by Nardine Sami

“What woman wants to give birth in the street? What woman would accept having her child here? I am afraid of the moment I go into labor… How will I bring my son into this place? This is my first child.”

With these words, a displaced young woman in her twenties, in the final weeks of pregnancy, expressed her deep fear of an unknown future. Since the beginning of the latest war, she has lived in a tent barely fit to sit in, yet it shelters her and her unborn child. When a reporter asked how she was doing, she could find only words devoid of hope to describe her suffering as a young woman without a home or anyone to support her. She wept bitterly, afraid of the future and of what awaited the child whose birth she did not know whether to greet with joy or with dread as an impending tragedy.

Her story is no exception. It reflects a reality repeated across our Arab world: the story of someone who feels there is no place for her in this world, and no place for the one who will come after her. What should be a source of joy becomes a heavy burden. Faced with such tragedies, we as followers of Christ in a broken world cannot avoid the hardest question: What is the church’s role in the face of the world’s tragedies? What is our role toward this young woman and her unborn child?

Keeping Our Eyes on Christ Who Emptied Himself

Christian doctrine is revolutionary. It presents an unfamiliar, perhaps even unsettling, picture of God, particularly in our Arab societies, where many have grown up imagining God as hidden from his creation. Christian faith offers a profoundly different image: the God who is rich and needs nothing nevertheless chose freely to become poor and set aside his glory to draw near to humanity: “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor” (2 Corinthians 8:9).

This truth may seem obvious to us as believers, but deep reflection on God’s character and the way he entered our world changes how we see reality. The Lord Jesus did not come as an earthly king surrounded by the trappings of honor. He entered our world in utmost humility and vulnerability. He was born in harsh circumstances that closely resemble those facing this displaced young woman’s unborn child. Luke describes the scene: “And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn” (Luke 2:6–7).

When I watched the interview with the displaced young woman, this biblical scene came to mind. Mary, a young mother, stands alone and gives birth to her son without shelter or support, in circumstances that appear devoid of hope. Father Matta el-Meskeen (Mathew the Poor) describes this moment in his commentary on Luke: “My heart aches for this mother. How did she bear labor on her own? How did she receive the child in her hands? How did she wrap him while exhausted? What did she drink and eat? This is how the world welcomed the promised Messiah, the hope of all ages, a light of revelation to the nations: in a manger.”[1]

Our God emptied himself for humanity: for everyone crushed by suffering, for everyone who has no place in this world, for that young woman and her unborn child. He declared that hope for the world can be born even in the darkest circumstances. Christ’s birth is more than a story; it is a profound theological declaration: God freely chose to enter the heart of human suffering instead of remaining distant from it. If the church truly wishes to understand its calling, it must keep its eyes fixed on this God, who did not merely observe pain from afar but came near, dwelt within it, and identified with everyone who suffers. Thus every person without shelter or hope becomes a place where we encounter Christ himself.

Self Emptying in the Life of the Church Today

Self emptying (kenosis) is a vital theological concept in Christianity for grasping the depth of the Lord’s love for humanity. It does not mean that the Lord lost his divinity or authority in the incarnation. Rather, he voluntarily laid aside the outward manifestations of divinity and visible glory for humanity’s sake. As the apostle Paul says, “but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men” (Philippians 2:7). This reveals the heart of the Christian faith: the Lord stooped to take the form of a servant, relinquishing every outward sign of glory to draw near to servants and redeem them.

This theological declaration poses the church’s hardest question: Does the church today live the self-emptying life its Lord lived? Does it strip itself of the trappings of glory for the salvation of the world? One troubling trend that helps answer these questions is the self-centered life many believers lead today: a life in which the self sits glorified on the throne, while the Lord has no place in it.

Such a life contradicts the discipleship and self-denial to which the Lord calls us: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself” (Luke 9:23). The first condition the Lord set for anyone who wishes to follow him is self denial: a life of self emptying, in which a person is freed from bondage to the self, gives up every claim to glory and status, and gives of oneself for others. Father Matta el-Meskeen describes the life we believers should live as we follow Christ: “Following Christ cannot be seized by force, nor attained through a life of ease and luxury, or merely through prayers and ritual worship. It requires, first of all, self denial: stripping the self of every motive for display and vain glory.”[2]

Followers of Christ can live this way sincerely only when the self steps down from the throne and the Lord reigns in its place. The self will relinquish its rule in a person’s life only when that person chooses to give it up freely, allowing Christ’s beauty to shine through: “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30).

This challenge exposes a wide gap between theoretical theology and the church’s practice today. Many believers are drawn to forms of ministry esteemed within church circles, such as preaching and leadership, while far fewer are drawn to ministries accorded less recognition and respect, such as serving people struggling with addiction, people without homes, and the marginalized. This contrast exposes an even harder challenge: the theology of self-emptying can become an appealing slogan the church celebrates but often fails to live out.

Going Out into the World with the Right Motives

Another challenge faced by some church ministries recently is the desire to prove their beliefs right amid humanitarian crises, treating human tragedy as an opportunity for doctrinal victory. Despite the time and effort these ministries devote to their work, this approach is far removed from the example the Lord Jesus gave in his ministry. The Lord never exploited human vulnerability to impose an idea, nor did he use suffering as a platform to prove a point. He drew near to those in pain and embraced them with abundant mercy. The Lord’s desire for believers in the world is not intellectual victory but the revelation of his heart toward people in a broken world. His desire for us today is not to enter disputes at people’s expense, but to show his compassion, his heart full of mercy, in a world nearly drained of love, a world that longs, without knowing it, for the heart of Jesus Christ.

The church must therefore care not only about going out into the world but also about what drives it to go. Does it go because it wants to reveal its Lord’s heart toward everyone who suffers, or because it seeks a chance to win while hiding behind the guise of service? In his Word, the Lord reveals the right reason for the church to go out and embrace those who suffer: “For I was hungry and you gave me food… I was a stranger and you welcomed me…” (Matthew 25:35–36). Here Christ reveals that human suffering is not separate from him; he identifies with it. Every act of mercy offered to the crushed is, in truth, offered to him. The church must therefore go into the world because, in the face of each person who suffers, including this young woman and her unborn child, it sees the face of Jesus Christ himself.

The church’s task toward this young woman and her unborn child, and toward everyone who suffers in our Arab context, is to be a living image of the gospel: an image of a God who feels human pain because he has experienced it, and who gave himself for people because he loves them to the end. “By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers” (1 John 3:16).

This call to lay down our lives extends beyond fellow believers. It begins within the church, where believers learn to love one another as the body of Christ, and reaches to the ends of the earth, where they seek to show this love to everyone who has yet to experience it. In the face of the world’s tragedies, the church’s most pressing calling is to turn theology into practice that changes its reality: to give itself for others as Christ gave himself for it, and to lay aside outward glory as its Lord emptied himself of glory and humbled himself to identify with all who suffer. Our call is not simply to reflect on this love but to ask God to enlarge our hearts so that we embrace everyone who suffers and everyone who is broken, just as the Lord has embraced us in his abundant grace.

Nardine Sami from Egypt is a student in the Bachelor of Theology program at Arab Baptist Theological Seminary. She is the 2026 winner of the Ghassan Khalaf Contest.

[1] متى المسكين، الإنجيل بحسب القديس لوقا: دراسة وتفسير وشرح. ط1 (وادي النطرون: مطبعة دير القديس الأنبا مقار، 1998)، 125.

[2]   متى المسكين، مع المسيح في آلامه وموته وقيامته. ط1 (وادي النطرون: مطبعة دير القديس الأنبا مقار، 1961)، 196.