J Walking

A friend sent this to me. It kind of speaks for itself

I went back home last week and had dinner with some old friends. It was fun chitter chatter about all the expected things. Now that we are a bit older, however, we started talking about more parental-type things – like how the schools were doing.
The response, at first, seemed expected. They live in a nice, quiet area in the mountain west, the kids were good, there were quite a few Christian teachers, but unfortunately there were some serious drug problems in the high school now. That, I was soberly told, was because of “the immigrants.”
Really? I asked.
Oh yes, the precious little town had become a “haven” for illegal immigrants and it was “ruining everything.”
My friends were convinced that a local Hispanic “drug ring,” run by folks who worked at the local McDonald’s, was responsible for all the drugs coming into the town.
And, my sweet friend said she had stopped giving money to a local charity who provided food, clothes and Christmas gifts to families in need.
Because now they were supporting mostly Hispanic immigrants, presumably illegal.
What truly shocked me about the exchange was that this friend, who by all accounts is a gentle, loving, generous Christian, visits the sick and takes food to shut-ins and volunteers at church. Apparently, her charity ends with immigrants? Maybe poor white people are more worthy of her efforts?
I know there are a lot of politics around immigration – problems with schools and health care and taxes. They are big, serious problems.
But, it seems to me, Jesus sought out the poor, the different, the needy, even the “undesirables” of his day. Samaritans anyone? Tax collectors? In his day, children and women, for that matter. Forget government programs, it seems that immigrants – illegal or not – have as much right to eat, and to feed their children, as I do. It’s all about “rights”, isn’t it? My friends thought the illegal immigrants did not have rights even to our charity. The “crumbs from my table” as the Bible calls them and Bono sings about.
The exchange made me feel even less comfortable, but even more blessed, to be sitting at my extravagant table at all, knowing I didn’t earn that right either.

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