Day 85. I have chosen to live intentionally toward the goals, dreams and desires God has placed on my heart for the last 90 days of 2019, pressing past fear, excuses and discomfort. Today’s goal: fostering embodied faith.
During seminary, when my husband and I could not find a church who would welcome us, a black/white interracial couple, or who would not welcome me, a female pursuing pastoral leadership, the journey of faith was quite lonely. We became accustomed to the looks, comments, reluctance to serve one or both of us communion and blatant gestures of disrespect. Our experience in the church in our early years of marriage was inhospitable and hostile.
Even still, I pursued church internships for two years, but the doors were always closed. The final door slammed in my face, as an enthusiastic pastor set up a phone interview via email with candidate, Kim Whetstone. Within 30 seconds, the interview abruptly came to an end as he realized this Kim was indeed female, and in his eyes, unfit for ministry. I began praying about places I could serve, and the door opened to intern at World Relief in refugee resettlement.
For two years, I taught ESL for pre-literate learners, welcoming, equipping and learning from refugees from Somalia, Iraq, Afghanistan, Liberia, Rwanda, and Eritrea. On my first day, in their limited English, they smiled, hugged me, kissed my cheeks three times, and giggled as they shouted, “Teacha! Teacha!” and watched me scramble from table to table.
When I was expecting my first child, they stood to their feet, shouted for joy, clapped their hands and danced. They drew pictures of their homeland on pieces of cloth that were sown together into a baby blanket, which I have to this day. Christians, Muslims, religions I never knew of, embraced my family and blessed the little life in my belly. Hospitality. Kindness. Welcome. This is what my refugee teachers showed me.
When Fatima*, was in a horrible car accident, my husband and I went to visit her. Unannounced, we were welcomed into her small, two bedroom apartment where her family of 9 lived. Kindness. Enthusiasm. Hugs. Claps. Three kisses for our cheeks.vThis is how we were welcomed. Her cupboards were bare, except for 9 eggs, 1/2 jar of peanut butter and two cans of orange soda. As we sat down, Fatima shouted orders in Arabic into the other room. Soon 6 boiled eggs and two cans of orange soda were placed before us. With her wide smile, she gestured “Eat.”
We navigated our way through her limited English and my even more limited Arabic with an elaborate game of charades. Toward the end of our time, she gestured to her beautiful, dark brown skin. Then she gestured to my husband’s beautiful, dark brown skin, observing, “You look like me. You and me, the same.” She then gestured, to me, “You love him.” She gestured to my husband, “You love her.” Then she said, “You love him, and he is like me. You are my sister. Allah Akbar. I thank God for you.”
In the living room of a Muslim refugee who bore the physical scars of flames and machetes, we were seen, welcomed, embraced and celebrated. We were loved…radically, loved, and shown hospitality like we had never experienced it before. When people ask me why I am so passionate about refugee and immigrant rights, this is why. When the church had no place for us, we found love, care and welcome and Jesus in the friendship of refugees, whose hope, resilience, deep faith, perseverance and radical love and hospitality, challenged us to love more deeply.
For day 85, I signed a petition at www.blackout4refugees.org. to advocate for a law, the GRACE Act, which would guarantee the Presidential Determination for refugees would never fall below 95,000. The current administration has proposed only 18,000 for the year a ahead, far below the 95,000 yearly goal for admissions since the Refugee Act of 1980. Will you join me in loving our refugee neighbors?
ACTION STEP: Go to www.blackout4refugees.org become informed. Act. Let your faith move your body to action.
*Named changed to protect confidentiality.
