A photo of the U.S./Mexico border wall near Tijuana
Stock Photo Illustration (Credit: Barbara Zandoval/Unsplash/https://tinyurl.com/2ccvr47r)

Editor’s Note: Rev. Dr. Alexia Salvatierra is a Wild Goose Festival (WGF) co-creator. Good Faith Media is a WGF media partner. The festival will be held from July 11-14 in Union Grove, North Carolina.

Recently, the Centro Latino at Fuller Theological Seminary, in partnership with Sojourners, held the orientation for the sixth cohort of the “Diplomado Superior en la Respuesta de la Iglesia a la Crisis Migratoria” (Professional Certificate in the Response of the Church to the Immigration Crisis).  

The certificate is offered online in English and Spanish, and participants consist of Christian leaders from around the U.S., most of whom are evangelical. The program teaches participants how to welcome and minister to and with migrants. It offers sections on trauma care, legal support, spiritual care and public policy advocacy.  

During the orientation, I sought to find a name for the common expression on each of the 40 faces, each in their Zoom box. It reminded me of an old World War II movie, where the commander speaks to the recruits, preparing them for battle. They are both resolute and frightened, inspired and wondering how much they might lose.

In a very real way, these attendees are going into battle. Anti-immigrant sentiment is at such a fever pitch in this country that each major political party is anxious to show they are more prepared than the other to exclude refugees at the border.  

This makes sense when we are in a self-protective mode. After all, millions are fleeing human rights crises around the world, more than at any time in human history. Those numbers don’t even include the people fleeing ecological disasters created by climate change.  

Latin American migration scholars call this wave of refugees “surplus people.”  For most of us, what it is called is beside the point. We just see a horde of need, and the natural impulse is to lock and double-bolt the door. This is a natural impulse even for immigrants, whether it was just a few moments or generations ago that our family members were running for their lives or toward the dream of a new life. 

But, those who follow Christ should not feel at ease giving in to this impulse. 

I remember the story of Henry Martinez. He was a young man who worked in the Twin Towers in New York on September 11, 2001. Martinez was athletic and could run down the stairs and get out before the building collapsed. 

But as he was leaving, he saw a disabled man sitting on the stairs weeping. 

According to those closest to him, Martinez knew that when everyone else was running away to save themselves, Jesus ran towards them.  

Henry Martinez ran back in and saved the disabled man and over 20 others before he was killed. Jesus runs towards, sharing the suffering and giving whatever he had to save others.

I have looked a refugee child in the eyes. I cannot pretend it is acceptable to shut her out, forcing her to face the violence that threatens her family, all in the name of my own family’s safety. This is more than an emotional reaction. It is a widely accepted international ethical commitment. 

The United Nations (UN) Declaration of Human Rights prevents countries from sending a refugee back to where they will likely experience violent persecution as a result of their race, religion, political opinion, gender or membership in a specific group. Every UN member country, including the United States, has signed the declaration. 

If I want to be a discipleship of Jesus, it is also a spiritual mandate.

Of course, we live in a world of limits. I am a Lutheran pastor and understand we live in the tension of the two kingdoms–a broken, fallen world and the inbreaking kingdom of God. We must discern on an ongoing basis whether turning the other cheek may convert the enemy and whether it may harm the vulnerable.  

Yes, the international community must decide how to divide the refugees and integrate them productively into our societies. We need to manage borders and boundaries well. We must be clear-eyed and honest in dealing with all the complexities of the immigration crisis.

And yet, I’m reminded of the book of Esther. Queen Esther stood before her uncle Mordecai and shared all her reasonable objections after he had called her to risk her life to save her people. He responded with immortal words, “For such a time as this.”  

It is always such a time as this, a time in which we may be called to incarnate Christ, to be the body of Christ together, a role that is almost never safe and secure. The 40 participants in this cohort of the Diplomado are my heroes, the young (and not-so-young) soldiers who have answered the call of love in the midst of a battle zone. 

Pray for them.
Pray for the refugee child at the gate.
Pray for us all.