Friend To The Stranger
When I was 16 years old, I flew in an airplane for the first time. I sat pressed against the window, mesmerized by the pillowy, peachy clouds below. It was a service trip to an orphanage in Venezuela, and God used it to break my heart wide open to the people and cultures of the world.
I traveled much afterwards and experienced extraordinary hospitality – frequently supping at a table with new friends and carefully-prepared foods. I loved the beauty of a cross-cultural and shared faith; worship and Bible verses in Spanish were electric.
About seven years ago, I heard God pose a shattering, redemptive question within my heart:
Why do you love to be the guest in their homes yet not welcome them as guests in yours?
If God brought people to my country, to my city, to my doorstep, would I love them and their culture just the same? Would I long to share stories, meals, and conversations about God? Would I give hospitality in the same way I had received it?
Even as a I wrestled with the ‘why’ within me, God dramatically and powerfully transformed my heart and birthed a beautiful – but painful – burden for my immigrant neighbors.
Opportunities to understand and connect with my immigrant neighbors seemed to spring up providentially and I became acquainted with a newly-arrived family of asylum-seekers through a local nonprofit.
I pep-talked myself and called the phone number with a big smile and imperfect Spanish, learning of the multitude of needs they had with winter approaching. “We came with only the clothes on our backs,” mom explained, “And we’re not accustomed to winter.” Their narrow, rented space was unfurnished, chilly, and dimly lit. Friends, neighbors, and the Kensington community rallied to help provide them with warm jackets, boots, and bedding that very week. My family helped me provide their children with wish-list-worthy gifts on their first Christmas here in Michigan.
The mother, Ana*, soon became a close friend of mine. She shared how their family had left Columbia due to cartel threats against their children. The decision to leave came with unimaginable loss – they sacrificed proximity to family, their careers, and their homeland for the possibility of safety here.
We laughed when I was amazed at the cubes of cheese they dropped into their warm cups of coffee; we laughed when she bought sour cream thinking it was yogurt; we talked about childhood development and the challenges of parenting; we visited the zoo (where they obsessed over the polar bear), watched Super Mario Bros. 3 in the theater, and hid Easter eggs for her kids and mine. She and her husband raved about the Kaleo performance they watched at Troy campus and they became emotional over the beautiful music from Kensington’s Easter service. She shared about the child she had lost; she cried with me over the loneliness of being in a place where communication was so unnatural.
I made them vegetarian chili (I don’t know if they were impressed); they made me ajiaco (I was so impressed. In fact, I beg you to make some of this creamy chicken soup for yourself!).
I saw – and attempted to support them – as they faced the challenges of starting over with a language barrier: navigating difficult landlords, electricity bills, enrolling in school, understanding bus routes, participating in extracurricular sports, car issues, immigration appointments, work visas, job hunting, and appliances breaking (I literally didn’t know there were both gas and electric dryers until this year).
Ana, her husband, and their children, are brave, resilient, and grateful. When I’m overcome with fear for them and their future, she reminds me that God is in control and she trusts Him.
Even as a writer, I don’t have the words to express how thankful I am that God changed my heart and prepared it to love the stranger. Friendship with them has enriched my life and grown my faith.
You must treat the foreigner living among you as native-born and love him as yourself, for you were foreigners in the land of Egypt. I am the LORD your God. – Leviticus 19:33-34
Whether we are welcoming a fellow brother or sister in Christ or find ourselves with the opportunity to share the Gospel with someone who doesn’t yet know Him, we are called to welcome the stranger – and it is an obedience that has brought me profound blessing.
*name changed for her protection
Author’s [Hopeful] Note:
I recently read of the enormous increase in new believers among Syrian refugees displaced in Lebanon. Why? Because the Lebanese churches opened their doors and hearts to those refugees. Here is a quote from a Syrian woman, in this Voice of The Martyrs’ story:
“I stopped wearing the veil and went to church to get the food parcel to help my family. They gave it to me regardless of who I am or what I wear. I discovered that they are loving people, not as our religious leaders told us about Christians.” She added, “At first, I thought, ‘This is not for me,’ but after coming to church for a while, I started to feel peaceful. Something changed in me that I cannot describe. I feel the peace, the joy of worship. … This is the work of our Lord, Jesus.”