
Much of my life, I have been an immigrant. Born in Oklahoma City, I emigrated at age 6 with my mother and sister to Japan in 1947 to join my father, an Army chaplain, as some of the first civilians to enter Japan after World War II.
We were stared at, laughed at and wondered at. My mother had red hair and many had never seen a red-haired person before. At times, we were shouted at angrily.
However, my father still chose to live off base to better get to know the people and their culture. Our nearly two years there formed the backdrop that has shaped my attitude toward immigrants.
In 1965, I emigrated to Costa Rica for two years to work with university students. There, I met and married my wife, who has been an immigrant ever since we married in 1967 and returned to live in the U.S.
After I graduated with my Master of Divinity, we spent the next 37 years working in the Dominican Republic, Mexico, and Costa Rica. For 13 of those years, our family encountered a challenge many missionaries face when navigating other nations’ stances on religious workers.
We lived and worked as “illegal immigrants” in Mexico because, at that time, its constitution prohibited foreign clergy from operating there. At one point during those 13 years, I was deported from Mexico because border agents discovered I was living there on a tourist visa— briefly separating me from my wife and children in Mexico City.
Beyond their upbringing as missionary kids, our four children have pursued careers and travel that have led them to live and minister as immigrants in places such as China, Yemen, Uzbekistan, Afghanistan, Indonesia, Iran, Cyprus and Turkey. All these experiences have developed in our family a broad worldview rather than one centered on a single nation, though our children were raised as U.S. citizens abroad. We have learned to appreciate and rejoice in the traditions of many countries.
We know the stress of learning another language and of wondering whether or when government officials might force us to leave. We have experienced the challenge of having children who lived, worked and shared the gospel in countries such as Iran, Afghanistan, Yemen and China. We’ve struggled with how to help our children appreciate the culture in which they were living at the time, as well as the cultures of our “home countries.”
We know the sadness of being separated from family for years at a time, especially when fathers and mothers became ill or passed away while we were prevented by work requirements or the cost of travel from being there to support them.
That is why, as tensions around immigration enforcement have increased over the last year, we hurt with our immigrant friends—especially those who are undocumented—when they have to live at their workplaces because they fear traveling to and from work lest they be arrested. That is why we have gone to pick up their children’s schoolbooks so they can keep up with homework when their parents are afraid to take them to school.
Being an undocumented immigrant in the U.S. is a legal issue and should be addressed. Still, it is generally a misdemeanor, not a criminal offense, and should be treated as such. At the same time, as a nation, we need to overhaul our immigration laws to account for our country’s dependence on immigrants for labor in nearly every sector of our economy.
However, though my personal experience is extensive, my attitude toward immigrants has been shaped most by what the Bible says about them. Both the Old Testament and the New Testament provide clear instruction and examples of the attitude we should have. There are more than 50 commands in the Old Testament alone regarding how the people of God should relate to immigrants.
In Exodus, Israel is reminded, “You shall not wrong or oppress a resident alien; for you were aliens in the land of Egypt.”
Later in Leviticus, they are told, “When a foreigner resides among you in your land, you shall not mistreat him … Love him as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt.”
In Deuteronomy 10:19, again, Israel’s own experience is the backdrop for the reminder: “You shall also love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”
Throughout the Old Testament, as time and distance from Israel’s sojourn in Egypt threatened to erase its memory, God did not allow the people to neglect their duty to those who had to flee their homes.
Jesus also spoke on the issue in the New Testament.
In Matthew 25, he personalizes the call even further: “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.” When did his followers serve him? “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.”
In most of the Old Testament passages, the basis for how the people were to treat immigrants was that they themselves had once been immigrants in Egypt. But I believe the repeated reference to their experience as foreigners was less about their enslavement and more about forming in them a kingdom mindset.
In other words, as followers of God, we should view ourselves as temporary residents in whatever country we inhabit, finding our deepest sense of belonging in the reality that we are citizens of God’s kingdom. As proud as we might be to be U.S. citizens (or Thai citizens or citizens of Mozambique), our temporal identity as citizens of a specific nation should not trump our identity as children of God—children called to treat immigrants as people made in God’s image, worthy of the rights and dignity that being made in God’s image confers on every human being, not just on citizens of our nation.
It is through this lens that I believe Christians must view our immigration policies and how we enforce them: As sojourners remembering that we, too, are strangers in exile until we are called to our forever home.

