I poured my life out in volunteer ministry and was halfway through seminary, but there was still no sign that I would ever be in vocational ministry. Worse yet, I was beginning to believe the thoughts that lingered in the corners of my mind—that maybe there was no place for my gender in vocational ministry, and even if there was, I didn’t have what it takes.
Bringing Zack to church was the most challenging hour of my weekly routine. It meant that he had to sit and be quiet. Leaving him in the nursery was impossible, unless I stayed with him, which defeated the purpose. Skipping church altogether wasn’t a good option either: I was a pastor’s spouse (and a pastor myself, taking time off to stay at home), and I deeply believe in the value of raising children within a church community. And so, week after week, we sat. And, while most church members were unfailingly kind and helpful, I could never quite find a way to sit with my own anxiety.
This piece is delves into the moral, ethical, and biblical ramifications of the current practice in the United States of separating immigrant parents from their children. In it, we include reflections on the plight of children in the Old Testament; the plight of families in the Western hemisphere; and the ways in which Jesus, a Messiah who saw the suffering of families, stretched his followers’ moral imaginations.