I spent Monday with
pastor Georges. Georges is the pastor of the Middle Eastern Presbyterian
Fellowship in Tucson, a beautiful soul with a heart full of the Lord. I came to
know Georges first as a colleague, then as a friend, and now it is a privilege
to call him brother. Georges is a Syrian refugee.
I spent Tuesday listening to pastor
Daniel, a teaching elder from a sister denomination in an African country, as
he told the harrowing tale of the assassination attempt on his life following
his refusal to help throw a national election in his home country. Daniel is a
refugee (country of origin withheld to protect his identity) who will, God and
the Presbytery be willing, transfer his membership into the PCUSA.
Many of you know Georges or Daniel,
or perhaps pastor Estawri from Iraq who is leading the new worshipping
community that meets at Bethany in Phoenix. Or one of the Burundi, or one of
the Congolese, or one of the Rwandans who meet at one of the three Presbyterian
churches in Arizona that have ministries with refugees, seeking to enfold them
into their koinonia: Northminster
Tucson, Heritage Phoenix, and Orangewood Phoenix.
These are the faces of refugees.
As most of us encounter from afar
the global refugee crisis, a crisis whose enormity has not been witnessed since
World War II, I ask you to imagine sitting down to coffee with Georges and his
wife Mary to hear their perspective. Imagine the rich, dark aroma of the
especially potent (for Americans) brew, and imagine the exquisite taste of
Mary’s baklava (the best I’ve ever had). Imagine listening to their journey,
their longings for safety for their family that led them to leave their
homeland. Imagine having your own faith emboldened as you hear them bear
witness to God’s providence in leading them to a new home, a new life, a new
ministry.
Now imagine saying to George and
Mary what you have posted on Facebook.Imagine speaking to them with the same
tone you used in discussing world news with your friends. Would your words
change? Would your tone be softened? How might your heart be made new encountering
a refugee in the flesh rather than
merely from the digital distance of our TVs and computers?
It is tempting to give into
narratives of fear, but our faith calls us to live into the promise of hope.
Such hope, according to everything we have ever been taught, beginning in the
earliest lessons in Sunday School, is that God’s hope is not be hoarded but to
be shared with all. Deuteronomy 24: 17
says, “Do not deprive the alien…of justice. Remember that you were slaves in
Egypt and the Lord your God redeemed you from there. That is why I command you to do this.”
Interesting word there: command. Jesus, who was a refugee first
to Earth and then to Egypt, the Son of Man who had nowhere to lay his head, used
the same word in Matthew 28:20, “…teach them to obey everything I have commanded….” Did Jesus command anything related to the
welcome of foreigners, such as people like the Samaritans? Did Jesus command
anything related to living the gospel even if one must take up one’s cross so
to live? Did Jesus command us to open our tables to those found on the
“highways and crossroads” so that his Father’s house may be full? In your own
reading of the Gospels, does Jesus seem to advocate for radical hospitality and
openness to others or lean more toward promoting safety and security above all
else?
Is letting go of narratives of fear to grab hold of
promises of hope, a calling we have or a command
we must obey? Does it really matter?
Grace and peace,
Brad Munroe
P.S.
Click here for a special, educational event on ministry on the border through Frontera de Cristo: (Carolyn, please add
link)
P.P.S.
Click here to read what Gradye Parsons, the stated clerk of General Assembly, wrote
about the refugee crisis: http://www.pcusa.org/news/2015/11/17/choose-welcome-not-fear/
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