Extreme Hardship?

I had the opportunity to meet with a congressman a week ago. Sitting near me at that meeting was a woman who had taken the morning off work in order to be there. She had carefully prepared to tell her life story in only three minutes, in hopes of convincing the congressman to support immigration reform that would improve the lives of the more than 13 million undocumented immigrants who live in the United States today.

She explained that she (a US citizen) and her husband (an undocumented immigrant) decided to "do the right thing" after they found out they were expecting their first child. They, like most Americans, thought it would be relatively easy for him to get a visa since he was married to a citizen. They didn't anticipate the need for him to return to Mexico to file his paperwork. They didn't foresee that he would be there over a year while they waited to hear back about their application. They had no way to know that their appeal would be denied because the US government didn't believe his remaining in Mexico would cause "extreme hardship" for the family.

She explained to her congressman that she wasn't sure what the legal definition of "extreme hardship" was. But she found it extremely hard to plan yet another birthday party for her four-year-old who had never celebrated with her father. She found it extremely hard to comfort a crying child at 3 a.m. who had woken from a dream of his daddy being home. She found it extremely hard to support her three kids on her own, to nurture her marriage over the telephone, and to teach her kids through it all that they lived in a country that was welcoming, fair, and full of opportunity. She found it extremely hard not to be bitter, when "doing the right thing" had put a border between their family for four years--and no end in sight.

I'm not sure what "extreme hardship" is either, but I know a few churches that are willing to enter into it with people like my friend. I know a few churches that are reaching out to the stranger among them, and doing more than offering them a hot meal or tutoring them in their English. There are a few people of faith I know who are willing to name the situation we face: we have a broken immigration system that is causing hardship for workers, families, our economy, and our churches, and it is a system that must be repaired by the people who broke it--our lawmakers. There are a few people of faith I know who are willing to move beyond charity into advocacy--calling on lawmakers to do their part to fix what they dismantled.

These people know that we cannot be the church God calls us to be--one that welcomes strangers, comes alongside those who suffer, and looks more diverse each day--when deportations, workplace raids, and senseless application denials are the norm. These are the people who are being Jesus to folks like my friend: The Jesus who was drawn to those whose "extreme hardship" was overlooked or ignored by society. The Jesus whose "good news" healed their spiritual as well as their very physical world. The Jesus who called his followers to develop new eyes to see, to embrace, to treat as Christ himself, the most vulnerable among us.

My friend is looking for a church. It's my prayer that churches like ours won't deny her needs, won't fail to see her "extreme hardship," won't look past her pain in favor of easy answers. It's my prayer that the church will do more than the congressman did that day. When she finished her three minutes and reached for a Kleenex, it was his turn to talk. "Your husband was here illegally?" he said. "Yes, sir," she responded. He apparently had nothing else to say. I think the church has much more to say. "Speak out for those who cannot speak, for the rights of all the destitute" (Proverbs 8:31).