As I Was Saying is a forum for a variety of perspectives to foster faith-related conversations among our readers with the goal of mutual learning, even in disagreement. Apart from articles written by editorial staff, these perspectives do not necessarily reflect the views of The Banner. The Banner has a subscription to republish articles from Religion News Service. This commentary by Karen Swallow Prior was published April 16 on religionnews.com.
(RNS) — In the late 1970s, the church sent a missionary pastor to the refugee camp in the Philippines where my parents were living to share the gospel of Jesus Christ. A little over a year later, the church sponsored our family to the United States for refugee resettlement. The church gave us a chance at a new life.
I was born in that refugee camp at the most traumatic time in my family’s history. I’ve seen pictures of the refugee camp and have heard horrific stories. For 25 years, I struggled to understand the purpose of my life and wrestled with my identity as a refugee.
The church paved a way for me to discover my purpose and build a meaningful life. Christ followers everywhere must continue that work.
Of the nine organizations that serve alongside my organization, Bethany Christian Services, to serve an average of 85,000 refugees every year, seven are faith-based. Many have close ties to the Christian denominations. But they aren’t the church — and that’s important.
My family resettled in the U.S. in the late 1970s, and the church welcomed us by helping with housing, food and language skills when we felt lost and forgotten. As Christmas approached, local church members showed up on our doorstep with a tree, decorations and a train, and shared the story of the birth of Jesus. And the body of Christ didn’t just show up when my family first resettled—they remained by our side. I was invited to Sunday school, children’s choir, vacation Bible school, and dozens of other events throughout my childhood. Years later, my church family was still there to pray with me as I submitted my life to Christ and was baptized.
It was the church that cried with me and comforted me when I lost four of my children and it was the church that encouraged me and my husband when we became foster parents when the time was right.
It was the church that helped cement my identity first as a child of God when my social, cultural and economic identity was almost unbearably fraught. The church continues to do this for tens of thousands of men, women, children, and families who flee to the United States seeking safety every year.
Throughout my childhood, people either scorned me or praised me for being a refugee. They didn’t try or want to understand me. Even when they did, I didn’t know how to express what it meant. It became so overwhelming that I stopped telling people about my family history. It was far easier to let them think I was from Mississippi, where my family had resettled in the U.S. Over time, I felt and became invisible. This experience is common.
But God saw me. He knew me even before I was in my mother’s womb. He knew the circumstances of my birth and knew that I would one day come to the United States and fulfill his purpose for my life. He knew that purpose would involve graduating from law school to serve in child welfare, international disaster relief, humanitarian aid, and now refugee resettlement.
He knew all of this, and his people helped me get there. More importantly, he sees every refugee and knows all that he has in store for them. He has asked the church to help get them there, too.
That’s why I see a tremendous opportunity for the church at this moment. The suspension of the U.S. Refugee Admission Program and funding for refugees who have already arrived in the United States marks more than a dramatic legislative shift. It is an incredible, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the church to care for these refugees. While they might not match the previous funds dollar-for-dollar in the immediate future, churches can accomplish a great deal, and make a bigger spiritual impact, by showing up to meet practical needs.
The same church that Jesus Christ asked to care for the orphans and widows can help to welcome the refugees among us.
It’s the church that can assist with housing, that can run a food pantry or lead a person to a local food bank. The church can help provide transportation to the grocery store, the bank or job interview.
It is the church that can lament with and comfort a person who is broken and hurting, and offer the only hope that matters by sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ.
I know this because the church has done that for me when I needed comfort and hope the most, throughout my entire life.
Of course, I now work at a faith-based nonprofit focused on serving refugees and others in many of the same ways the church serves them. But the fact is that God didn’t commission faith-based nonprofits and nongovernment organizations to represent him to a hurting world. Jesus asked the church to do that.
It was always the church. And it’s still the church.
(Nhung Hurst is general counsel for Bethany Christian Services. The views expressed in this commentary do not necessarily reflect those of RNS.)