Read part one of our border ministry series here.
Mario Xoca and Meg Flores of Isaiah 55 Ministries in Reynosa, Mexico, described the determination of the immigrants they help by telling of two Honduran brothers, Dorian and Magdy Mendoza, who traveled through Mexico to try to gain entry to the United States.
The brothers rode on top of the freight train “La Bestia” (the beast), a dangerous experience for hundreds of thousands in past years. Dorian fell off the train and was presumed dead. Magdy reluctantly continued to the US, made it across the Rio Grande, and ended up in Houston.
A third brother, Keleth, who had stayed behind in Honduras, then decided to cross Mexico on the same train and get off where his brother fell. He looked and looked and located Dorian, whose foot had been amputated. But they traveled on, came through Reynosa, and joined Magdy in Houston.
Ever since Donald Trump took office on January 20, even more determination has been necessary. Despite the current halt on border crossing, migrants like the Mendozas continue to head north, but they must now “remain in Mexico,” hoping for a path toward asylum in the US.
With immigrants unsure of how to proceed, many churches on the Mexican side of the border are opening their doors to provide shelter and meet other needs.
Xoca grew up in a Presbyterian church in Mexico and now pastors Camino de Fe (Path of Faith), a Reformed church of 60 members that meets in Isaiah 55 Ministries facilities.
In 1998, Xoca began work in Reynosa as a computer science engineer, and from 2007 to 2016, he was an IT manager for an automotive company with four factory plants in Reynosa. Then he felt called to plant a church. It wasn’t long, he said, before he learned, “as a church you can’t be on the border and not be involved in immigration.”
Flores is a deeply involved member of Xoca’s church. Along with other Isaiah 55 staff members, she teaches a weekly Bible, art, and science class for 30 children aged 5–11 in a Reynosa colonia (neighborhood). Staffers and volunteers converted an abandoned house near the Rio Bravo (the Mexican name for the Rio Grande) into a vibrant community center with bright walls displaying children’s artwork.
Now, kids who grew up in Reynosa, along with new arrivals, arrive early for class, racing each other up and down the street and calling out, ¿Cuánto tiempo queda? (“How much longer?”).
Once Flores and her team open the gates, they lead the kids in games and then transition to classes. “A lot of chatter, yelling, and energy, but it’s a joyful chaos,” she said.
Pleasant and unpleasant odors alternate: sometimes the smell of the neighbors’ grilled chicken business, sometimes the stink of trash burning at the dump. Cars pass by with speakers blaring advertisements for tortillas, purified water, or gas for cooking.
But some of the students hear none of that; Isaiah 55 helps not only many immigrant children but also Reynosa residents who are deaf, as well as their parents. Instituto Isaías 55 introduces children to Mexican Sign Language, through which they learn Spanish and receive an education based in Christian understanding.
The Bible class ends with questions, and the kids clammer to be chosen to answer. At the end of class, kids line up for a snack and head out to the patio to play. Many of these children do not attend school; these classes provide their only education.
In past years, migrant children usually stayed in Flores’s classroom for only a week or two until their families had the opportunity to cross into the United States. Now, their stay has no end in sight.
Another unknown is what the militarization of the border will mean. Thousands of US soldiers are now putting wire barriers in place, another sign that the “remain in Mexico” policy is likely to be long-lasting.
Some stuck in Reynosa, with limited resources and the threat of cartel extortion, try to draw strength from wisdom contained in the Spanish expression Al mal tiempo, buena cara: “In bad times, put on a good, brave face.”
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