rising, and they had their sights set on God's people. "Turn back to God," Jeremiah pleaded, "and He will rescue you." But the people wouldn't listen.

Babylon invaded. The temple was destroyed. The people were carried off into exile.

Only when they hit rock bottom could they finally see that the things they'd been chasing couldn't save them. Only in exile could they return to God wholeheartedly.

And it's to these exiles—fresh in their captivity, mourning everything they'd lost—that God sent a surprising message through Jeremiah.

God's letter to the exiles wasn't what they expected. He told them to build houses, plant gardens, have families. In other words: settle down. This wasn't going to be a short exile—it would last 70 years, three full generations.

But the most challenging part? God called them to "seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper."

Wait—God was asking them to work for, bless, and pray for Babylon? Their captors? The brutal empire that had destroyed everything they loved?

Yes. And in this unexpected call, God was inviting them to make three profound shifts in posture.

The exiles were captives, taken against their will from their ancestral land. They were second-class citizens under the thumb of a heartless empire. But God called them to live as citizens in their place of captivity—to engage with life rather than merely survive it.

This required accepting the consequences of their actions. Their exile was, in a sense, divine discipline—not cruel punishment, but the loving correction of a perfect Father who wanted to restore them. As Scripture reminds us, "No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it."

Sometimes God allows us to hit rock bottom to shake us out of the things harming us and others. Perhaps it's to lift our heads so we'll finally see Him. The journey back toward healing may be long, but God doesn't ask us to walk it alone.

The exiles mourned deeply—they'd lost everything. Psalm 137 captures their grief: "By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept when we remembered Zion."

Mourning is healthy and necessary in seasons of loss. But God called them to move beyond mourning into mission. Why? Because prolonged mourning can turn into self-pity, preventing us from taking responsibility and recovering the calling God has for us.

God's call to the exiles was the same call He'd given them before: be a light to the nations. Their change in location didn't change their calling. They were still meant to be a blessing, to bring God's peace and prosperity—His justice, mercy, and compassion—to those around them.

When we bless others, something powerful happens. We stop looking inward at our own struggles and start looking upward to God and outward to others. This very act is key to recovering our calling and finding our healing.

The exiles were genuine victims of violence and oppression. But God didn't want them to remain stuck in a victim mentality. Instead, He gave them something powerful: hope for the future.

"For I know the plans I have for you," God declared, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

This wasn't about material wealth or business success. God's prosperity meant His peace, justice, love, transformation, and healing—so that all could know God and enjoy Him forever.

God promised that after 70 years, He would bring them home. But these words pointed beyond that historical moment to something even greater: the coming of Jesus.

Jesus came to walk among us, to die on the cross for our sins, and to open the door for every person to enter into reconciliation with God. But even after His resurrection and ascension, we still wait—just as those exiles waited—for Jesus to come back again and finish what He started.

The book of Revelation gives us a glimpse of that future: a great multitude from every nation, tribe, people, and language, gathered before God's throne. Never again will they hunger or thirst. God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

This is what we're waiting for. This is our hope.

There's a famous painting by Holman Hunt called, "Light of the World" that shows Jesus knocking on a door. If you look closely at the painting you will see that there is no doorknob on the outside.

Jesus stands at the door of our hearts and knocks. He won't force His way in—there's no doorknob on the outside. We must open the door from within.

If you find yourself in your own kind of exile today—whether captive to circumstances, to your own struggles, or to the brokenness of this world—know this: Jesus is knocking. He wants to transform you from captive to citizen, from mourner to missionary, from victim to visionary.

It's His initiative. It's His healing. We simply admit we need Him, open the door, and let Him in.

And as we wait for His return, we have a mission: to seek the peace and prosperity of wherever we find ourselves. To be bringers of hope in our workplaces, schools, neighborhoods, and communities. To live as citizens of heaven even while we're here on earth.

Because when we do, His kingdom breaks out—one transformed life at a time.

This blog post was adapted from Pastor Milissa Ewing's Dec. 7, 2025 sermon. Check out the whole sermon here.