I signed up to go to Clarkston to work
with refugees without even really wanting to. The opportunity was given to me
through my school really last-minute. I took it, simply hoping I would be able
to raise the support to go.
Going into the trip I wasn't thinking
about refugees. I needed to fulfill a course requirement and write a paper
about my time experience. I went to Clarkston knowing God must have been
leading me there for a reason, I just didn't know what it was yet. I hardly
even knew what refugees were. I knew they came to our country to escape bad
situations back home, but I figured that was all around a really great thing;
refugees must be so happy to be here in the States!
To be perfectly honest, I went to
Clarkston with a pretty negative attitude. Why did I have to go to this tiny
town in Georgia to help refugees with a group of people I didn't know at all?
How could God use me to work in these people's lives?
But I quickly came to see that God
completely changed my thinking. I was not in Clarkston to “help” refugees; I
was there to be blessed by them. I
was not sent there with a group of strangers to have a great time, I was there
to grow spiritually and to be blessed above and beyond what I would have ever
hoped.
World Relief gave us the refugee
experience by having us walk in their shoes. We weren’t there to help them; we
were there to learn what it meant to be
them. But what we learned, what we suffered, was merely a shadow of what
refugees experience. Each year millions of refugees, human beings with families
and cultures and values, are displaced, forced to leave their home and their
possessions, everything they know and are familiar with. They are fleeing for
their very lives. A concept we in the States cannot even begin to fathom.
And the fact of it is that most refugees
are never even granted entrance into another country to start their lives over.
The refugees that are in our country now are a tiny fraction of the number of
people fleeing their home countries for their lives. Given the numbers, the
refugees around the world can hardly even hope to come to either the United
States or another country that grants entrance for refugees. Less than 100,000
refugees ever start over in a new country. Less than 100,000 of millions total.
I
remember that those facts hit me really hard. I had been so ignorant of how
many refugees there were worldwide. I had no idea the struggles they faced even
in getting to our country. I had never before thought about what it meant to
leave behind everything. I cannot imagine what these people experience as they
hurriedly leave, abandoning all they own, oftentimes getting separated from
their families, not knowing if they will ever be reunited again.
I learned of these horrors early in the
week. I was no longer oblivious—I was overwhelmed. Who was I to help these
people? With a need so great to care for these refugees, what could I do in a
few days? What was happening to all the other refugees all around the world? My
heart ached for these people.
Instead of going through the week feeling
more and more overwhelmed, I felt more and more blessings pour out upon me. I
met several refugees in many different contexts throughout the week. And
without trying, these people showed me the love of Christ more than I had known
it before. I met refugees from around the world; from countries I knew hardly
anything about. But rather than complaining and grumbling (which, given their
circumstances, I would have not blamed them for such attitudes), I heard them
praising and glorifying God. They were happy—their joy was so based in Christ
and they wholeheartedly knew that nothing they had been through had separated
them from God.
I felt so convicted. I daily think I struggle.
I complain to God, not praising Him like I should in any situation. I even
complained about having to go on this trip to Clarkston with a group of
students I did not know at all. But what do I have to complain about? Why is my
joy not found in Christ as it should be?
One refugee had left his whole family and job
behind in his home country. Not to mention the fact that he had spent several
months in prison before coming to the States. I thought he of anyone had every
right to be angry and to hate being in Clarkston trying to start his life over.
I asked him how he handled everything. He told me that when he worries he
cannot be happy. So he simply gave God his worries, trusted Him, and found his
joy in Christ. I was so thankful to have met this servant of God who really
knows what it means to trust God during horrible and rough times. Christ is his
rock and foundation and no amount of suffering ever diminished his praise to
God.
Another time I was walking through
Clarkston when a woman stopped me and two others in my group to tell us her
whole life story. We never prompted her to do so and honestly we were a bit
shocked by her forwardness. But her testimony was amazing, of course she felt
compelled to share it with anyone she came across. She told us she should have
died years ago from sickle cell anemia. In fact, her whole life seemed to have
been one struggle after another. But she was constantly glorifying and praising
God; praying to Him in the worst and the best times. Everything she did was in
service of Him. I was as blessed as I was convicted.
Time and time again I heard horrible
stories, mere glimpses of the tragic reality that their lives have been. I
could see their discomfort in the States, desiring more than anything to be
back home to what they were familiar with. Their desire is understandable, but
how can they go back to their home where they will likely die?
At the end of the week I was so blessed to
hear stories of God’s provision to His people even in the worst of times. These
refugees are part of the body of Christ, just as we are. I went into the week
not knowing that as I should have, but now I do know. I did not go on this trip
to help refugees or to solve their problems. I went, as their sister in Christ,
to learn more about them and how I can bless and be blessed by those people
that are as much of the body of Christ as I am. I learned how to love as Christ
loves. I learned from refugees what it means to love those that are different
than us and how we all have different and specific needs we can reach out to
each other in. We all have different crosses to bear but are still called to
praise Christ. I was really convicted of not having done this as I should,
instead I let my sin and judgments get in the way of knowing how to love. But
these refugees have suffered so much and were so eager to show Christ’s love.
There is so much to learn from them. Someone in my group reminded me that I
will have all of eternity in heaven to get to know everyone perfectly. I cannot
wait until the day that God calls us to our eternal home, whether we even have
an earthly home or not, and we will never have to flee.
