When I (D.L.) was young and attending Bible College to be a missionary, I heard a lot of dire statistics. We talked a lot about the 10/40 window, about the explosive growth of Islam around the world, about the burn-out rates of missionaries. We read about culture shock, learned about various religions, grimly prepared ourselves to go to the hardest places, most likely alone, to do the best work for God.
As I was being filled to the brim with all that knowledge, I longed to be of use to somebody in the here and now. All of that waiting and preparing was driving me crazy, and I wasn’t content to wait for some perfect future. When a friend asked if I wanted to help her out with some recently arrived refugee families from Somalia, I jumped at the chance.
That’s when abstract principles became flesh and blood people. The families I befriended were windows to a world where people must fight very hard in order to survive. What started out as simply trying to “practice” my techniques and theologies on others ended up radically changing my life. I started to care about the world, and to see my place in it. My heart was broken by stories of war, violence, and poverty—both in foreign countries and here in America where many refugees must navigate on the margins of society.
Ten years later, and I’ve been hanging out with refugees ever since.
Early on in the experience, my husband Krispin joined me, and together we have learned so much about ourselves, our motivations, and the realities of navigating poverty in America. But perhaps the most gratifying thing we have learned is how addicted we have become to friendships that surprise us—how much our relationships with people from other countries, religions, and socio-economic classes have both blessed and stretched us. Of course, we shouldn’t have been so surprised. After all, when Jesus delivered his most famous sermon, he told us who would be the ones with all the blessings: the poor, the sick, the sad, and the oppressed of the world.
Many of us try very hard not to embody any of these attributes. But being in relationships with refugees—those who are not immigrants here of their own accord, but rather have been forcibly removed due to war and displacement and most likely will never see their home country ever again—forces us to grapple with how we view God's care for the poor, the heartbroken and the foreigner.
Connected to the world
Reaching out and getting involved with refugee ministries connects pastors and congregations with those suffering all over the world. The other day I was reading a National Geographic article on the Syrian refugee crisis. Looking at the tragic pictures and reading of endless days of walking, waiting, fear, and violence, I could feel the anguish of the people involved, not through the power of my own imagination, but because I have a relationship with Mohammed, Hannah, Ali, and Havina, all Kurdish refugees who lived in Syria for many years before coming to Minneapolis. I can feel their sorrow and fear because I have heard their stories while we sat and ate chicken, rice, and lamb. My heart was broken by the situation in Syria because I could not escape the pain in the eyes of my friends sitting in front of me. In that way, they were like Christ. They helped my heart to be broken by the things that break my Father’s heart.
Reaching out to refugee communities gives us an opportunity to demonstrate Christ’s love and take part in the ministry of reconciliation that he has given us. By being in relationship with refugees, we become more aware of the realities of the most vulnerable in our world, and more adept at being in relationships with those who are different from us. We get to actively practice love for our Muslim, Buddhist, and Hindu neighbors in tangible ways. We become unable to ignore the tragedies of the world, forcing us to reckon with ourselves and God in new and deep ways.
Our community is enriched
When we enter into relationships with refugees, we experience relationships that bring about the kingdom of God—and we are all blessed for it. Our cities and communities are being enriched by the diversity of experiences and perspectives that our refugee friends bring. In a very real sense, America is inviting the blessings of Christ every time we welcome the stranger into our lands, our homes, and our lives.
We have been changed and shaped by the hospitality, joy, and fierce commitments to family and culture that I have experienced from my refugee friends.
As I write this, it is Ramadan. All over the city, families are fasting in devotion to God and gathering when the sun sets to pray, eat, and hang out with each other into the wee hours of the night. We have been invited to a few of these Iftar feasts to break the fast, and have been blessed by the delicious food just as much as the sacrifice and kindness that went into preparing it. We see what holy days look like when they are marked by values of generosity and collectivism, and it has caused us to assess how we celebrate–being mindful to center it more on faith and inviting others to join in the good times with us.
Focusing on tangible needs
Refugees come into their host culture with a variety of needs. Most are displaced due to violent conflict, and suffer the emotional and psychological costs of war. Many have lost loved ones and are now the extreme minority in a country where the culture and values are unfamiliar to them. Some, like those from the rural and poorer communities, come with a lack of education (including literacy in their own language) which can severely limit their ability to learn English. But more than financial and educational needs, a refugee is someone who can never return home. And so creating a new place of belonging is of utmost importance.
However, most often they find themselves in places of financial and relational instability. Most refugees are given government assistance for eight months, at which point they are expected to integrate into American culture. For many, this is simply not enough time. A friend of mine, Mama Asha, found herself in America with her four children to support. Soon, her son-in-law and his eight children moved into the same house as her (the daughter had died the previous year). The son-in-law was mentally ill and unable to care for his children. So Mama Asha became the sole adult caretaker, going to English class in the morning and working at a daycare in the afternoons and evenings, seven days a week. She lived in fear of getting sick, because if she even missed one day, she would not be able to pay her (government-subsidized) rent. Because she was so busy and stressed, she was unable to retain much of her English lessons, and therefore would have a hard time finding a better job or getting a driver’s license. She was trapped in a vicious cycle of surviving, and to her America remains a very challenging place.
The church has a wonderful opportunity to step in where the government cannot (a friend of mine envisions pastors and leaders taking up the “month nine” mantle, and providing the same services that our refugee friends still need long after the benefits stop). The tangible ways to help are numerous: tutor adults in English, help children with homework, assist in navigating appointments and community resources, help individuals obtain driving licenses and GED’s, take the families on free or low-cost outings into the community. These are all ways we can help that are easily integrated into even the busiest of American lives.
The unexpected blessing of unexpected friendships
While the tangible needs are real, serving our refugee neighbors has unexpected blessings for the church as well. What begins as a formal relationship of tutoring or navigating community resources often turns into long-term friendships. In the beginning, we were program and task oriented, focused on addressing felt needs. But over time, as we were continually invited to be part of the families we worked with–to sit, eat, celebrate and mourn–we realized how valuable and reciprocal these relationships had become. Many of our refugee friends come from cultures where children are cherished as divine blessings, and so our daughter is often showered with attention, food, and small gifts when we go visiting. She adores her Kurdish and Somali and Burmese aunties and uncles and knows that the feeling is mutual.
We have attended weddings and birthdays and grieving ceremonies; our friends have also been a part of these same momentous occasions in our life. We have been challenged to slow down and focus on relationships, to embrace family and friends as more important than productivity and accomplishing tasks.
While refugees need help with the practicalities of learning how to live life in America, most are also far from friends, family and other emotional support systems. From our friends’ experience, we’ve learned that Americans they meet are uninterested in them at best, and at worst often prejudiced against or frustrated with them. It’s a mutual blessing to sit down together for a meal in friendship, particularly since in many cultures, meals together is at the heart of community life. We’ve experienced much more hospitality than we could ever repay, and our family been so grateful for the friendships we’ve built.
Put yourself in the position of being the cultural and religious minority and experience a small taste of how our refugee and immigrant brothers and sisters feel. Hear stories that make your heart stop. Laugh at toddlers, coo at babies, sit respectfully with elders. Most importantly, never stop praying that the doors in your life would open wide to the love that sees us all.
For more information on getting involved with refugees, we suggest starting by volunteering through a refugee resettlement agency. Our personal favorite is World Relief.
D.L. and Krispin Mayfield have lived and worked within refugee communities in America for over a decade. After spending the past three years ministering with InnerCHANGE in inner-city Minneapolis, they are headed home to the Pacific Northwest to continue to pursue reciprocal relationships with refugees. D.L. has her Master's of TESOL and Krispin has his Master's of Counseling, both of which they try to use to benefit their neighborhoods.
