A shared space to encounter God’s marvelous mission among all peoples
Do I dare accept refugees who could hurt us?
A longtime advocate of asylum seekers wrestles with fear and faith in the wake of the Paris attacks.
by Roberta Updegraff
Courage is not simply one of the [Christian] virtues but the form of every virtue at the testing point. —C.S. Lewis
On Friday, November 14, Paris suffered horrendous terrorist attacks, and ISIS not only took the blame, but also promised more of the same in the United States. On Wednesday, November 18, Honduran police arrested five US-bound Syrians who had traveled with fake passports stolen in Greece. No indication has been given of any ties with terrorist organizations; their intent is unknown. However their arrest has fueled concerns about US security.
In my last article on this blog, I wrote about our responsibility, as Christians, as Americans, to welcome refugees through a long-standing legal process. I’ll admit, however, that it does frighten me that terrorists may be among the asylum seekers. And I pray, “Lord, do I dare keep my stand on this issue?”
To dare is to lose my footing momentarily. Not to dare might cost me my faith.
The ecumenical cooperation in my area, United Churches of Lycoming County, invited me to address the annual assembly the day after I learned about the arrest of the Syrians in Honduras. Next year a new focus for UCLC is to be refugee response. After I spoke the assembly broke into groups to discuss the possibilities.
I overheard talk condemning the “fear mongering” of some of our government representatives. And I overhead confessions of genuine fear—the same unsettled questioning I had been putting myself through. I perceived they shared the same off-kilter footing that precipitates the acceptance of a dare.
I spoke that night about Christmas International House, a ministry to foreign students attending our universities and colleges. These international students are often alone for the holidays—the campus is deserted, and they do not have the funds to return home.
One of the persons who introduced me to Christmas International House had hosted Somali and Egyptian Muslims in the years preceding September 11, 2001. Years later when we ran into each other at a conference, she reflected on the friendship she forged with those men over the course of their college careers.
She asked rhetorically if Christian hospitality could have made a difference in the life of one of those 19 hijackers.
‘We took the dare to be vulnerable when we invited Christ to reside in our hearts.’
Another friend invited four Saudi students from a local college into her home for Thanksgiving dinner shortly after September 11th.
One of those young men sent a gift and a letter thanking her for the only invitation he had received to visit an American home—and to get to know an American family.
My own family, over the years, has hosted many exchange students. Each experience enriched our lives and expanded our understanding of other cultures. All of our exchange students made friends at school, but only one was invited to a classmate’s home for supper.
Hospitality, on the surface, seems a simple thing. If only we were not so busy—harried by the responsibilities of life—we would be open to entertaining strangers.
And yet, when we actually entertain the thought of bringing strangers into our homes, trepidation ambushes. The fear grows exponentially when we start thinking, not only about international students in our homes, but refugees in our country.
Should we dare? Our hospitality could be rejected—worse yet, exploited. Suppose one of those strangers turns out to be a murderer? “Suppose we put our families and neighbors in danger?” asked one struggling Christian that evening during our discussion. “Yet how can we not take them in?” she added.
What is the cost in not taking the dare?
And what would have been the cost had no one taken the risk to shelter a pregnant Middle Eastern couple on what we’ve come to celebrate as Christmas Eve? What would have been the cost had no one risked hospitality to the family of three who came from a strange land and practiced a stranger religion, as they fled murderous violence, escaping into Egypt?
We took the dare to be vulnerable when we invited Christ to reside in our hearts. We will never quite have our bearings. For we are not home yet.
As for me? What do I do with the dare God put on my heart to welcome the refugee, to remember that we too were once aliens in a strange land, to open my home to the refugee Christ once again?
I am not a politician. I don’t know whether or not we should allow 10,000 or more vetted “strangers” in our midst. There are incredible risks in taking refugees from a radicalized region of the world.
Yet, they are refugees because they fear the same violent terrorists we do. They have experienced brutality firsthand. They are running from the madmen that hold their homelands captive. They are running hopefully into homelands God has chosen to protect them.
And if God has chosen us, can we NOT dare?
For me, my ministry will be to the strangers in our midst from wherever they come. Let Homeland Security, lobbyists, and advocates wrestle with the logistics of receiving these next waves of “tempest tossed” asylum seekers.
And as for my support for refugees fleeing the countries south of our border? Honduran women and children—mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters all running—afraid of the violence that has beset their country?
Our border, whether we agree on security measures or not, must continue to be their gateway to asylum—their first “safe haven” in their flight from the brutal gangs that rule much of Mexico and Central America.
I will NOT be afraid to receive them.
Will you, with me, respond, “Fear not! The Lord is with us”?
Roberta Updegraff is the author of six mysteries with Guidepost Books and was featured in their compilation Prayers for Every Need. She writes regularly for Presbyterian Disaster Assistance’s Mission Mosaic, and her photographs have been featured on the cover. Her work has appeared in diverse publications including Christianity Today and Focus on the Family. She and her husband support Hogar de Niños Renacer (Home of Reborn Children), an orphanage in Honduras where Roberta volunteers several weeks each year. They live in northern Pennsylvania. Visit her website.