The Geography of Grace: A Law of Asylum
Introduction: A Declaration of War on Human Trafficking
We come this morning to a passage in the law of God that is, to the modern mind, both obscure and startling. It is a law that, if it were understood and applied, would have prevented centuries of misery. It is a law that stands as a stark and glorious rebuke to the slave-trading empires of old, and to the humanistic tyrannies of today. And it is a law that reveals the very heart of the gospel.
Our age is one of chronological snobbery. We look back on the Old Testament, particularly its civil codes, and we imagine a world of harsh, primitive, and unenlightened justice. But this is because we read the Bible through the smog of our own rebellion. We have been catechized by sentimentalists and revolutionaries who despise God's authority, and so we cannot see the wisdom, mercy, and profound justice embedded in His law. We think our modern ideas of compassion are an improvement on God's law, when in fact they are a watery, insipid, and often poisonous substitute for it.
This law concerning fugitive slaves is a cannon shot fired directly into the hull of the pagan worldview. The great empires surrounding Israel, Egypt, Assyria, Babylon, all had treaties and laws that mandated the return of escaped slaves. A slave was property, an economic unit, and the machinery of the state existed to protect such property rights. To harbor a fugitive was to steal from his owner. But here, in the law of God, we find the exact opposite principle. Israel was to be a sanctuary. It was to be a land of refuge. This law established a fundamental principle: a man's life and liberty are more important than another man's property claim. This is a radical idea, and it is a biblical idea.
We must also dispense with the lie that the servitude described in the Bible is equivalent to the race-based chattel slavery of the American South. They are not in the same universe. Biblical servitude was a form of indentured servanthood, a protection against destitution, with a defined end and extensive legal protections. The transatlantic slave trade, on the other hand, was built on the capital crime of man-stealing (Ex. 21:16), a sin the New Testament lists alongside murder and sexual perversion (1 Tim. 1:10). This law in Deuteronomy is one of the clearest demonstrations of the difference. It placed a massive check on the power of masters. If you treated your servant harshly, he could walk away, and the entire nation was forbidden from sending him back. This law made mercy and justice a matter of economic self-interest.
The Text
"You shall not hand over to his master a slave who has escaped from his master to you. He shall live with you in your midst, in the place which he shall choose in one of your gates of the towns where it pleases him; you shall not mistreat him."
(Deuteronomy 23:15-16 LSB)
The Divine Prohibition (v. 15)
The first part of this law is a direct, unambiguous command.
"You shall not hand over to his master a slave who has escaped from his master to you." (Deuteronomy 23:15)
The force of this is absolute. There are no exceptions listed. It does not say, "You shall not hand him over if his master was cruel." It does not say, "You shall not hand him over if he is an Israelite." The law assumes that the very act of fleeing is evidence enough. The servant has voted with his feet. He has fled from a situation of bondage and sought refuge among the people of God. And the people of God are commanded, without qualification, to protect him.
This is a direct polemic against the laws of the surrounding nations. International treaties in the Ancient Near East regularly included clauses requiring the extradition of fugitive slaves. This law sets Israel apart. It makes the land of Israel a geography of grace, a tangible place of asylum. A slave in Damascus or Tyre who heard of this law would know that if he could just make it across the border into Israel, he would be free. This law was a powerful evangelistic tool. It declared that the God of Israel is a God of liberation, a God who sides with the oppressed.
Think of the implications of this. This law fundamentally alters the nature of servitude within Israel. A master knew that if he became abusive or negligent, his servant had a legal and protected right to leave. This incentivized kindness. It forced masters to govern their households with justice and equity, knowing that their workforce could simply walk away and find sanctuary in the next town. This is the genius of God's law. It does not simply forbid sin; it creates structures that make righteousness the path of wisdom. This stands in stark contrast to something like the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 in America, which criminalized the very act of mercy that this law commands. It shows how far a nation can fall when it abandons God's law for its own wicked imaginations.
The Positive Obligation (v. 16)
But the law does not stop with a negative prohibition. It moves to a positive and generous obligation.
"He shall live with you in your midst, in the place which he shall choose in one of your gates of the towns where it pleases him; you shall not mistreat him." (Deuteronomy 23:16)
Notice the layers of grace here. First, "He shall live with you in your midst." The escaped servant is not to be relegated to a refugee camp or treated as a perpetual outsider. He is to be incorporated into the life of the community. He is to dwell among them. This is the principle of hospitality, of welcome.
Second, he is given freedom of choice: "in the place which he shall choose in one of your gates of the towns where it pleases him." This is remarkable. The fugitive is not assigned a place to live. He is not told where he must work. He is given agency. He can survey the land and decide for himself where he wants to settle. He is treated not as a piece of property, but as a man made in the image of God, with desires, preferences, and the right to make decisions for his own life. The law restores the dignity that his former bondage had stripped away.
Third, there is a final command that summarizes the entire principle: "you shall not mistreat him." The word here is often translated as "oppress." You are not to take advantage of his vulnerability. You are not to cheat him in business. You are not to treat him as a second-class citizen. You are to treat him with the same justice and kindness that you would extend to any other resident. This is the application of the broader law to love the sojourner and the stranger, for you were once sojourners in the land of Egypt (Deut. 10:19). The memory of their own redemption from bondage was to fuel their compassion for others in bondage.
The Gospel of Refuge
This law is not just a piece of ancient social policy. It is a beautiful picture of the gospel. It is a type, a shadow, pointing to a much greater reality. For what is every sinner, if not a fugitive slave? We are all born into bondage. We are slaves to sin, slaves to our passions, slaves to the fear of death (Romans 6:16, Hebrews 2:15). Our master is a cruel tyrant. The devil, the world, and our own flesh conspire to keep us in chains. The wages our master pays are death (Romans 6:23).
But we have heard a rumor of a land of refuge. We have heard of a king who offers asylum. We have heard of a kingdom where the fugitive is not turned away, but welcomed. And so, by grace through faith, we flee. We vote with our feet. We run from the kingdom of darkness and we throw ourselves at the gates of the kingdom of God's beloved Son (Colossians 1:13).
And what does the law of that kingdom say? It says, "You shall not hand over to his master a slave who has escaped." Jesus Christ will never turn away a sinner who flees to Him for refuge. He says, "All that the Father gives Me will come to Me, and the one who comes to Me I will certainly not cast out" (John 6:37). Our old master, the devil, may come demanding our return. He may point to our past sins, our record of rebellion. He is the accuser of the brethren. But Jesus, our great High King, stands at the gate and says, "No. He is with Me now. He is under My protection. You have no claim on him."
And He does more than that. He says, "He shall live with you in your midst." We are not just pardoned; we are adopted. We are brought into the household of God. We are made fellow citizens with the saints (Ephesians 2:19). And He says we may choose a place in His kingdom, a place "where it pleases" us. He gives us freedom and a rich inheritance. He gives us spiritual gifts and a place to serve in His church. And He commands that we not be mistreated. He clothes us in His own righteousness, so that no one can lay a charge against us. We are free, and we are safe.
This law in Deuteronomy is a glorious foreshadowing of the great spiritual reality of our salvation. Israel was to be a haven for the physically oppressed because the church, the true Israel of God, is to be a haven for the spiritually oppressed. We, of all people, should be a people of refuge. Our churches should be the safest places on earth for those fleeing the tyranny of sin. We should be a people who never hand a soul back to the dominion of darkness, but rather welcome them, love them, and show them the freedom that is found only in the service of Jesus Christ, whose yoke is easy, and whose burden is light.