By Rev. Ellen Sechrest, CBF Director of Mission Engagement
This weekend was an interesting one for me—a weekend when the world felt especially heavy. Much of that weight came from worry and stress for friends who are not “from here,” along with anger on behalf of immigrants and those whose ministry and work are with immigrants, refugees and migrants.
Through my work at the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, I have learned so much about immigration and have had opportunities to help and minister alongside many people. But this weekend, my anger rose as my hope faded.
On Friday, we received word that about 250 people had been arrested that day in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas and that the new “goal” is to apprehend 500 people per day. A dear pastor friend in the Rio Grande Valley was told, “We suggest you not transport migrants in your van anymore.”
Over the past two and a half years, I have made about six trips to the border, leading teams who want to understand what is really happening there. We have listened to people’s stories about why they worked so hard and suffered so much to reach the United States. We have also talked about what we can do in our own communities to help and to share the kindness and love of Christ. This “roundup” has broken my heart.
Later that day came videos from Immokalee, Florida, where people were chased and apprehended as they left a laundromat with clean clothes for the next workday. An older, five-foot-tall man was not just arrested; four large men took him down, kneed him in the back, injured him and lifted him by his cuffed arms into a van as he wept.
These are not isolated incidents. They are happening not just daily, but hourly. Lord, have mercy.
Then I saw the local Atlanta news. The first story was about an immigrant being transported by van from one detention center to another. When the van arrived, the man was dead, reportedly from a heart attack. Officials said the death is being investigated and that he was the third immigrant to die during transport between facilities in Georgia since January.
Another gut punch. Another tear. Another sense that the world is on fire—and a desperate question: How do I help put out the fire? Lord, have mercy, please.
On Saturday, I met three friends at a pool for swimming and a late lunch. I was looking forward to some levity and distraction. Yet as I drove into the lovely community about 30 minutes from home, I felt even more burdened. I passed homes worth at least $1 million, some perhaps $10 million. Luxury cars lined the streets near the park and golf course. When I parked and gathered my things, I realized I was beside fancy horse stables, with the pool on one side and a very expensive private school on the other.
The heaviness returned. I felt guilt and shame because it seemed that no one around me had a care in the world. I was safe, once again, as a white woman. Lord, have mercy and forgive me.
As I sat by the pool waiting for my friends, my colleague and friend Elket Rodriguez texted me. He was at a large ball field in the RGV, playing soccer with his family. On another field, boys ages 10 to 17 were also playing soccer—but guards stood nearby because they were unaccompanied minors being held at a nearby detention center. We have visited that facility several times on our border trips, and each time we leave deeply sad and burdened.
Elket felt the weight of the contrast as he watched his three children play and roam without fear. I told him where I was and how heavy I felt, surrounded by privilege and little visible diversity while people I know and love were living a very different reality. Lord, hear our cries.
When I got home that afternoon, I received a text from a friend who is in the United States under Temporary Protected Status and now lives in daily fear. He asked whether I could buy groceries for international students who are afraid to leave their homes and are struggling to make ends meet. The answer was an easy yes. But I kept asking myself: What else can I do? How can I convey the love of Christ when so many are more concerned about whether someone is “legal”? Lord, teach us.
When I served on a church staff in South Carolina, I made my first trip to the Rio Grande Valley about 12 years ago with a small group. We went to learn what was happening, how we could help, what we should do back home and how to be good neighbors. I was introduced to dear Sister Norma Pimentel, and the first thing she said to us was, “Remember, God doesn’t make illegals; these people are undocumented and deserve to be shown love, just like Christ has shown us.” That experience changed my life, my heart, the way I lead missions and my relationship with the world.
On Sunday at First Baptist Church of Decatur, we offered a blessing to two men from Ghana who have been with us for two years while studying at Columbia Theological Seminary. They are headed to Richmond, Virginia, this week to begin a chaplaincy program. Our pastor reminded them that they will always be part of this congregation and that we will continue to pray for and love them. As I left worship, I felt encouraged—but then I wondered: Will they find a good and welcoming community in Richmond? Will they feel safe? Will they be targeted as immigrants? Lord, protect them, please.
Today is Monday, and I am waiting to hear from close friends who had to leave the country for a visa renewal. I am anxious for them and their children. They have done everything right. They work hard, own a home, pay taxes and contribute to their community. They studied in the United States. They attend church and are part of our CBF community. They love living here. I am nervous, anxious, fretful and again feel helpless. All I can say today is: Please, Lord, have mercy, please.
I keep asking myself: How did we get to this point? What do we fear that has made us so hate-filled and so concerned only with “mine, mine, mine?” As our hearts continue to break, may we keep seeing the faces of those we love dearly, because in them we also see the face of God.
Lord, hear our prayers.
Rev. Ellen Sechrest is Director of Mission Engagement for the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, where she helps congregations and mission leaders deepen their missional connection with the Fellowship, in their own context, and with field personnel.