Okay, so this one is personal

Okay, so this one is personal. In 2009 I was ordained by the United Church of Christ to serve in homeless ministry at Friendship House in Wilmington, Delaware. Friendship House is an organization supported by a coalition of churches from all over the theological, economic, and demographic spectrum. Everyone from my white, liberal, suburban church to conservative, inner-city African-American Pentecostals came together for one cause, combating homelessness. It may have been the only thing that raucously diverse group of Christians could agree on, but there was no debate on the Gospel imperative to provide a sanctuary and a stepping stone for persons in need.

There are many reasons people found themselves at Friendship House. Usually it was a combination of reasons. During my time there I was privileged to walk alongside addicts struggling toward recovery. More than once I pulled veterans broken by combat out of pools of their own vomit brought on by the drunkenness they used to mask their existential pain. Some of the men with whom I shared coffee in the church basement had mental health problems preventing them from being able to hold a job or keep a roof over their heads. In addition, our client base contained women and children fleeing abuse, hard workers whose jobs had been eliminated by technology, gay and transgendered youth abandoned by their families, and tenants who were never late on their rent but lost their home because the landlord was foreclosed upon.

Finally, we also had a number of international clients. Most of the so-called “illegal immigrants” I encountered were brought as young children by their parents to the United States. Willing to work, and through no fault of their own, they had no access to the legal documents that would have allowed them to get the jobs necessary to get them off the streets. We also had a handful of people who met the traditional definition of refugee, including former Vietnamese “boat people,” Bosnians fleeing ethnic cleansing, and Central Americans escaping drug cartel violence.

This is why the national refugee debate of the past week has left me so troubled. I fully understand that national security matters. I am not naive. There are terrible people doing terrible things all around the world. At the same time, homelessness and refugees are not abstract concepts for me. Five years after leaving to pursue another call I still tear up when I read the names on Friendship House’s virtual cemetery. I knew these people. Each name once had a face. Each one had a story. Each once had a family. Each one was made in the image of God.

It is this reality that I pray we do not forget while grieving from last week’s terror attacks in Paris, Beirut, and Baghdad. Even as law enforcement and the military seeks to defeat ISIS on the battlefield, we as individuals also have the opportunity make a difference. The easiest way to do this is to start where we are. Remember that victims of terrorism include not only the French people, but also the innocent civilians of Syria, Lebanon and Iraq. Middle Eastern refugees already go through an intensive vetting process. This screening process is important, but no absolute guarantee of safety. As demonstrated by the fact that most of the Paris attackers were apparently native born French citizens, closing our doors to all refugees does nothing to improve our safety and merely plays into the twisted narrative of those against whom we struggle.

The rise of ISIS, Al Qaeda, and Boko Haram are all manifestations of a greater struggle going on within Islam. Muslim theologians have reminded us once more that terrorism is a corruption of Islam. They are also increasingly active in seeking to reclaim their faith and deal with the many very real challenges within the Muslim world. They are taking the lead, and this is the way it has to be. As a Christian, I am not a part of that intra-Muslim debate. ISIS is not interested in what I have to say.

Even though we as individual American Christians cannot eliminate terrorism, we are not helpless. In fact, we have a responsibility given to us by our Savior. Jesus tells us specifically how to respond to our enemies. We are to pray for them. As Christians we pray because we know from experience that no one is beyond redemption. The Apostle Paul is an example of an enemy of Christ who became one the most influential Christians of all time.

Jesus also told us explicitly how to care for the poor and oppressed of our world in Matthew 25:31-46. Let those words help shape our response to this crisis. Few people are more poor or oppressed than refugees. Of course, as has been pointed out in the news this week, there are others who need our care. From experience I can affirm the importance of caring for homeless veterans. Years of my life were spent dedicated to that very cause.

That said, it is patently unfair to use homeless veterans as a rationale for not also welcoming refugees. It is an utterly false dichotomy. Unfortunately, there is plenty of need in the world. Cold, hunger, and lack of shelter affected all of Friendship House’s clients the same way, no matter how they ended up in that situation. It is my fervent hope that everyone who is trying to make this unhelpful comparison is truly as generous to homeless veterans as they sound. Sadly, my experience has taught me that this is too often used as an excuse for personal inaction.

For us who follow Christ, rather than giving into the fear and isolation, I would like to propose that we take Jesus seriously on his challenge to care for the “least of these.” There are many ways to do this. We can give financially. We can get involved in a hands on way, volunteering in shelters, making welcome kits, or sponsoring refugees. We can educate ourselves and others. Speak out. We can pray for ourselves, our leaders, and everyone who affected by the violence of our world, victims and perpetrators alike. Members of the Disciples of Christ can turn to our denomination’s Week of Compassion website for information on what is happening within our church.

As I discovered in my time at Friendship House, compassion is not restricted to one particular theological flavor. Other organizations (some faith based, some not) are reaching out in ways that reflect their tradition and local needs. In the field of refugee ministry, one organization that reminds me a lot of Friendship House’s networked model of ministry is Arrive Ministries in Minneapolis/St. Paul. Ever since I was introduced to them a few years ago by a colleague, I have been impressed by the work that they are doing. Copy some of their best practices and prayerfully apply some of those ideas to your particular location. Get involved. Share some of your successful ideas with others, and together we can make a tangible difference in the world around us.

As I said at the beginning, this one is personal for me. My time at Friendship House taught me that nothing is beyond hope. Even when terrorism and violence seem to be taking over. If Jesus is who he says he is, we have nothing to fear. We proclaim his victory over sin and death. Secure in that grace, how can we not extend that grace to others?

Whether on the streets of Wilmington, Paris, Beirut, Baghdad, or Dexter, Missouri we cannot ignore the cries of the hungry, the thirsty, or the stranger. Whether we have met them or not, Christ knows these people. Each face has a name. Each one has a story. Each one once had a family. Each one is made in the image of God.