Seeking Safety in Texas

by Sunshine Gatlin

Then I heard God whisper, "They aren't here to hear you talk. You are here to hear from them."

After a long day of traveling through the intense heat of the Texas/Mexico border, we arrived at Bethel Mission Outreach Center exhausted and ready to rest. But God had other plans.

Shortly after arriving, we received an invitation to attend a small group Bible study just around the corner. We had no idea how many people would be there or what kind of setting we were walking into. To make matters more interesting, the meeting had already started twenty minutes earlier, leaving us no time to freshen up.

We climbed back into the car, drove around the block, and arrived at a small apartment complex. We knocked on the door of a downstairs apartment, and to our surprise, we could barely push it open because so many people were packed into the tiny living room, gathered to hear the Word of God.

Jonathan, George, and Sunshine each shared briefly about why they were there. Then I heard God speak to my heart once again:

"They aren't here to hear you talk. You are here to hear from them."

In that moment I realized this evening wasn't about the guests. It was about the hosts.

So instead of continuing to speak, I asked if we could go around the room and introduce ourselves. One by one, each person shared a little of their story. Some had lived in Roma, Texas, all their lives. Others had crossed from Mexico. There were teachers, homemakers, caretakers, grandparents, and children. Each person had a story worth hearing.

Then it was Carlos' turn.

He sat quietly beside his small, frail-looking grandmother. Carlos wore a bright smile and spoke excellent English. A little shy at first, he introduced himself and told us he would be turning ten years old in just a few days. He was about to start fifth grade. When I asked what he liked most about school, he smiled and said, "The food." The room filled with laughter.

Then his grandmother, Carlita, introduced herself. She spoke only Spanish, so another person translated her words for us. She told us that one day Carlos' mother left home to buy milk…and never returned. Carlos' mother, his father, and his grandfather, Carlita's husband, had all been killed by the drug cartel.

Fearing for their lives, Carlita fled with her grandson across the border into Texas. As she shared their story, Carlos quietly lowered his head and hid his face. Through tears, Carlita explained that although he was almost ten years old, he still cried at night because he missed his momma.

In that moment, politics disappeared. Immigration debates disappeared. All I saw was a little boy who missed his mother and a grandmother doing everything she could to keep him alive.

Whether we agree or disagree on immigration policy, one truth remains: every person is created in the image of God. Every person longs for the same basic things, to be loved, to be safe, to have food on the table, clean water to drink, and a place to call home.

That night, God reminded me that sometimes the greatest ministry isn't speaking, it is listening.

Sometimes people don't need another sermon. Sometimes they simply need someone willing to hear their story.