Amidst darkness, glimmers of hope can emerge in the most unexpected places – the minor prophet Obadiah. 

A solitary voice in the Old Testament, in just 21 verses, Obadiah thunders against the Edomites for their heartless exploitation of Judah’s suffering. His ministry delivers a potent message: oppression will be judged (Obadiah 1:10), and ultimately, restoration awaits the afflicted (Obadiah 1:17). 

The Rohingya is a story of a stateless ethnic minority who have been forced to flee and seek precarious refuge in the crowded camps of a neighbouring country. Theirs is a narrative etched in loss, in the trauma of displacement, in the daily struggle for survival. They are, in the truest sense of the word, the oppressed. 

Against a backdrop of hopelessness and despair, an unexpected initiative is taking root – the painstaking work of translating Scripture into the native tongues of those persecuted and dispossessed. This might seem, to some, a peripheral concern amidst the more tangible needs for food, shelter medical care. But to dismiss it would be to misunderstand the fundamental human need for meaning, for connection, for a sense that even in the darkest of times, they are not forgotten – for the Kingdom will be the Lord’s (Obadiah 1:21). 

Giving access to Scripture is an affirmation of identity, a recognition of their inherent worth. To hear God’s Word in one’s own language, the language of their childhood, the language of their hearts, can be a powerful balm to the wounds of displacement. It offers a sense of belonging, a spiritual anchor in a world that has uprooted them.