God is not overwhelmed by us. That’s the story I hear time and time again when I read the Scriptures. No circumstances or ‘status’ deters this truth. I learned the love of Scripture at my local church. My small immigrant Latina church also taught me that I can come to God with everything, especially the uncertainties of migration. Migration is about the movement of people, and the movement of people across cities and nations is not new. When we look at Scripture from Genesis to Revelation, we see various factors that push and pull people to migrate – famine, civil unrest, political persecution, family reunification, and seeking new opportunities – all as part of the greater story God is telling and inviting us into.

Sunday evening prayer services were filled with indescribable authenticity, and you knew Holy Spirit was present. It was somewhere between coritos – short, repetitive Spanish spiritual songs – and congregational prayer that they taught me what it means to acompañar (literally, ”to accompany”) – essentially, to be present with each other and, in many ways, “to carry one another.” My Latina church taught me that you aren’t alone, no matter what the journey entails, as we have one another in loss, pain, distress, and hope. 

In Luke 24:13-31, Jesus shows us the sacredness of acompañamiento (accompaniment) – a willingness to go and be with, to come alongside. Two of Jesus’ followers are walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus the morning after Jesus’ burial. Their journey was miles of feeling distraught and confused, wrestling with the reality that, ‘This does not make a lot of sense,’ as the man they had set their hope on had been arrested, crucified, killed, and then buried. Verse 14 tells us, “As they walked along, they talked about everything that had happened”(Luke 24:14, NLT). While Luke doesn’t record (at least word by word) what they were discussing, I can only imagine that they were talking about how they were sad that Jesus had died, and now his body was gone. Perhaps they were even debating and asking themselves, “So what do we do now?” 

As they were returning home, the resurrected Jesus suddenly showed up and started walking with them. Jesus listened for awhile, and then compassionately and gently joined their conversation. Verse 17 in particular shows his tender approach: “He asked them, what are you discussing so intently as you walk along? They stopped short, sadness written across their faces” (Luke 24:17, NLT). 

The U.S.-Mexico border wall holds many potent emotions, lingering doubts, and deeply human experiences, much like the road to Emmaus. The sacredness of acompañamiento doesn’t only happen within the four walls of a little immigrant Latina church. I have witnessed it at tables over a shared meal or hot cup of coffee, at the bedside of a hospice patient, and most recently, I have seen it at the U.S.-Mexico border wall. This place reminds us that we need the company of others. When we lean into the invitation of acompañamiento as followers of Jesus, we witness places like the U.S. southern border become holy.

God is not overwhelmed by us. That’s the story I see in the Scriptures. No circumstances or ‘status’ deters this truth. Migration is about the movement of people, and the movement of people across cities and nations is not new. (1/3) Share on X

When we look at Scripture from Genesis to Revelation, we see various factors that push and pull people to migrate – famine, civil unrest, political persecution, family reunification, and seeking new opportunities, among others. (2/3) Share on X

All of these complicated reasons for human migration exist as part of the greater story God is telling and inviting us into. (3/3) Share on X

I met Leila¹Names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.  and her mom a few weeks ago during an operational support shift with various humanitarian organizations responding at the open-air detention site known as Whiskey 8 in San Diego, California. They had been on the journey for nearly three months. Arriving from the Middle East, Leila’s mother spoke very little English, and Leila, who was six years old, spoke no English at all.

For almost a year, these open-air detention sites have existed; it’s a temporary holding area along the U.S.-Mexico border. They are named open-air detention sites because people who are fleeing their home countries seeking asylum are being held out in the open between the two border fences, without access to water, food, and other basic necessities. Humanitarian aid organizations seeking to accompany them can provide aid through the slats of the northernmost layer of the border fence. Those fleeing and seeking asylum – many of whom are women and children – are held or asked to wait in these detention sites until Border Patrol agents pick them up. 

In only a few short hours, Lelia and I had co-created a sacred space of acompañamiento that centered human connection, kindness, and play without speaking the same language. We passed the time making silly faces and giggling at each other through the northernmost steel slat border wall.

When the time came, the Border Patrol agents arrived for pick-up. The agent quickly followed protocol and declared, “No food or water. You can’t take it with you.” He signaled at their food and then pointed to the trash can. Realizing what had been said, Leila’s mom opened her backpack and took out three loaves of bread. She turned around, handed me the bread through the border fence, and smiled. I was deeply moved by her generosity, kindness, and compassion to share with strangers – other asylum seekers like her, whom she would never meet.

My small immigrant Latina church taught me that I can come to God with everything, especially the uncertainties of migration. No one is alone, no matter what the journey entails. We have one another in loss, pain, distress, and hope. Share on X

When we read the Scriptures and look at the deeply compassionate life of Jesus, we see him coming alongside people in unexpected places, time and time again. In Matthew 14:13-21, Jesus and his disciples find themselves in a remote place. Overwhelmed by the crowds, the disciples look at Jesus and say, “This is a remote place, and it’s getting late. Send the crowds away so they can go to the villages and buy food themselves”  (Matthew 14:15, NLT). Jesus is not overwhelmed by this, as verse 14 says, “he had compassion on them” (Matthew 14:14, NLT).

The sacredness of acompañamiento is evident throughout Scripture. Whether on the road to Emmaus, at a remote mountainside, or at the U.S.-Mexico border – Jesus shows the power of presence, proximity, and compassion. We need the company of others. Acompañamiento is a holy invitation to carry one another through the complexities of uncertainity, grief and hope. It a witness to the faithfulness and nearness of God, reminding us that we are never alone.

///

The sacredness of acompañamiento is evident throughout Scripture. Whether on the road to Emmaus, at a remote mountainside, or at the U.S.-Mexico border – Jesus shows the power of presence, proximity, and compassion. (1/2) Share on X

Acompañamiento is a holy invitation to carry one another through the complexities of uncertainity, grief and hope. It a witness to the faithfulness and nearness of God, reminding us that we are never alone. (2/2) Share on X

*Editorial Note: Liliana’s compassionate, sacred, and tender articulation of the deep value for accompaniment that she first learned from growing up in her small Latina immigrant church, and that presently informs her work advocating for just and fair immigration with World Relief on the U.S.–Mexico border, is the ninth article in a summer series that we will publish over the next few weeks, introducing our 2024 Writing Fellows Cohort in their own voices. ~CK