Our mission team arrived back from our trip to Mexico on Monday and the images from the weekend haunt me.  We met families who feared for their lives from Cuba, Venezuela, Columbia, and Mexico hoping to make it to a safe place to raise their families. We played games with children who have not had a bed to call home in over a year as they made their way to Agua Prieta.  We visited with a family sleeping outside the port of entry waiting for border patrol to let them cross the border. And we gathered with volunteers from many denominations, states, backgrounds and cultures trying to help bring dignity to these weary travelers. There are many stories I could share but there is one in particular that continues to make me think… it is the image border wall. 

The border wall has been a topic of conversation in many places—political circles, news cycles, and conversations with family, friends, and strangers. Some of the conversations I have witnessed have included hurtful words, anger and yelling. Others tell their story in silence, passion, and fear. One thing that everyone holds in common is that they have an opinion about whether we should or should not have a border wall. The conversations about whether a wall is good or bad or right or wrong are complicated and I don’t want to discuss that today.  

What I want to share is what the wall looks like. As you approach the wall on the American side of the border you come upon a huge 20-foot tall steel bar wall.  Attached to the wall is the newly installed turpentine wire fencing that spirals across the fencing as far as the eye can see.  The ground is dirt with plenty of space for border patrol to drive along the road and cameras and lights high above the wall to watch for people crossing the border. As we stood there the border patrol watched us.

On the Mexico side of the border, the wall looms tall dividing Mexico and the United States but instead of barbed wire, cameras and border patrol checking there are beautifully painted murals on the steel beams, sidewalk for people to walk their dog, trees and bike lanes create a homey and welcoming feel of a neighborhood park. 

The stark contrast between how the two communities chose to see this border wall is fascinating to me. On one side the feelings of fear, control, and separation.  On the other side: hope, community, and joy.  And I realized that these are the two ways we could respond to any border. 

I am not just talking about the border wall between the United States and Mexico but the many borders we put up in our lives.  Borders and gates in our neighborhoods. Borders that mark where one state begins and other ends. Borders that divide what we believe is right and wrong. Borders between different denominations and religious traditions. Borders that separate education, salary, and status. Borders between which team we think should win the Super Bowl.  And the list could go on and on.   

Not all of these borders are bad.  Some are even important.  But what matters is how we see the border.  Do we see the wall as something to fear what is on the other side? Or do we see the wall as a place of hope and connection with something or someone who is different but not better or worse on the other side? 

I know I have both kinds of borders in my life. Some created because of fears and others created to define what I like and/or believe so that I can better understand my neighbor.

But after seeing the stark contrast between the two—I realize that the borders created by fear need to change. I believe in Jesus who always protects, always comforts, often challenges me for good reason, and invites us all into a world of hope and community. Fear cannot rule my world. Jesus calls us to the very opposite of fear—instead to hope, grace, and love.  I am reminded of Isaiah’s words to the Israelites, “Don’t fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine” (Isaiah 43:1).

What are your borders? And what defines them? Can you join me in building better borders of hope?