“We look at this Son and see God who cannot be seen. … So spacious is Christ that everything of God finds its proper place in him without crowding.”
The past day was filled with contradictions as we met people of faith who work and live on the border in Douglas and Agua Prieta (DouglaPrieta). A Border Patrol agent left his teaching job because he believes he makes a more immediate difference for children as an agent. A church pastor helped his congregation rally around a deacon facing deportation, but the church won’t become a sanctuary because migrants also do harm to property as they cross. A director of a shelter for migrants says he has faith in God, not in governments, and serving his neighbor is what gives him joy and strength.
The irony of immigration policy in the United States is that it does a better job of keeping people in than keeping people out, one U.S. church mission worker says. People already in the United States choose not to return to their homes because it is so much harder to cross a second time. The number of border agents has quadrupled and wall infrastructure has multiplied exponentially. The desert is cut to dust as agents drag roads and “cut for sign” and track footprints. The agents in Douglas more often than not are not Douglas natives and don’t live in Douglas, so there is tension between them.
In Corinthians 4:4 we read, “The God of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers so they cannot see the light of the gospel that displays the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.” And our group’s daily reflections ask us: What is our relationship as Christians with this particular community of the people of God?
I realize on this trip that I am part of the body of Christ with not only the migrants and the church workers who aid them but with the Border Patrol agents who say they do this job to help children and whose faith also informs them. I am one with church members who give food and water to migrants and then call immigration authorities to report them.
I am struggling to reconcile these contradictions and contrasts. There is room for all, but how is God calling me to respond to these differences?
I told a man staying at the shelter in Agua Prieta, contemplating an attempt to cross to the north, that our group is on our way south from Tucson to Chiapas, Guatemala, and El Salvador.
“Hacemos la migración al revés,” I said. “We are making the migration in reverse.”
“Ah! La diferencia es que a Uds. no quieren a asesinar.” “The difference is they aren’t going to try to kill you.”
(Quote from Colossians in The Message)
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