Is Immigration Divisive?

Written by Andres Romay

That's the question I ask myself as I attempt to track my steps back to the initial excitement of leaving home for Spain. For immigrants, a division can be like a fault on the ground; it separates and creates distance. And inside the crack, a dark void exists. This fault is there to draw the limits of a sovereign region. Crossing from one place to the other is costly. 

In 2018, at 28 years old, I was offered an internship in missions. I never thought of Spain as a place to go. But I wanted to discover if leaving Perú, my home country, was indeed a calling from the Lord to a full-time ministry. I had been considering it for years, and the opportunity came unrequested and as a surprise to me. I wanted to go on a journey with God, to serve Him, and to transcend my weak paradigms.

Once I got there, I was amazed at how seamless my transition was. I fit in very nicely in a small multicultural church in which Spanish and English were the main languages. It was a beautiful exchange of cultures and fellowship, and I gave my whole heart to the people I came to serve. My ministry was with the youth. I was happy there. I was also learning and being discipled myself, dealing with my weaknesses and insecurities. Those first months were encouraging and fruitful.   

But after the first year, I found myself in a sad and complicated position. The leaders of my church were against each other, and as an intern, I was caught in the middle. There were many reasons for the eventual collapse of my church; far too many to display here. I lost protection as a missionary and as a church member. The sheer chaos that I witnessed came from pride, gossip, and selfishness. We all failed in one way or another. It was out of my control, and as much as I wanted to be a peacemaker, I couldn't help. The church eventually split, and I left right before it happened. It was painful and intolerable. 

I was shattered and dealing with resentment. My whole purpose for being in Spain was to serve in that church. My income was quite low. I got into a downward spiral of wrong thoughts, each one worse than the other, and I truly felt abandoned by God. I had no clear vision for the future, a limiting residence status (no work permit), and my fiancée had just moved to Spain. I was torn, directionless, and confused. I came with hope and ended with despair.

I learned that all men, at times, seek their own under heaven, including myself. That, at times, personal gains and agendas play a role in how we relate to one another. And that, at times, we compete with each other. Whether it's because a leadership position gives us authority; or because we might have different views, or different cultures, those things are not the real problem. The problem is our sinfulness. Sin crouches at our doors desiring to have us, and, at times, it gets the best of us. 

Later on, I was called a neophyte by a very dear and good-willed friend who saw me in a bad situation. How could I have not expected trials and tribulations on the mission field? He was right in many respects; I was dangerously defeated and depressed. I also had to go through a reconciliation process, which took time and through burnout too. But looking back, I would dare say that that was not the primary source of my despair, neither the "tyranny of the urgent" found in ministry nor the politics and sin existing in churches. Eventually, I have to look back at the church as the bride of Christ. She's not perfect, but she's beautiful and saved. 

The source of my despair originated from how I handled my limitations as an immigrant. I forgot the blood of Jesus and fixed my eyes on my limitations: low income, no work permit, no access to social security, strict immigration policies, quarantine, and a postponed wedding. Then I began to viciously blame myself for not finding solutions, which has been very harmful. One thing led to the other. I was utterly overwhelmed by my circumstances, my dignity frequently scratched by simple life unpredictabilities, by a lack of stability and roots. I wanted God to give me a firm ground to stand on. Few people understood me. And I didn't properly articulate it. I could not deal with my limitations as an immigrant, my inability to carve out a future for myself and my family. 

Although I'm stubborn, God is patient with me, but I don't think he's only waiting for me to change. He is calmly struggling with me as I figure things out. He is active, just like when he appointed a great fish to swallow Jonah. I have been escaping God, and His healing, because I wanted to fix my problems. Was there a purpose for me to come here? Was this just a way to solidify my relationship with my future wife? Was I brought here to learn the ways of humility? Perhaps all of those are true. Did I find the answers I was searching for? Yes and no.

I'm struggling with God because I want Him to bless me. At the end of the day, we all want that. We receive from God to give to others, we help and serve, but we are all profoundly thirsty for an encounter with the Lord, and we want to be blessed, to be prospered, to have a hope and a future. The sole purpose of our existence is to have God as the object of our worship. The problem is we sometimes forget that God is also holy and that He won't stop until Christ is formed in us. I came here not just with the hope of a better future, but to be changed. He is certainly active in that. I can't see that better future entirely, but I have to trust Him. If I don't, I'm dead.  

So, Is Immigration Divisive?

I haven't talked about Immigration policies because, as divisive as they can be, to Caesar what belongs to Caesar. Being an immigrant can be like being divided within yourself, like having a fault line in the soul. It separates and creates distance: two cultures; two worldviews; two sets of rules; and inside the fault, a dark void takes place. A friend and mentor once told me it's like mourning a part of yourself. A loving and welcoming community might nurture us as we go from one region to the other, but a price still shall be paid. An effort is required, and we might get a limp as a result. But there's purpose in the struggle, for the promises are at hand, and a loving God struggles with us towards sanctification and glory. Like any other fault line, there's a split, but there's no breaking apart. 

My fiancée and I decided to move to the Netherlands, her home country, so another shock might occur. But that's ok. I'm still learning to walk humbly with my God. I'm still learning how to be an immigrant.