McMusing: Have We Forgotten Who We Are?
Thoughts on Immigration as a Problem or an Opportunity
While growing up, I never questioned what the Statue of Liberty stood for. I understood she was welcoming the “huddled masses.” As a child, I had no concept of the complications surrounding immigration; I was simply glad that my country welcomed those less fortunate.
I was raised in a denomination with a strong worldwide mission emphasis. Every month the women would meet to pray for and support missions work around the world. As a teenager, I was elected to be the secretary. It was not my strong suit but it forced me to pay attention.
The WMS was officially recognized as an auxiliary organization of the Church of the Nazarene in 1915 at the fourth General Assembly. It was recommended that there be an organization in each local church to increase knowledge and interest in missions by prayer, by obtaining special speakers, and by keeping in touch with the missionaries; and to cooperate with the (local) Church Board in raising their apportionments (for missions). (Source)
This was my heritage and I never questioned anything about missions until the Statue of Liberty, an assignment to teach geography, and my missions heritage collided. At that moment, it dawned on me that we were devoting a lot of effort (not saying those efforts were wrong) to reaching people groups outside of our borders when it seemed that God was bringing them to us.
While I may now think differently about what missionary work should involve (serving others and meeting needs is at the top of the list), I have not changed my thinking that God intended for those who have been blessed to share all forms of “good news” with those who have not been so richly blessed.
In my mid-forties, during a conversation with a prominent pastor’s wife, we were problem-solving about a particular church attendee who was prone to disrupt the service—not intentionally. She said, “I believe God places people in our lives as an opportunity to show love no matter how difficult the situation. His disruptions remind me of why I am here and how easy it is to forget that my mission is not to be comfortable.”
That conversation stuck. We did not discount our discomfort. We acknowledged it and concluded that our comfort wasn’t the focus.
The point is this . . . the huddled masses arrive on our doorstep as an opportunity. This does not discount the need for appropriate immigration laws and strategies, but once they arrive—however that happens—immigrants become an opportunity not a problem. When we are problem-focused focused we lose the ability to be compassionate and solve issues in ways that honor human dignity.
There was a follow-up lesson to that conversation. One night after the Sunday evening church service Scott and I went to the store for snacks. Our toddler son was fussy with being in the cart and I took him out. As I talked to friends—who were also on the hunt for snacks—I forgot that my small son was with me (my children have many stories).
I caught up with Scott at the checkout counter and as we headed toward the car, I exclaimed, “Where is Eric?!”
The sinking realization that I was the one who was supposed to have him sent me running back to the store.
In the entryway of the store, my small son stood holding the “problem” attendee's hand. They were both staring at a magnificent toilet paper display. Frances turned to me and said, “I didn’t think you meant to leave him.”
At that moment, I understood the verse. “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.” (Hebrews 13:2 NIV) The church staff could have asked Frances not to attend; his disruptions were problematic. Frances was also our opportunity to demonstrate what love looks like when the opportunity to serve arrives on our doorstep with complications.
I believe that Americans generally understood the value of immigrants in the late 1800’s when the following poem was placed on a plaque at the base of the Statue of Liberty. Not that their treatment of immigrants was always what it needed to be. Yet, it is a reminder of who we are as a nation consisting almost entirely of immigrants or those of immigrant heritage—aside from Native Americans and those forced to come as slaves. It is also a reminder that not addressing immigration with compassion and decency is our loss. It is not only a loss of the good that immigrants have always brought to our country; it is a loss of the opportunity to serve those who arrive on our doorstep—with complications.
The New Colossus by Emma Lazarus - 1849 –1887
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”