On Behalf of the Christian Who’s Afraid of a Refugee

I’m a Christian. I love Jesus, and I’m called to love the widow, the orphan, and the foreigner. I’m called to lay down my interests and well-being for the sake of others. That includes “potential terrorists.”

But I’m also afraid. I’m a dad. I’m a husband. And what I’ve seen in the news this week terrifies me on behalf of my family and the millions of other innocent Americans whose lives are threatened by the Islamic State and its followers.

Does that make me a hypocrite?

A lot of debate has been circulating this week around the Syrian refugee crisis and America’s mixed response to the situation. President Obama criticized Republicans who are “irresponsibly” playing on Americans’ fears for the sake of a campaign. More than a dozen governors have moved to block their states from accepting refugees. Among this tension, American Christians seem to be divided.

Many respond angrily towards the President for not doing more to defend this country. To a lot of Christians, radical Islam is a real threat that should be addressed aggressively and without mercy. So they’ve responded to the idea of accepting refugees who may be disguised as terrorists into this country out of fear, not love.

Some have responded to this fear with scripture:

“Perfect love casts out fear.”

“The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt. I am the LORD your God.”

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven.”

And others call their fearful brothers and sisters hypocrites for refusing to obey the commands of Jesus. I’ll admit, I’m discouraged to see so many American Christians advocating so passionately for closed borders to tens of thousands of hurting people. It doesn’t look like the Church at all.

But I’m not going to pretend that this fear isn’t real, or even valid.

The tragic events in Paris last week show us that ISIS is capable of terrible things almost anywhere in the world. On top of that, we’ve seen a clear example of a terrorist posing as a refugee. Say what you will about the statistic improbability of this happening in the United States. It happened there, it can happen here. I understand the command to love my enemy, but what if that means risking the lives of innocent people in the process? That doesn’t seem wise or loving.

Does this mean we shouldn’t accept any refugees just because we’re afraid? I don’t think so, and it’s certainly hard to make the biblical point that this attitude honors God (see scripture above).

But we shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss genuine fear for disobedience to Jesus. In the Bible, we never see God respond to human fear with condemnation. He always rebukes fear, but always with compassion:

“…fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10

We’re called to love our neighbor and our enemy without regard for personal gain. But I’m responsible for the safety of my family. Is it loving of me to put their lives at risk? The government has a responsibility to protect its citizens. Is it loving for them to knowingly risk our lives?

So to those who criticize fearful Christians for being hypocrites, we hear you. But remember that we’re human and that this fear is valid.

To the Christians who quote the commands of Jesus and encourage us to love our enemies as ourselves, we get it. Keep saying it. But don’t lose your compassion for your fearful brothers and sisters in the process. Avoid the temptation to use guilt as a soapbox. Remind the Church that God is with us. Encourage us, don’t condemn us.

If you’re afraid, you’re not alone. You’re probably not even wrong. But don’t speak hateful or disrespectful words out of this fear.

Admit you’re afraid.

Pray for the opportunity to love your enemy of yourself.

Look for ways to lay yourself down for the sake of others.

I pray that God would empower the Church to show real compassion to these people. But I’m also afraid to do it. I’m glad we serve a God who’s willing to meet us in that fear and provides a bridge to walk out of it.

 

Don’t Push Away From The Table.

The world is broken. Will you make it better, or bail out when you’re needed most? You were created to make a difference here.

But will you?

Get on Facebook or Twitter at any point in the day, and you’ll more than likely find someone ranting about their city, their job, or even their church. I live in the South, so the most common complaint goes something like this:

“OMG!! I wish I could get out of here! People here are so ignorant and fake! #somethingsarcastic”

Don’t get me wrong, I understand being frustrated with the people you’re around daily or weekly. But the idea that life would be perfect if only you found the perfect city, family, friend group, church, etc. is ridiculous. Such a place just doesn’t exist!

So what’s the result of the “grass is always greener” mentality? Fathers leave their families for a better thrill. People commit to their church only if the music and speaking fits their style. Leaders who could have made a difference push away from the table.

And the cycle begins somewhere else.

The solid reality is that every difficult situation includes those who add to the problem and those who provide a solution. There is no middle ground!

Maybe you find yourself in a frustrating context today. Don’t make it worse. Make it better. Here’s how:

1) Stop talking. Do something.

When you spill your coffee or break a lamp, you’d be pretty frustrated if I stood over you and complained about it. You’d want me to help! Complaining and ranting only makes it worse. Even if your efforts don’t make a huge difference, at least you didn’t add to the difficulty.

2) Look at adversity as an opportunity to make a difference.

How did good people change the world? Why do we remember them? Because they saw the brokenness around them as a need that they could meet. And this is what separates a leader from a complainer.

3) When things get tough, don’t bail.

When it’s hard, I want to quit. That’s because I’m human. It’s just not our instinct to feel good about difficulty. But our worst mistakes always come when we only listen to our feelings. Something else should drive the leader: a bold devotion to making the people and situation around them better.

This list certainly isn’t exhaustive. There are always exceptions. I’d love to hear more of your thoughts. When leaders start to lead and refuse to make things worse, the potential is limitless.

“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” – Matthew 5:13-16

 

Leaders are weird.

“I’m all about keeping things the same as they’ve always been.  As long as everyone’s happy with me, I’m good.”

-Said no great leader. Ever.

Learning to be a leader hasn’t been an easy journey for me. I almost routinely encounter a new roadblock in my character that hinders me from being the influencer I know I was created to be. Recently, I’ve been tackling fear.

Let me explain. Do you remember the feeling you got in class when your teacher asked a question, to which you knew the answer, and no one raised their hand? You were certain that you’d get it right, but something in you kept the words tucked away. Fear.

Fear of standing out. Fear of being wrong. Fear of being judged as “nerdy.” Fear of being different.

Maybe it wasn’t in class, but I guarantee we’ve all felt this kind of fear. And to anyone aspiring to lead change in this world, it’s poison. If not corrected, it will lead to apathy, carelessness, and laziness.

A lukewarm leader.

I like to look at Jesus as the best example for leadership. He gets a skewed reputation as a flip-flop-wearing, pale white pushover. But the Jesus of the Bible is quite different. For example, in Mark 10:34, he tells his followers,  “Do not think that I came to bring peace on the earth; I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.” And later, in chapter 21, he flips over tables and drives the money-changers out of the temple. He wasn’t afraid of making a scene. Not out of pride or foolishness, but to wake people up! Leading change takes boldness and a little bit of creativity.

Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not impressed by people who are weird just for the sake of getting attention. But I think leaders who want to make a real difference should remember a few things:

1) You should embrace the idea of getting laughed at.

And even downright ridiculed. Sometimes to your face. Human nature rejects change. But don’t fret. Any change worth following should at least raise some eyebrows.

2) It’s never been cool to try.

Complacency is a pretty popular attitude. I mean, all it takes is keeping things exactly the way they are. But leaders worth following give everything they do their absolute best, forgetting the fear of failure.

3) What is fear, anyway?

It’s a lie about what hasn’t even happened yet. Tell it to shut up and sit down.

4) Leaders are inspiring.

And to be inspiring, you’ve got to be passionate about something enough to sacrifice some of your pride and comfort. (Otherwise, are you really leading people anywhere worth going?)

One final note: leading change doesn’t necessarily mean that you need to start a non-pofit. Yet. It could mean learning as much as you can about a skill that you know you need. It could mean stepping out and becoming a better friend, spouse, parent, etc. It doesn’t matter how big or small the step. Do it.

What are you passionate about? What change can you lead? Dive head-first into the difference you were called to make. We’ll all be better for it. (Or at least you’ll learn something).