The Urban Exodus and Exile

New York City—my home—is a cramped, chaotic cacophony of blaring sirens and swarming, murmuring crowds, and not to mention expensive. In Houston or Los Angeles, thick, slithering, concrete highways wrap around almost every neighborhood. London and São Paulo are grey with small blotches of green. In Johannesburg, Africa’s city of gold, crime lurks in alleyways and on street corners as the sun dips beneath the surrounding hills.

In recent years, many Americans have noticed this ugly underbelly of urban life. In response, they have reversed the “back to the city” trend of a decade or more and packed their bags and retreated to silent suburbia and quaint towns, seeking an idyllic, quiet life where the hum of traffic is often reduced to the occasional cars that pass each other on Main Street. This kind of decline was already in motion before the pandemic, with nearly 400,000 people leaving big cities per year towards the end of the 2010’s. This exodus exploded during Covid. And, while many Americans are now returning to cities like New York and Los Angeles since the pandemic, many cities are still experiencing a sharp decline in young families. New York City alone has experienced a 19.3% decrease in children aged 0-4 living in any of the five boroughs over the past few years.

One “unapologetically Christian” influencer account on X picked up on these demographic trends, framing the relocation from cities to small towns as the Christian ideal and innately pro-family. According to one New York Times article, some Christians in cities today see themselves as living in an urban “Negative World,” where being openly Christian is a “social negative.” Life in this “increasingly hostile and disordered secular culture” has caused many families to seek refuge behind white picket fences and more acres of land, alongside a more like-minded community.

There is nothing inherently wrong with leaving cities. Many New Yorkers that I know understand what it’s like to get consistently steamrolled by the corporate world or to hardly see any green leaves from November to March. I have friends who have been insulted or assaulted on the subway. City life is not for everyone. The pandemic brought many New Yorkers unique loss, weariness, and burnout (not to mention a rise in crime), which makes change very desirable. Nevertheless, to leave the city largely because of a belief that suburbia or small towns are innately better—even innately more Christian—is a mistake. Likewise, to assume that the negative aspects of the city are normative for all its population is also a mistake.

The romanticized small town, which some influencers online have persistently pumped onto their feeds, shapes the average scroller to believe urban life is necessarily unhealthy, lonely, or a life where it is practically impossible to raise a good family. This perspective may cast the city as conceptually and innately rotten, with few to no redeeming qualities.

This idea of cities as inherently inferior in and of themselves is incongruent with how the biblical authors envision the city. Now, to be fair, the first close-up of a city in Scripture does not paint the concept of urban life in a positive light, but Genesis makes it clear that it was the sinful thinking behind the city of Babel that led to its overthrow. Babel’s builders undertook their ambitious project to make a name for themselves, and to prevent themselves from spreading out and filling the earth (Genesis 11:4). They founded their city as an act of disobedience to the command to be fruitful and multiply (1:28). In this story, the reader sees a people united against God’s commands, and that is why the city fails, and Babel becomes the archetype of a deeply disordered people united against God.

Yet, Babel is far from the Bible’s final word on the city. It should not be the sole lens through which we approach urban life. When the Israelites take possession of the land and form a united monarchy under David, God reveals to David that Solomon will build him a temple (2 Samuel 7:13 cf. 1 Kings 5:3–5). Here God will no longer tabernacle in a tent, but in an ornate palace in the middle of Israel’s capital city (1 Kings 6:13). God’s presence is at the heart of his people’s nation. It is as if the temple was built in modern-day Tokyo, Brasília, or Madrid, not atop mount Fuji.

In the late 7th century BC, the Babylonian Empire swept through the Ancient Near East, conquering numerous kingdoms. Instead of destroying the cities and enslaving the native people like their Assyrian predecessors, the Babylonians would sack the city and deport its best and brightest back to Babylon. This way, the conquerors left their newly acquired territory intact and still able to give tribute, while assimilating the best minds of the conquered people into their kingdom. These captives were sent to reeducation programs and usually adopted a new Babylonian name and lifestyle. They would be stripped of every tie to their homeland. This was where Daniel and his friends found themselves:

“In the third year of the reign of Jehoiakim king of Judah, Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon came to Jerusalem and besieged it. And the Lord delivered Jehoiakim king of Judah into his hand, along with some of the articles from the temple of God. These he carried off to the temple of his god in Babylonia and put in the treasure house of his god.

Then the king ordered Ashpenaz, chief of his court officials, to bring into the king’s service some of the Israelites from the royal family and the nobility— young men without any physical defect, handsome, showing aptitude for every kind of learning, well informed, quick to understand, and qualified to serve in the king’s palace. He was to teach them the language and literature of the Babylonians. The king assigned them a daily amount of food and wine from the king’s table. They were to be trained for three years, and after that they were to enter the king’s service.

Among those who were chosen were some from Judah: Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah. The chief official gave them new names: to Daniel, the name Belteshazzar; to Hananiah, Shadrach; to Mishael, Meshach; and to Azariah, Abednego.” (Daniel 1:1–7, NIV)

Other Israelites, like Ezekiel, were relocated across the empire and allowed to build homes and form communities. They could even live with their families on land allotted to them by their new government. Ezra tells us that the exiles returned to Judah from different places in the empire, implying that the Jewish exiles were not necessarily all concentrated in the capital city (2:59).

For the exiles, being away from Jerusalem (and therefore the temple) in these foreign cities would have evoked the idea of being alienated from God entirely. These were places where God was supposedly not present. Moreover, they were stuck in a city that was also emblematic of the spirit already present in Babel: one of rejecting God and exalting human power and influence. Babylon was a hyper-sexualized, idolatrous collection of metropolises where ambitious people immigrated for wealth and influence; a Costco-sized Babel. As the reader studies the situation closely, he or she will realize that the exilic ground becomes increasingly hostile by the page. However, the Israelites’ displacement was nothing accidental. Jeremiah is clear that they were sent into exile by God for a purpose.

“This is what the Lord Almighty, the God of Israel, says to all those I carried into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: “Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease. Also, 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.” (Jeremiah 29:4–7, NIV).

God’s people are explicitly commanded to seek the welfare of this pagan country and city where they have been intentionally placed. The city where what was perceived to be normal ran counter to what the Torah deemed good and just. Hence, it is not surprising that this kind of city was one of the worst places an Israelite could have imagined living in. To seek the flourishing of such an enemy of Israel could easily seem ridiculous. Jesus’ audience may also have thought so (Matthew 5:43–48). Jonah was hesitant to preach against Nineveh, “that great city” (Jonah 1:2, 3:2, 4:11) precisely because of this kind of wickedness (cf. Nahum 3:1–4). Jonah’s heart beat for Nineveh to receive God’s justice, and it dropped when the metropolis repented and the Lord relented (Jonah 3:4–4:3). Jonah’s view of Nineveh was not very far off from how many Israelites viewed the average gentile city.

Likewise, the reason Habakkuk was shocked when the Lord told him that he would use the Babylonians and Persians for his purposes was precisely because these were such wicked nations and cities (Habakkuk 1:6). How could a good and holy God use such wicked cities for anything good? What seemed unthinkable to this prophet underscores a larger principle: the means of God’s active kingship can extend even to that which we think is abhorrent and wicked. Likewise, God’s plan from the beginning was to use human beings as part of the means through which he rules the world. This is why he commands us to fill the earth and rule it, but also to fill our cities with goodness (Genesis 1:28; Jer. 29:4–7). Corrupt cities and governments are all part of the earth we are called to fill and rule over as vice-regents with God, and hence, he calls us to be the emissaries of his kingdom on earth there. Abraham Kuyper’s oft-quoted words ring true here: “There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry: “Mine!’” (Psalm. 24:1, cf. 103:19; Ephesians 6:20).

Yet, can we really re-contextualize these ideas to modern times? Should we deem the New York Citys, Washington D.C.s, Londons, and São Paulos of the world as modern day Ninevehs or Babylons? The New Testament writers would certainly not disagree with such a claim. Just as the Israelites were exiles in the Babylon back then, we are exiles in today’s cities. Peter had no issue re-contextualizing the concept of Babylon and making it applicable to his readers in Rome. Peter’s audience were most likely churches scattered throughout Roman-occupied Asia minor in modern day Turkey. These Christians were facing fierce kinds of hostility and harassment as they lived in a world in which their faith was also a “social negative” (1 Peter 2:12; 3:16; 4:16). For Peter’s “elect exiles,” Rome was Babylon re-contextualized (1:1–2). You and I are “elect exiles” in New York City, Berlin, or Lahore. Yet nowhere does Jeremiah, Peter, Paul (or Jesus) suggest or advocate for their audience to leave cities altogether. Instead, they tell us to fill the city with goodness, and to overcome present evil with goodness (Romans 12:14–21).

When the Israelites arrived in Babylon, it is easy to reason that they would have two basic options: resistance or assimilation. They had no political power and were reduced to a minority in a large empire with pagan kings and gods. For them, this would have been an increasingly hostile and disordered place to settle. But Jeremiah calls them, as he calls Christians today, to settle in Babylon, be fruitful and multiply, seek its welfare, and even pray for its flourishing while remaining faithful to the Lord. We are (one of) the means through which God has chosen to bring flourishing to today’s cities. This is part of what being the hands and feet of Jesus looks like, even if it’s difficult (cf. Rom. 10:15; Gal 6:17).

Daniel shows his readers that the welfare of the exiles’ city and faithfulness to the Lord are not mutually exclusive. When he is dragged to Nebuchadnezzar’s palace, stripped of his Israelite name, and placed in the city’s cultural reeducation program, Daniel “resolved that he would not defile himself” and eat the food offered to him during the beginning of his stay (Dan. 1:8). This is likely because parts of the food may have been deemed unclean by the Torah, or had been offered to other gods (cf. Ezekiel. 4:13; Hosea 9:3). The text makes it clear that Daniel’s refusal here is a good thing (Dan. 1:9). This kind of faithfulness leads Daniel to incredible success. He eventually became one of the most influential officials in the kingdom (1:17–20; 2:48-49; 5:11–12). In this way, the reader can see that the story of the exile is one marked by simultaneous loyalty and rebellion, but never by escapism or conformity. While Daniel and his exiled friends rise within the ranks of the enemy and serve Babylon, the opening narratives of the book focus on where they draw the line between obedience to God and service to their surrounding city on its terms (Dan. 1–3). In this way, they were able to seek the welfare of their city while living out of their ultimate allegiance to God.

Jesus endorses this approach. After his triumphal entry into Jerusalem (Luke 19:28), the Pharisees hurl many theological traps against Jesus, hoping to find an excuse to execute him. One question they posed was whether it was lawful for a Jew to pay taxes to Caesar (20:21). Luke tells us the Pharisees reasoned that if Jesus answered “no,” then this would allow them to hand him over to the Roman authorities for treason (v.20). Conversely, if Jesus answered “yes,” they imagined he would lose the support of the Jewish people. Here Jesus, like the exiles, is faced with an ostensible dichotomy: resistance or assimilation to Babylon. Instead, he chooses the middle option.

“But he perceived their craftiness, and said to them “Show me a denarius. Whose likeness and inscription does it have?” They said, “Caesar’s.” He said to them, “Then render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” (v.24–25).

The coins would bear an image of Caesar, and thus rightfully belonged to him. By using those coins, the people would implicitly recognize the civil authority of Caesar over the economy, and hence rightfully owe what is due to him. Thus, Caesar’s taxes are legitimate. Likewise, just as the coins intrinsically belong to Caesar because his image is impressed on them, we, bearing God’s image, owe ultimate allegiance to him over Babylon. Here Jesus acknowledges that legitimate servanthood to the city is compatible with an ultimate allegiance to God.

Thus, while many Christians may instinctively fear or avoid today’s secular cities, Scripture frequently invites us to do the opposite. Usually we are not to avoid these sinful places altogether, but instead dwell there with a steadfast mission of redemption. To leave the city without careful thought would be to reject Jeremiah’s call to the exiles.

As one traces the metanarrative of Scripture, he or she will also notice that when Jesus returns and establishes the new heavens and the new earth, he also ushers in a new city. Interestingly, John tells his audience that when Jesus returns, he will tabernacle with his people in that city:

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new. (Revelation 21:1–5a).

Here John draws on imagery from the garden of Eden to show his readers that this new Jerusalem is what the garden was always meant to be: the place where God dwells with his people. Before the Fall, the trajectory of mankind was not meant to be limited to Eden, but it was meant to expand beyond it. John tells us that this city will be over 12,000 stadia in length, width, and diameter (v.16). That measurement is the rough equivalent of the distance between New York City and Dallas. The entire gargantuan, beautiful city will be the true and better Holy of Holies in the Tabernacle, where God’s people will have unrestricted fellowship with him forever (21:22–27). It would be strange for the God of the Bible to fully consummate his eternal reign and have such an aspect of it mirror something inherently sinful. The garden was always meant to become a metropolis.

Yet, that city is not our current reality as exiles. Thus, while acknowledging the sinful and corrupt state of many of the world’s postcard cities, one should not immediately assume that the most Christian thing to do is abort the urban mission. To believe this is to discard the call of transforming and redeeming culture right at its roots, like Daniel and his friends. Cities are still where the world’s mainstream ideas, patterns of thought, and what is generally perceived to be normal are generated and formed. This is why Paul made his theological rounds in pagan Athens, Corinth, and Rome, and why he longed to travel to Spain (which for him, was the end of the known world). If all Christians leave cities, we leave them to become what Jonah already believed Nineveh already was: an irreversible abomination (Jonah 3:4).

Hence, the call is to live as faithful exiles in today’s Babylon. Subversive yet loyal. Jeremiah’s short letter to his kin in exile from Judah could easily be written to the church in New York City. The appeal remains the same: “increase in number, do not decrease” (Jer. 29:6, emphasis mine). Importantly, Jeremiah’s command to us exiles isn’t something new. It is a re-contextualization of the dominion mandate set forth in Genesis 1:28: “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it.” Today, the exilic mission is alive and well, and is still commissioned by that same God who wants his word of life spread to the ends of the earth (Matt. 28:19–20). Seek the true flourishing of the city, because it is unable to do so on its own. God certainly does not want conformity to the city from his people, but an escapist view of the city is just as bad. Rather, the exilic mission is one of transformation and redemption.

Now, while the likes of Paul and Tim Keller preached and taught in urban centers, someone had to soak up the gospel and take it to the small towns. These people remain an important part of God’s missional harvest today. These small towns are also parts of the ends of the earth and therefore, part of the mission field. These places are by no means spiritual paradises; they are likewise spiritual war zones alongside their urban counterparts. These communities have legitimate, pressing, and ugly issues of their own that need to be addressed and redeemed. For instance, cultural Christianity has torn across those living in the American South, almost creating a different gospel altogether (Galatians 1:6–7).

In other words, to move away from the city under the illusion that sin and brokenness are less prevalent is to set oneself up for great disappointment. Both rear their ugly heads to different yet equal intensities inside and outside of cities. Sin shape-shifts from place to place, but its influence and danger remain proportionally the same, whether in rural or urban settings. Small towns need gospel renewal, too. They are not completely isolated from Babylon. The call is not to abandon the small towns either, but it is certainly not picturing rural Appalachia as inherently closer to Jesus’ kingdom than Washington D.C. The call is to plant gardens and raise families in and around Babylon.

Again, don’t misread me here: there’s nothing inherently wrong with the small town. The point here is that it has it also has flaws and advantages. The same is true of the city, even if its sins and brokenness are very apparent and consistently in the spotlight. I promise you, when you arrive at the small town and settle in behind the picket fence, with acres of land, you will eventually find the effects of sin and brokenness, just different in form. Hence, we should not give up on cities expecting family, social, or church life to be necessarily better elsewhere. As Ernest Hemingway puts it in The Sun Also Rises, “going to another country doesn’t make a difference. I’ve tried all that. You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another.”