From refugee to refuge

Someone has said that the Bible calls for compassion, salvation and equality. Due to our own closely held worldview we may be tempted to misinterpret scripture to assuage our own guilt and fear--or justify our actions-- which can lack compassion, the gift of salvation or encourage division and breed inequality.

Refugees are one of those issues for the world right now. Refugees exist throughout the pages of the Bible. I think firstly of Abraham and then the subsequent others who come along after him--Hagar, Jacob's sons, Moses, the Israelites...Jesus.

Matthew 25:34-30 talks about how we should treat refugees.

Personally, I strive to live out this scripture and have committed my life and literal vocation to doing just that but I know at times I fall short. I don't want to be apathetic to anything that is close to the heart of God and have no interest in being detached from the struggle, pain and suffering that many of our fellow humans live. In other words, I don't want to be another cog in the machine and a part of the problem. I believe in a God who is the solution and want to be a bringer of that news of everlasting hope.

But being comfortable is so nice--especially as a "righteous" person. We do a lot of good--the "most good." And it can be complacent every now and again.

And this is where I--perhaps we--go wrong. We cannot be truly "comfortable" when the least of these is not. And they are not. Some here in our own streets in Roanoke, in our programs, and some around the world. LORD, I don't want to just be another do gooder. I want to live out what I fervently attempt to preach and teach.

The most interaction I have personally with international refugees is during Christmastime as our Angel Tree program provides new toys, coats and clothes. I am always humbled by the resiliency and fervor for life these warriors possess.

Spending a couple of weeks in Europe allowed me to see this international refugee crisis issue up close and personal and it was convicting, awkward and uncomfortable. We saw firsthand the struggle and the pain for some refugees.

In a remote part of Italy we learned how refugees are cared for and attempt to integrate into the community.

In another city we were stuck on an overly crowded bus where a verbal altercation turned physical altercation broke out between a refugee and an Italian man. The tension was more than palpable as the overly crowded bus of co-conspirators were bystanders and participants as the situation rolled on off the bus. I prayed for compassion in those moments and my heart felt sick for the entire situation.

And then we saw it in another city. And another. And then we came home.

Here Andy and I were, on holiday as Americans, witnessing and experiencing things as we blended in like everyone else who does not see or chooses not to see what is around them and can do so based on unearned privilege. It felt shameful to me.

And then I turn left on the Elm Avenue exit from the interstate every day to see men panhandling and they are, in a way, refugees. Sometimes I make eye contact, which encourages an active attempt at solicitation when really all I want is to acknowledge their humanity and fulfill my desire for connection with their daily struggle from a safe distance. And then I say a quick pray for them as I hit the gas pedal, of course.

They have no sense of safety or belonging. Everyone feels better if we don't see them or have to interact with them. We-the people of God--ignore them. Sometimes we may try to help, and do help, but we are still in control of it. We still have safety and belonging and they do not.

I believe that striving for biblical justice calls us to be willing to risk our own sense of belonging and, at times, our safety. Imagine how different things would be if we asked the refugees in our sphere of influence what they felt they needed rather than what we think they need. What if we listened rather than spoke? Would our practice to the least of these be different? I'm a relationship person so I'd like to think there would be more time spent on building lasting relationships and less time on giving/doing stuff. You know, kind of like our relationship with Jesus.

What if we built a refuge with the refugees rather than brought a refuge to them? What if we lived out compassion, salvation, and equality to the least of these?