Tired mothers push their children in strollers with wheels that are coming off from overuse.
Mere children so afraid of gang violence and cartels that they're leaving their own families before they're in double digits. Walking a thousand plus miles with strangers just to have a chance at asylum. A chance to feel safe.
Mother's hearts breaking as children run off in the night to join the masses.
Pink eye from the dust stirred beneath their sore-covered feet.
Running from the kind of poverty we can't even fathom. Not the food stamp, homeless shelter, food pantry kind of poverty we know.
Afraid of their own government
of political unrest
of gang violence.
Blistered and dehydrated, the children still laugh and play and hope.
How desperate does one have to be to leave their homes, their families, their culture, familiarity, just to have a fighting chance at refuge?
Poor restaurant owners pass out beans and rice and bottled water. The people with the least helping the most.
Then we throw tear gas to those who are just asking for help. 1,243 miles later, and they extend their hands to us with high hopes and are met with poison and push back.
Denying Christ isn't just a verbal renunciation of belief, but the thousand different ways we trample the image of Christ in others.
We renouce Christ by ignoring the cries of the oppressed
by giving stones to those asking for bread
by spraying poison at children asking for peace
by protecting our way of life instead of the actual lives of others.
We deny Christ when we refuse to see his image in the lives of everyone around us: migrant, refugee, native, neighbor, and brother alike.
We deny Christ when we say we carry His name and act nothing like him.
Others will use our lives to define who God is. Do you look like Jesus? The one who offers peace and promise, or are you presenting serpents instead?
We are tabernacled by a holy God.
Filled with the capacity to hold the world within our hearts
to carry the oppressed, the voiceless, the marginalized, and to carry it all with grace.
So as mothers carry babies, and babies carry fear, let’s allow the love of Christ to enable us to carry them.
To respond to their vulnerability with understanding, to respond to their pain with aide, to allow others to jump on the same caravan of Grace that’s been carrying each and every one.