January 3, 2007
Emmanuel: The divine border crosser
The week before my first Christmas in Agua Prieta, my two brothers
from South Carolina visited me here on the border. While the pastor
was leading us on a tour of Agua Prieta, my brother David noticed
two young men standing up on the top crossbar of a twelve feet
high fence. This U.S.-constructed barrier is a vivid reminder
of the separation between the United States and Mexico. The two
men were looking toward the east intently and yet patiently.
My brother asked the pastor: “What are they doing?”
The pastor responded that they were watching for Border Patrol
and were waiting for the right time to cross the border—a
border they were not invited to cross, a border they would be
sent back across by force if caught.
Thousands of “undocumented” or “illegal”
immigrants from Mexico and the rest of Latin America cross the
2,000-mile border between the United States and Mexico each year.
In search of a better life for themselves and their families in
the “land of opportunity,” they take tremendous risks
by crossing the border without the proper documents. They are
involved in an all-too-serious version of “hide and seek”
in which they are always the hunted.
These immigrants risk being caught, deported, and jailed by the
Border Patrol. As a nation, we have spent hundreds of millions
of dollars to more than double the size of the Border Patrol since
1996. As the size of the Border Patrol grows, so do the risks
of crossing without documents.
Even if they elude the Border Patrol, undocumented immigrants
face the possibility of death in the desert. Over 4,000 have died
in the deserts of California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas since
the implementation of operation Gatekeeper in 1994. Furthermore,
if and when they arrive at their destination, the undocumented
arrive with many uncertainties, including the uncertainty of finding
a job in a strange culture where a strange language is spoken.
Many arrive in a city where there is very little emotional, spiritual,
cultural, or social support. Yet, despite the great and even grave
dangers, thousands of people risk their lives to cross the border.
The image of the two men on the top cross bar of the dividing
wall that separates our two nations is etched into my mind. The
image persists and seems to creep from the sub-conscious to the
conscious; it makes me wonder if the persistence of this image
is a gift from God, a revelation. As I have struggled to understand
why the image of this pre-Christmas event has stuck with me, I
have come to realize that Christmas is not a nice sweet story,
but rather a story filled with risks and danger. I have come to
appreciate more the scandal of Christmas, the absurdity of Emmanuel—God
with us.
In his letter to the Galatians, Paul says that when the fullness
of time had come, God sent the Son (Galatians 4:4). In other words,
God waited for the right time to cross the border that separated
humans and God. Perhaps God was standing on the top cross bar
until that first Christmas.
Without papers and without an invitation from the authorities
and powers of the day, God crossed the divine/human border for
the sake of his family—the fallen creation. God did a scandalous
thing becoming flesh and dwelling among us in order that we might
have not just life but abundant life.
Much like the two men who were perched on the top cross bar,
God did not cross the divine/human border through channels befitting
a king. God did not cross as a powerful ambassador with political
immunity. When God arrived in the flesh on that first Christmas,
the “immigration officials” did not roll out the red
carpet nor did the local hospital provide an ornate crib lined
with red velvet. God crossed the border as a dependent baby whose
arrival came as his parents were traveling to receive their official
documents from the state (Luke 2). God took great risks in crossing
the border as a vulnerable baby born in an unsanitary stable to
humble parents.
The powers of the day wanted to send Jesus back across the border
as quickly as he had come. King Herod perceived that this newborn
posed a treat to his reign. When the magi failed to comply with
Herod’s plan to dispose of the threat, Herod increased the
size, scope, and activity of his “border patrol.”
He sent them out to find the baby Jesus and send him back across
the divine/human border at all costs. In this failed attempt,
the cost turned out to be the lives of 2,000 children (Matthew
2).
The incarnation of God involved grave dangers. In becoming flesh
and dwelling among us, God risked death for our sakes and for
the sake of the whole creation. Throughout his ministry, the leaders
of the day plotted and tried to entrap Jesus so they could send
him back across the border where they thought he would not challenge
their assumptions of the world.
On Good Friday, the authorities of the day, both religious and
political, having joined forces, sent Jesus back across the border
by nailing him to a cross. Yet, on the third day, Jesus snuck
back across the border and destroyed the ultimate power of death
and separation. In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul proclaims
that “[Christ] is our peace: in his flesh he has made the
both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall that
is, the hostility between us…that he might create in himself
one new humanity in the place of two, thus making peace, and might
reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, this
putting to death that hostility through it” (Ephesians 2:14-16).
The challenge for us is to discern how we as the body of Christ
are to incarnate the gospel of the divine Border Crosser. How
do we follow the One who came to be our peace and to break down
the dividing wall of hostility? How do we participate in the ministry
of reconciliation given to us by the great Reconciler? Can we
be faithful to Emmanuel and build walls of separation?
Mark Adams
The 2007 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 66
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