I don’t know if I should be shaking with anger or wringing my hands in disappointment. Or maybe I just want to hang my head and close my eyes and cry. Hiding isn’t productive. Maybe I can channel the anger.
Matthew 25:40 is weighing heavily on my heart today and bringing me to my knees to convict me as a citizen of the society I call home.
Why is it that our desperate need for a (false) sense of security is trumping our sense of responsibility to people in need? People. Humans. Children created in the image of God. I’ve heard the excuses, but that’s all that they are. They are attempts to justify our hesitance, anxiety, resistance, or all-out refusal to help. It’s fear. How can we stop being afraid? Love. LOVE! Fear cannot exist in a place of love. Want to drive out that fear? Forget the wall. Forget the ID cards. Forget sewing a crescent moon on everyone’s lapel or tattooing numbers on forearms. These are not cattle to be herded or demons to be feared. They are people in need of shelter, service, and a great deal of love.
I can hear it now. You’re thinking “Oh, but Katie, you have children. What kind of mother are you for putting them in danger?” My answer is simple. A Christian mother. If I put aside the thought that there are children and families among the refugees and just address the issue of the two children God entrusted to my care, the answer is still simple. I am far FAR more concerned with their salvation and their faith than I am with their safety while here on Earth. Do I want them raised in a home where I only practice my religion for an hour on Sunday? No. Do I want them to see Christianity as a fable we hear about from a book but that doesn’t change anything about us? No. I want them to grow up knowing a living, breathing faithful and faith-filled person who serves her world out of love, ignoring the temptation to cower in fear. As a mother, I am Called to raise my children according to scripture. We teach my four-year-old to share his toys, but I won’t share my extra food when someone needs it? We teach my 15-month-old that kisses make unseen boo-boos all better, but we can’t reach out a brotherly kiss to those who are really hurting? What kind of hypocrite would I be?
We don’t have much, but we have more than most. What I have is not really mine, anyway. It is the Lord’s to do his work. I’ll house a refugee or as many as needed. What better way to open a dialogue than by opening my home and my heart? Vulnerability is not weakness. Grace fills me with the love of God and that love drives out fear from every cavity of my chest. I have hands that work, eyes that see, a heart that loves, and have been blessed with much. Use me, Dear Jesus, to further your Kingdom.
~Wiff Love
Wiff Love 