Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Growing up in a Christian household taught me a lot about compassion, grace, and radical acceptance. My mother used to say, “Healthy people don’t visit the doctor—it’s the ill.” That phrase wasn’t just about medicine; it taught me about how God operates. His love, His mercy, His table—it was never reserved for the righteous. It was open to the struggling, the forgotten, the flawed.
In our home, I learned about a Jesus who sat with thieves, comforted the poor, and defended a woman accused of adultery. I was taught that no person is too dirty for dignity, and that God’s love does not come with conditions stapled to the bottom of an application form. It was a beautiful, messy, and inclusive kind of faith—one I still carry today.
But lately, as the country is swept up in another round of debates over immigration and deportation—led loudly by many Republican politicians—it feels like that faith is being selectively edited. Ironically, the very people who claim to follow the teachings of Jesus are often the ones rallying behind mass deportations, family separations, and walls taller than compassion.
They quote the Bible on campaign stages and post verses under American flags on Instagram—but if Jesus himself tried to cross the border today, sandals dusty, undocumented, and poor—they’d likely have him turned away.
No paperwork? No entry. Wrong language? Learn English first. Looks “suspicious”? Step out of line, sir.
Imagine Jesus, brown-skinned and Middle Eastern, arriving not on clouds of glory, but at a port of entry. Would those who declare their love for Him recognize Him at all? Or would they see just another “illegal,” someone to detain, deport, or distrust?
This isn’t to say that countries shouldn’t have borders or laws. Of course they should. I believe that immigrants who commit serious or violent crimes should face consequences, including deportation. Public safety matters, and no nation can or should be expected to function without enforcement.
But that’s not the heart of the issue. The real problem is when “enforcement” becomes a stand-in for cruelty. When we stop seeing people and start seeing threats. When asylum seekers fleeing violence are treated like invaders. When children are kept in cages while the words “In God We Trust” remain etched in our courthouses.
It’s worth asking: Who do we become when we turn people away at the exact moment they are most vulnerable?
Jesus said, “I was a stranger and you did not invite me in.” He didn’t mention documentation status. He didn’t ask about work visas. He simply said that how we treat the stranger is how we treat Him.
That line has always haunted me—especially now. Because if faith is to mean anything, it has to mean something at the border, too.
Republican leaders often speak of defending Christian values. But mass deportations, fear-mongering, and racialized rhetoric don’t reflect the values I grew up with. They don’t reflect the Jesus who welcomed the outcast, fed the hungry, and rebuked the powerful.
And let’s be real—Jesus wasn’t exactly a fan of empire or nationalism. He didn’t pledge allegiance to Rome. He challenged it. He didn’t sit in palaces. He walked with the poor. And He certainly wouldn’t be flying first class into a major airport with a stamped passport and legal counsel on standby. He’d be among the caravan, waiting, praying, and hoping for kindness.
So when we talk about who gets to stay and who has to go, maybe we should also ask: would we make room for Jesus, if He showed up without the right documents?
And if not—what does that say about who we really are?
"I received a letter just before I left office from a man. I don’t know why he chose to write it, but I’m glad he did. He wrote that you can go to live in France, but you can’t become a Frenchman. You can go to live in Germany or Italy, but you can’t become a German, an Italian. He went through Turkey, Greece, Japan and other countries. But he said anyone, from any corner of the world, can come to live in the United States and become an American."
President Ronald Reagan
"I received a letter just before I left office from a man. I don’t know why he chose to write it, but I’m glad he did. He wrote that you can go to live in France, but you can’t become a Frenchman. You can go to live in Germany or Italy, but you can’t become a German, an Italian. He went through Turkey, Greece, Japan and other countries. But he said anyone, from any corner of the world, can come to live in the United States and become an American."