Refugees

Welcome to Ordinary Time! Ordinary Time is that vast stretch of the church year between January 6 (Epiphany) and Lent (and also between Pentecost and Advent). The name of the season is, admittedly, not terribly inspiring, but it expresses an important truth--much of our lives can feel ordinary and routine, and yet these are the lives that God calls us to offer to him as living sacrifices. As Romans 12:1 reads:

I’ve had a difficult month. I lost my apartment in a fire and it has been tough. Tough to think about anything else. Tough to start again, again.

But there has been this amazing group of people who have held me up. They have held me when I felt like I was losing my feet. Like a cartoon character fall, feet flailing. But not falling. Thank God. Just losing my feet for a bit. Because my arms are held tightly, I’m not going down. And I’m thankful.

The last couple of weeks I’ve had a pretty trying wake-up call to the refugee crisis. Probably with Advent and U.S. Thanksgiving on the radar, God just wanted to say something to me about my contentment and entitlement or about my apathetic anticipation of Jesus’ slow return.

When we turn on the TV or read the news online and in papers these days, we often find stories of injustices and violence in our own communities and around the world. With the brokenness around us, we long to hear more stories of hope, reconciliation, and redemption. Over the years I have read a few memorable books that have reminded me of the power of human spirit and displays of courage, compassion, strength, forgiveness, and resilience in the midst of tragedy and injustices.

Budgets are moral documents. They reveal to us the priorities of our government, especially with respect to the needs of marginalized people. They call us as Christian citizens to respond, whether with praise or constructive criticism.

“No act of virtue can be great if it is not followed by advantage for others. So, no matter how much time you spend fasting, no matter how much you sleep on a hard floor and eat ashes and sigh continually, if you do no good to others, you do nothing great.”   - John Chrysostom     

I have three children. I work full-time. I volunteer in several ministries at my church. I am busy. Busy. Busy. Busy. But I also know that as a Christian, I am called to make mercy and justice, advocacy and generosity, a way of life.

In late 2015 I had a chance to learn firsthand about this mass migration. I saw up close the forces pushing people to risk everything, the pull of Europe and the wealthy North, and the greed of those who profit from the migrant’s dangerous journey, taking desperate people’s money, their bodies, and sometimes, it seems, their souls in payment.

It’s been a great year for Do Justice. Thanks for reading and learning along with us, as we wrestled with faith with the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other (Karl Barth)!

I’ve cried a lot this Advent. Watching video clips of Syrian refugees arriving in the Toronto airport gets me every time. (Watch this one from Vancouver. I dare you to stay dry-eyed.) I watch them with awe; I still can’t quite believe that Canada has done such a 180 degree turn and chosen to welcome more than 25,000 of these beautiful children of God.

I first began volunteering as a mentor to refugees because I wanted to be involved in some kind of ministry that reached beyond the boundaries of my everyday life at home and through my church. Being a mentor fit well because I could work it around my schedule and it gave me opportunity to connect with needy people from different places in the world. I enjoyed helping those first families, and still call them my friends, but much of the blessing for me at that time came from the sense of accomplishment I felt about having helped someone.