Refugee

Joseph Kim grew up in North Korea with loving parents, but his world changed during the Great Famine of the 1990s. When he was 12, his father died of starvation, and soon after, his mother and sister left for China in search of food. His mother returned alone, having sold his sister into bride slavery-a common fate for young North Korean refugees. Later, his mother was imprisoned by the North Korean government, leaving Joseph alone and homeless on the streets.

For three years, Joseph survived by begging and sleeping in the mountains. At 15, facing starvation, he made the dangerous decision to escape North Korea by crossing into China. There, an elderly Chinese Korean woman advised him to seek help at a church. He found a church, where members gave him small amounts of money and temporary shelter. The kindness of these Christians, who helped a stranger without expecting anything in return, sparked his curiosity about their faith.

At another church, he saw the words, “Come To Me, All You Who Are Weary And Burdened, And I Will Give You Rest.” Joseph recalls, “It was as if someone was talking directly to me. I thought I heard a voice saying, ‘I understand how exhausted you are and what a hopeless situation you are in. I will take care of you.’” A Christian woman took him in, encouraged him to read the Bible, and gave him the name “Joseph.” He prayed, “God, I don’t know who you are or whether you exist as the Bible and Christians claim. But I need your help.”

With help from activists and Liberty in North Korea (LiNK), Joseph eventually escaped to the United States in 2007 as a refugee minor, attended high school, and began to build a new life. Reflecting on his journey, Joseph writes, “I had been alone in the world. Finding Christians in China, I found hope again. Caring for strangers, acting compassionately without expecting anything in return: That is the beauty of the gospel.”

The UN Refugee Agency says the country of Columbia has hosted 3 million refugees and migrants from neighboring Venezuela. Columbia has also had the second highest number of Internally Displaced Persons, IDPs, in the world. Since 1985, violence and threats from armed groups have caused 6.7 million Columbians to flee their homes and go elsewhere in the country. Almost 20% of Columbia's population have been traumatized by the refugee, migrant or IDP experience. Here's one pastor’s story:

In 1984, Pastor Jose Higinio Licona and his family experienced violent displacement themselves in their hometown. His family owned a 6-acre farm, milked cows, and grew yucca and corn. One evening, when Licona returned from church, he found dozens of uniformed men with guns in his house, nonchalantly sipping his wife's lemonade. They demanded that he join their force. Pastor Jose decided it was time to flee with his family and a few animals. During their flight, they had to sell their animals and food became scarce. They never got their land back. Pastor Licona's current church is small, only about two dozen people. But most of them could report similar stories of loss as IDPs.

Since they were IDPs themselves, Licona's church started helping Venezuelan migrants when they started coming about 4 years ago. They butchered cows and harvested a half ton of yucca. They helped migrants pay rent and apply for temporary protection status. They hosted dinners offering Venezuelan dishes, offered counseling, and shoulders to cry on. They're helping 2,000 Venezuelan migrants who settled in the area. Pastor Jose says helping migrants is instinctive, "How could they not? We are all IDPs!"

This church has given from what little it had. What sacrifice!

Actress Angelina Jolie claims, “I don’t really have … a social life.” Instead, she admits, “I realized my closest friends are refugees. Maybe four out of six of the women that I am close to are from war and conflict.”

She explained what refugees have to offer that the shallowness of Hollywood does not offer:

There’s a reason people who have been through hardship are also much more honest and much more connected, and I am more relaxed with them. Why do I like spending time with people who’ve survived and are refugees? They’ve confronted so much in life that it brings forward not just strength, but humanity.

Possible Preaching Angles:

Angelina Jolie may not be a follower of Jesus, but she does have some biblical truth here—suffering can make us deeper and more compassionate people.

In his gripping memoir, Everything Sad Is Untrue, Daniel Nayeri recounts the gripping story about why his mother became a Christian.

She grew up in a devout and prestigious Muslim family. She was a doctor and had wealth and esteem. But eventually she would forsake all of that to follow Jesus. She was forced to flee for her life from Iran, eventually settling in the U.S. as a refugee. When people ask her why, she looks them in the eye with the begging hope that they’ll hear her, and she says, “Because it’s true.”

Why else would she believe it? It’s true and it’s more valuable than $7 million in gold coins, and thousands of acres of Persian countryside, and 10 years of education to get a medical degree, and all your family, and a home. And maybe even your life. My mom wouldn’t have made the trade otherwise.

If you believe it’s true, that there is a God, and he wants you to believe in him, and he sent his Son to die for you—then it has to take over your life. It has to be worth more than everything else, because heaven’s waiting on the other side. That or my mother is insane. There’s no middle. You can’t say it’s a quirky thing she thinks, because she went all the way with it. If it’s not true, she made a giant mistake. But she doesn’t think so.

She had all that wealth, the love of all those people she helped in her clinic. They treated her like a queen. She was a devout Muslim. And she’s poor now. People spit on her on buses. She’s a refugee in places where people hate refugees. And she’ll tell you––it’s worth it. Jesus is better. It’s true … Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again. The whole story hinges on it.

Dilli Lumjel gave his life to Jesus on May 4, 2011, at 1:33 a.m. Earlier that day, he had performed a Hindu funeral service for his father-in-law in a refugee camp in eastern Nepal, where he lived with more than 12,000 other refugees.

As was the custom, Lumjel spent the night at his wife’s uncle’s house. Both of Lumjel’s parents-in-law had recently converted to Christianity. That night he had a vision: His mother-in-law approached him and shared the gospel, stating, “If you enter this house, you have to believe in Jesus.” Then he saw a flash of lightning from heaven and heard a voice saying, “What you are hearing is true; you have to believe.” In the dream, he knelt down crying and committed his life to Jesus.

When he woke up, his face was wet with tears. Lumjel called a local pastor and told him he had had a dream and was now a Christian. The news shocked his family of devout Hindus. He said, “Every­body—my relatives, my wife, sisters—they all woke up asking, ‘What happened to Dilli? Is he mental? He says he’s a Christian!’”

The next day, the pastor explained the gospel to Lumjel and his wife. The two committed their lives to Jesus. A day later, Lumjel began attending a monthlong Bible school in the refugee camp. Then church leaders sent Lumjel out to preach the gospel to other refugees. Several months later, he became a church deacon, then an elder.

One year later, Lumjel arrived in Columbus, Ohio, as part of a massive resettlement of about 96,000 ethnic Nepalis expelled from their home of Bhutan to the United States. There he joined Yusuf Kadariya in pastoring a group of about 35 Bhutanese Nepali families. As more Bhutanese Nepali refugees settled in Columbus and the group brought more people to Christ, the church continued to grow.

Today, Lumjel is a full-time pastor at Emmanuel Fellowship Church in Columbus. On a wintry Sunday morning in December, about 200 people streamed into the sanctuary, greeting one another with a slight bow and “Jai Masih,” meaning “Victory to Christ.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

God is bringing the nations to our neighborhoods here in America and is bringing many to faith in Christ. We can carry out the Great Commission in part by welcoming them with Christian love and sharing the gospel to those with hungry hearts.

As a child, Juliet Liu Waite and her sisters would plead with their aunt to tell them the story of their escape from Saigon, South Vietnam. The story begins in the family home on the night of April 30, 1975. The family had just finished dinner when a loud explosion blew out the windows at the back of the house. The Fall of Saigon and the end of the 20-year-long war in Vietnam had begun.

Juliet’s grandmother had worked for 20 years as a translator for the US Department of Defense. Her American boss had assured her, “Don’t worry. We won’t leave without you. We’ll make sure you are taken care of.” But she had not heard from him in days. She did not know that he had already left the country, leaving her and her family behind without even a telephone call.

Juliet writes:

Now, with her family sprawled across the floor, their ears ringing from the blast, my grandmother decided: “It’s time to go.” Each packed a small bag of essential items. Outside the house, bombs were exploding, taking down shops, houses, and people. They ducked low, making their way from ditch to ditch, crawling toward the airport. It took them all night.

At dawn the family arrived at the airport security gates. Her grandmother showed her papers to the guards, telling them her boss’ name, saying that he had promised to get them out. The guard shook his head. “I’m sorry. Your name isn’t on this list.” The grandmother begged, “Please! I worked for the Americans. They will kill us all.” Her grandmother grabbed the gold jewelry and small items of value she had taken from the house. “Please,” she said. “Take all of this.” The guard took all of it, then let them through the gate.

Juliet writes,

My grandparents and uncles urged the girls to get on the first available chopper. “No!” my aunties and my mother cried. “We cannot separate!” But my grandfather insisted. “You cannot wait! We will be right behind you!” They finally agreed. In the chaos, my grandparents did not see which chopper they boarded, though they were pretty sure it was the one they were watching. Suddenly, the helicopter exploded as a missile tore through it. My grandparents looked on in horror, believing that they had just lost the four young women.

It would be another two weeks before they discovered they had been mistaken; the girls had boarded a different helicopter. The family waited for the following helicopters to bring their parents, but as they waited, no familiar faces appeared. Turning to strangers, they asked, “Please! We cannot find our parents!” People shook their heads. Some murmured that not all of the helicopters had made it. My mother and her sisters wept.

They boarded a ship that carried the women to Guam where one of my aunties stumbled across my grandfather. It was a miracle they found each other amid the chaotic crowds. When the whole family was reunited, they were overwhelmed at the mystery of this blessing. Eventually the family began to prosper. How had had the family’s story ended so well?

Far away, at a small Baptist church in Lafayette, Indiana, some Christians were convinced that God’s heart was for those nobody wanted. Together, they committed to sponsoring a refugee family. They raised money, found housing, and provided clothing and furniture to a strange family from a foreign land.

My mother’s family knew nothing about Jesus or the church when they lived in Vietnam. But they encountered a generosity they had never witnessed. “It wasn’t just the money and the things they provided,” my mother would say. “We saw in these people a kindness we had never seen before.”

This is also my story. I grew up knowing that I existed because a group of people believed that a merciful God was asking them to show mercy to those who needed it. I grew up knowing that this was a God worth trusting.

Editor’s Note: Juliet Liu Waite is now a co-pastor at Life on the Vine, a church in the Chicago suburbs.

Annahita Parsan shares how she survived snowy mountains, a filthy prison, and an abusive husband as God brought her to faith in Christ.

I was born in beautiful, peaceful Iran. My life was good, and it got even better when I fell in love, got married, and gave birth to my son, Daniel. Even the fact that my country was being overtaken by Islamic revolutionaries couldn’t dampen my joy. Like so many people whose lives feel perfect, I had little appetite for God. But all that was about to change.

Death came like a thief one morning soon after Daniel was born. My husband was killed in a traffic accident, and in an instant my life was robbed of joy. I was in shock. I was in denial. And for the first time in my life, my mind turned to God. I asked, What have I done to deserve this?

In time the pain dulled a little, and I remarried. But from the first night we were together, my new husband revealed himself to be a violent, abusive man. My life was once more plunged into pain and sorrow. Only this time, there was no end in sight.

I gave birth to a daughter, Roksana, but my husband’s beatings continued. And when he got in trouble with the authorities, I had no choice but to join him as he fled across the mountains into Turkey. It was a terrible journey. We weren’t equipped for the snow, and soon my fingers, mouth, and toes were black with frostbite. And when I realized that Roksana was no longer breathing, my thoughts once more returned to God. Why are you punishing me this way?

Crouched on the cold ground, my baby’s tiny body hanging limply in my arms, I was at my lowest point. I had nothing left with which to fight. I wanted to die. I had no idea that God was right there with me.

Hours later, as we sat by a fire in the custody of Turkish police, I got my first real glimpse of God. Roksana was alive. It was a miracle. Throughout the next four months that we spent locked up in a filthy Turkish prison, God was right there. He kept me safe from many dangers, and I know he was there too in the kindness of a stranger: a businessman, once imprisoned alongside us, who helped secure our release through Amnesty International.

But it wasn’t until I was far away from Turkey that God started to reveal himself more clearly. One day two men knocked on my apartment door. They wanted to talk about Jesus, but I was too scared of my husband to talk to strangers. They returned the next day and handed me a Bible. I knew I should have thrown it away, but something made me want to keep it. So I hid it where my husband couldn’t find it. The next time he beat me until my body was bruised and sore, something compelled me to give the Bible a look. It spoke to me, and I started to speak to God. If you really are there, God, please help.

Eventually, with the help of the police, I was able to leave my husband. My children and I were relocated to another city and offered emergency shelter by nuns. As I listened to them talk and sing about loving and following Jesus, something awakened within me. Could I ever learn to love and trust you too, Jesus?

Years passed before I had an answer. I was back in Iran, having returned to visit a dying relative. The authorities were suspicious as to why I had left Iran in the first place, and I knew I couldn’t tell the truth about my escape without facing a return to prison. After three months of court hearings and interviews, I stood before a judge, waiting to hear his verdict. Powerless and desperate, I turned fully to the One who had been beside me throughout it all. I promised God I would give my life to Christ if he could deliver me from this ordeal.

Right then, as I prayed, he freed me from the enemy’s grip. The judge, who saw that I was crying, had mercy on me and let me go free. The very next day, I was back in Sweden—God had rescued me and brought me safely home. From that day on, my life has been his.

Today, at my church in Sweden, I have the privilege of seeing God powerfully at work in the lives of so many Muslims. All over the world, God is appearing in dreams and visions to men and women who have previously followed Allah.

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words, but this picture is worth much, much more. Several photos on Twitter in early March show row after row of empty baby strollers left at a local railway station. Each photo was liked or shared tens of thousands of times in just a few days.

The strollers were an act of solidarity from Polish mothers wanting to support their Ukrainian counterparts. Because of the immediacy of the Russian invasion, most Ukrainian men were either conscripted or voluntarily stayed to defend their homeland. This meant that many mothers of small children were forced to flee with their children in tow and little else. Many of the strollers included basic supplies like warm blankets.

The Polish government’s response to the refugee surge included a hotline for travelers to call and get up-to-date information and advice regarding crossing the border. As of April 21, 2022, authorities estimated that over 2.8 million people sought refuge from the war by traversing into Poland.

Possible Preaching Angle:

God is with the poor and marginalized who have no resources to secure their safety, and with those who minister to them with empathy.

Wayomi and Poornima Rathnayake are trying to shine a light onto negligence and corruption in the Japanese immigration system after their older sister Wishma died in a detention facility under mysterious circumstances.

In 2017, Wishma moved from her Sri Lanka hometown to a suburb of Tokyo, on a student visa. Her plan was to take language classes and eventually earn money as an English teacher. Her sister Wayomi said, "She never told us or gave us a sign that things weren't going well for her.” They first they learned of her sister’s trouble when the Sri Lankan embassy in Tokyo called to inform them of her death.

In shock and unsettled grief, the sisters traveled to Japan to find the answers behind their sister’s death. Wishma had been expelled from the language program and began working in a factory. Later that year, she applied for asylum, but her claim was denied, making her an illegal immigrant.

Eventually, she came to police and asked for help traveling to the immigration bureau in Nagoya, where she eventually met with officials. Her pleas for help were rebuffed, however, and Wishma spent the final seven months of her life in indefinite detention.

When the sisters tried to learn the details of her sister’s death, immigration officials initially tried to stonewall them, denying wrongdoing and refusing to show any video footage. But once the case was championed by activists advocating for reform in the Japanese immigration system, officials relented and released the footage. It showed Wishma sickly, begging for help from guards who refused her assistance.

Researchers say that the problem stems from a lack of accountability. In contrast to other countries, in Japan the immigration process is managed solely by the immigration agency--there is no court involvement. This lack of judicial review has resulted in a “black box” process, with no oversight.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Christians are called to show hospitality to foreigners. All people are made in God's image, and God is honored when God's people fight to preserve the inherent dignity and worth of everyone.

Kenneth and Adi Martinez immigrated to the United States from Mexico in 2011. When given the opportunity to help a family of four who recently fled Afghanistan, they jumped at the chance. Kenneth said, “We know exactly what it feels like to come to a brand-new county with no family or anything,"

The government expects tens of thousands of Afghan refugees will come to the United States over the next year, and resettlement agencies are working with organizations and individuals like Kenneth and Adi to help the refugees find housing.

Kenneth, Adi, and their two small children live in the Seattle area, and offered their spare bedroom to the family from Afghanistan. Over the last month, they have been getting to know one another, with the adults cooking and the kids playing together. Kenneth said, “We are happy that we can help.”

In the book, The Zookeeper's Wife, author Diane Ackerman describes the brutal occupation of Warsaw, Poland by the Nazis. The Warsaw Zoo became a hiding place for members of the Resistance and Jewish refugees.

Keeping one person alive often required putting a great many in jeopardy. It tested them nonstop as they resisted both propaganda and death threats. Yet 70,000-90,000 people in Warsaw, or about one-twelfth of the city's population, risked their lives to help neighbors escape. Besides the rescuers and Underground helpers, there were maids, postmen, milkmen, and many others who didn't inquire about extra faces or extra mouths to feed.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Many working together, doing even a little, can do much to conquer evil.

Recently, CBS Evening News anchor Norah O’Donnell traveled to Prairie Chapel Ranch to visit with former president George W. Bush and his wife Laura. The occasion? To celebrate the publication of a compilation of original portraits painted by the former president, and to spark a conversation around the subject of those portraits--immigrants to the United States.

When pressed upon the subject of immigration, Bush demurred, but eventually shared his thoughts:

I don't want to be prescriptive. I don't want to, you know, tell Congress how to do this or that. I do want to say to Congress, “Please put aside all the harsh rhetoric about immigration. Please put aside trying to score political points on either side.” I hope I can help set a tone that is more respectful about the immigrant, which may lead to reform of the system.

President Bush says he’s speaking out to help turn the temperature down on the debate:

The problem with the immigration debate is that one can create a lot of fear: They're comin' after you. But it's a nation that is willing to accept the refugee or the harmed or the frightened, that to me is a great nation. And we are a great nation.

Despite the hoopla over his book’s release, the former President is realistic about its prospects for potential policy proposals:

It doesn't [change policy]. But it's a part of hopefully creating a better understanding about the role of immigrants in our society. Mine is just a small voice in what I hope is a chorus of people saying, “Let's see if we can't solve the problem.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

Not only are each of us God's handiwork, but so are others who potentially come to us for help. We must be vigilant to guard against false images of people for the purpose of spreading fear. Instead, we honor God as we pursue avenues for peace and flourishing for all of God’s children.

Pastor Eduardo Davila tells this story:

I have here an extremely important document. We all have important documents: a marriage certificate, the title to your car, your birth certificate. This one is my naturalization certificate.

My family and I came to the United States as political asylees, leaving the remnants of a country ravaged by war and destructive socialism that did not deliver on its promises. When we came, we had Nicaraguan passports. We were able to come to the US, but we were not given full citizenship. We were not protected by the US. We were not allowed to vote.

But all that changed in 2008, when we walked into an office in Miami, took a few tests, and swore an oath of allegiance to the United States. We were granted full permanent citizenship status. We were fully in.

During the whole process, one aspect that stuck with me was realizing the seriousness of a statement that then-President Bush wrote: “We are united not by race or culture but the ideals of democracy, justice, and liberty.” Beautiful.

Paul tells us in Ephesians 2:19 that "Now you are no longer strangers and foreigners. You are citizens along with all of God’s holy people. You are members of God’s family." Praise God! When you come to Christ, you are no longer a stranger or foreigner. You have the full blessing and protection of the kingdom of Christ. You are no longer undocumented. You no longer need to fret over where you belong or how to survive.

At baptism, you renounced your old citizenship and swore allegiance to Jesus, and you were given a naturalization certificate. You are now part of the new humanity: you are no longer strangers and foreigners. Once a citizen of a different kingdom, your ruler was your vices, addictions, and fears. Your ruler was the prince of this world. That is what you left behind when you were baptized and chose to submit yourself to Jesus as your new King.

In the fall of 1943 German soldiers began rounding up Jews in Italy and deporting them by the thousands to concentration camps. Simultaneously a mysterious and deadly disease called “Syndrome K” swept through the city of Rome causing dozens of patients to be admitted to the Fatebenefratelli Hospital. The details of the disease are sketchy, but the symptoms include persistent coughing, paralysis, and death. The disease was said to be highly contagious.

But “Syndrome K” was different. There was no mention of it in medical textbooks, and outside of the hospital staff, nobody had heard of it before. It sounded similar to tuberculosis, a terribly frightening disease at that time. When the German soldiers went to raid the hospital, the doctors explained the disease to the soldiers and what lay behind the closed doors. None of them dared to go in. And that’s how at least a hundred Jews who were taking refuge at the hospital escaped death. “Syndrome K” was a made-up disease.

The disease was created by Giovanni Borromeo, the hospital’s head physician, to save Jews and anti-fascists who sought refuge there. Borromeo began providing Jews a safe haven in the hospital from 1938, the year Italy introduced antisemitic laws. In October 1943, the Nazis raided a Jewish ghetto in Rome. Many Jews fled to Fatebenefratelli, where Borromeo admitted them as “patients.” The refugees were diagnosed with a new fatal disease—“Syndrome K”—in order to identify them from the actual patients.

When the Nazis came to visit, patients were instructed to cough a lot whenever soldiers passed by their door. The ruse worked. “The Nazis thought it was cancer or tuberculosis, and they fled like rabbits,” said Dr. Vittorio Sacerdoti during an interview with BBC in 2004, sixty years after the event.

How many lives “Syndrome K” actually saved is hard to tell, but accounts vary from two dozen to over a hundred. After the war, Borromeo was honored by the Italian government by awarding the Order of Merit and the Silver Medal of Valor. He died in 1961 at his own hospital. He was posthumously recognized as a “Righteous Among the Nations” by the Israeli government.

Possible Preaching Angles: Lying; Protection; Racism; Rescue – In the tradition of Rahab (Josh. 2:1-24) and the Egyptian midwives (Exodus 1:10-22) lives were protected from an attempt to murder God’s people. Concealing the truth by telling a lie to protect innocent lives appears to be accepted by God during persecution and extreme situations.

Jeanne Nutter did not leave her house intending to be a hero, but rather to walk her dog. "I was at the end of my driveway; I saw a young woman who appeared to be in distress," said Nutter, a trained social worker. "She was probably about ten or 12 feet from me saying, 'I need help.' All I knew is, whoever this child is, she's in trouble."

The young woman was Jayme Closs, who’d been reported missing after a gunman killed her parents and abducted her. Not only did she quickly name her captor, but Jayme revealed the location of the nearby cabin and alerted Nutter to her captor’s imminent vehicular arrival.

"She told me that's where she had come from … actually his property touches the back of our land. All of this happened so quickly. So in my mind I'm like, 'Don't take her there. … She needs to be in a safe place. Your cabin isn't safe.'”

Because of Nutter’s quick thinking and decisive action, Closs was able to be reunited with the rest of the family, and police made an arrest for the murders and the abduction. But she credits her CPS child protection training as the primary motivating factor. “Kids need to be safe. Get them safe first, ask questions later.”

Potential preaching angles:

When we’re attentive with God's love, we can become an oasis of safety in a hostile environment. Living as a disciple means keeping our eyes open to the needs of others even when it’s inconvenient.

Christian trauma expert Dr. Jamie Aten notes, "When our friends and loved ones are impacted by violence and mass trauma it can leave us feeling helpless, cause us to 'freeze' up, or say things we wouldn't normally say," often relying on harmful clichés. Dr. Aten claims that the best thing we can do is summed up in two words: "offer refuge." He explains:

Some examples of how you can serve as a refuge include listening with acceptance, being present in your helping, and giving the gift of connection … I learned the importance of refuge from a Hurricane Katrina research study my team and I conducted just weeks after the storm made landfall. I'll never forget the evacuation experience one of the survivors we interviewed shared. He described trying to escape from his home along the coast by car. However, as he tried to drive away the winds and rain grew stronger. He quickly started to loose visibility. He knew he wasn't going to be able to go much farther.

About the time panic started to set in he saw something moving just ahead off the side of the road. A neighbor he'd never met before was standing outside in the pouring rain and howling wind with a homemade particleboard sign with the words "STOP HERE" spray-painted on it. Rather than continue alone on his journey, the man turned into his neighbors drive and found a safe haven.

An article in the Chicago Tribune by Chris Erskine began: "By any measure, the Pacific Crest Trail is a beastly thing, an angry anaconda that slithers up the entire length of California and all the way to Canada, some 2,650 rugged miles. That's approximately 6 million steps—some of them glorious, many of them merciless." Sounds like life, doesn't it? Countless rugged miles. More steps than you can count. Some glorious. Many merciless.

The Tribune article focused on the people who take it upon themselves to help the hikers on that grueling trail. They open their homes for the weary travelers and provide meals, mail service, and help. They're called "trail angels." The article said, "But along the way, mercy is at hand." "Trail angels"—that would be a good description of Christians interacting with others in the world.

The article focused on Donna Saufley and her husband who "set up tents and a trailer to handle the spring crush." She calls their home, "Hiker Heaven." According to the article, "She talks fondly about the payoffs of being a trail angel: witnessing the hikers' emerging humanity, their grit, their brio, and the inevitable baring of souls. Traveling the trail 'is humbling,' she says. 'I compare it to the peeling of an onion. You see people for what they are.'" Like the church.

She and her husband will host 1200 people in 2015 in their ordinary home. They don't take any money. She says, "I always say that it's a river of life that washes up to my shore." The article concludes: "[Donna Saufley] loves it when her sanctuary is filled with hikers. [She says,] 'The sounds of conversations mingling with music and laughter is divine to my ear.'"