Thirteen
years ago, I served as the pastor of an English-speaking church in Nuremberg,
Germany. It was a fascinating
experience. The church was small, only
30 or so, and composed mostly of young adults starting their careers in
Nuremberg. They came from Cameroon, South Africa, India, Japan, Ukraine,
Poland, Ireland, UK and, of course Germany. There were even a couple from the
United States. Nuremberg, once shrouded
under the dark cloud of Nazi history, has emerged in the twenty-first century
as a cosmopolitan city welcoming people from around the globe.
As
a result of that experience, I followed refugee reports in Europe with special
interest. I was impressed with the way
Germany and other European nations opened their resources, their communities,
their arms and their homes. In 2015 ABC News reported, “Dozens of
volunteers have been driving to Hungary and to the Serbian border, picking up
refugees walking along the highway in the aim of helping them travel to Western
Europe.” Universities offered free classes to refugees. In Berlin more than 780
people opened their homes for temporary shelter. The continued flow has become
overwhelming. Today there are more than 122 million refugees worldwide, people
forced from their homes by war, crime and corruption. According to Statistica,
in 2024 Germany ranked third in hosting refugees at 2.6 million. The U.S. ranked 20th at 435
thousand with 60,000 admitted in 2023.
I
am always encouraged to see people reaching out to those who are different and desperate.
There are, of course, dangers and risks, just as there were dangers and risks
in Jesus’ Good Samaritan story. But the
rewards far outweigh the costs.
In
the United States, we are a nation of immigrants, refugees and their
descendants. We all came from somewhere else, often from places suffering
famine, disease and oppression. In the 1960s
and 70s we welcomed refugees from Viet Nam.
Fifty years later they have built businesses and sent their children to
college where some became doctors, lawyers and engineers. When we lived in
Minnesota, we came to know and love the Hmong our allies who fled slaughter in
Laos following the fall of Vietnam. Most
came to the U.S. as animists. Today many
are devoted followers of Christ. St. Paul has the largest Hmong church in the
nation.
While
some traditional churches in the U.S. are in decline, many immigrant churches
are growing. I attended the dedication of a new building for Liberian
Christians north of Minneapolis. In St, Paul a church composed of immigrants
from Myanmar (formerly Burma) rapidly outgrew their meeting space.
In
Isaiah, God said, “Is this not the fast which I choose, to loosen the bonds of
wickedness, to undo the bands of the yoke, and to let the oppressed go free,
and break every yoke? Is it not to
divide your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into the house;
when you see the naked to cover him, and not to hide yourself from your own
flesh? Then your light will break out
like the dawn, and your recovery will speedily spring forth, and your
righteousness will go before you; and the glory of the Lord will be your rear
guard,” (Isaiah 58:6-8).
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