Photo by Maciej Prus: https://www.pexels.com/photo/people-on-a-protest-9841306/
(A five-minute read.)
Let’s play a game of “Would You Rather.”
I asked ChatGPT to create a modern parable. This is what it came up with (based on the specific parameters I requested):
Two people stood at the gates of heaven. Peter waited with a book in his hands, the light of the Kingdom behind him.
The first, a woman with tired eyes and calloused hands, stepped forward.
“I gave what I could,” she said. “I opened my door to undocumented families. Some warned me—‘You’ll let in criminals. They’ll drain the system. You’ll bring ruin.’ Maybe they were right. Maybe I was naïve. But I couldn’t ignore the voice of Jesus: ‘I was a stranger, and you welcomed me.’ So I did.”
Peter looked at her for a long moment, then turned to the second.
A man in a dark blazer stepped forward, chin high.
“I did what was necessary,” he said. “I fought to protect our country. Our economy couldn’t take the strain. Our borders were overwhelmed. I didn’t hate them—I just loved America more. If we collapse, how can we help anyone?”
Peter gently closed the book and looked at them both.
“Here,” he said, “we do not measure how well you protected your way of life.
We measure how well you reflected Christ’s life.”
I then asked ChatGPT to summarize my point. Here’s what it said:
At the judgment seat of Christ, which error do you think weighs heavier: that you mistakenly welcomed in someone dangerous in your sincere effort to love the “least of these”—or that you helped turn away thousands in need because you feared their presence might threaten your country’s safety and financial stability?
Do you think God will judge you more harshly for loving too recklessly in faith, or for withholding mercy out of an instinct for self-preservation—protecting an earthly nation while neglecting a heavenly calling?
So question: would you rather be the first person in the parable or the second?
Who do you think Christ will look at with greater sympathy and mercy?
I know, I know. There are probably at least three objections.
First, some people might say that this modern parable makes it sound like we’re saved by what we do or don’t do, rather than by the grace of God through the sacrifice of Jesus.
If that’s your understanding of the “gospel,” read Matthew 25:31-46 (among other passages). Neither the Bible as a whole nor Jesus specifically are as married to a strict “penal” model of salvation as Reformed people, influenced by Martin Luther and John Calvin, are (and I love Luther and appreciate Calvin).
Second, many more people would probably say the above parable sets up a false dichotomy—that it’s too much of an either/or binary. They will object: we can both care about our country, wanting to secure its borders, and care for immigrants in responsible ways.
I get that objection.
But it seems like Jesus set up a lot of either/or dichotomies in his parables as well.
Read Matthew 25:31-46 again—if you didn’t read it when I recommended it above (or read it again—but this time in this context). In this parable, Jesus sets up a very strong dichotomy. We’re either sheep or we’re goats; we either care for the “least of these” or we don’t.
The goats in the parable could have very easily said, “But, Lord, Lord! We do care for the ‘least of these.’ We just don’t think they should get free ‘handouts.’”
As my good friend, Nathan Brown, said to me a few weeks ago in the light of how many of us lament all the polarization that’s happening in society right now: the gospel does polarize. It calls us to decision.
We’re either in with Jesus and his ways or we’re not.
And this is basically what all Jesus’ parables were designed to do—call people to decision.
Third, I know I probably just sound like an irresponsible “bleeding heart” who wants to open the floodgates at the borders.
But isn’t there an important place to be a responsible steward of one’s nation, making sure we provide for our own before we go bankrupting ourselves on behalf of others?
I’ll just say here what I’ve said—in other words—before: I’m a pastor not a politician. My main concern is how we live out the principles of God’s kingdom of love, which manifests in the ways we relate to and treat people.
I’ll thus leave questions about how exactly a nation should be run to the experts.
Is this a cop out? Probably.
Do I think we should just completely open our borders and welcome everyone in without some sort of legal process? Probably not.
But here’s the bottom line for me: earthly kingdoms and nations will rise and fall, but how we treat the “least of these” will last forever. This is all the more true for those of us who think Jesus is coming back soon, and we thus don’t believe it’s our job to set up and preserve an earthly kingdom on earth before he can return.
And I don’t think God will ultimately care as much about what we did to preserve our temporal nation as what we did to care for his eternal children.
And in my very limited knowledge and foresight, if I’m going to err, I’d rather err on the side of helping his kids rather than preserving an earthly nation.
How that all gets “cashed out” on a practical and political level is probably above my paygrade.
Oh, but one more thing: undocumented immigrants in America are fifty percent less likely to commit violent crimes than people who are born in the United States. So there’s that.
We should thus probably stop using the “criminal” argument as justification for why we need to indiscriminately arrest and deport undocumented immigrants (and, yes, I know this is a political argument and not just a pastoral one).
Shawn is a pastor and church planter in Portland, Maine, whose life, ministry, and writing focus on incarnational and embodied expressions of faith. The author of four books and a columnist for Adventist Review, he is also a DPhil (PhD) candidate at the University of Oxford, focusing on nineteenth-century American Christianity. You can follow him on Instagram, and listen to his podcast Mission Lab.
Two things:
It's interesting that verse 32 says, 'all the nations." I realize it could also be translated as "people," but could it not be suggested that if God judges positively those who, as a nation, care for the naked, hungry, and homeless, He could also provide for that nation's temporal needs as well?
And on the micro level, my board was once discussing the readiness of a baptismal candidate and an elder said something that's stuck with me through years of ministry. He said, "When I get to heaven I'd rather have Jesus tell me I let someone in who wasn't quite ready than that I kept someone out who was."
Really appreciate this column. The issue of immigration has been on my mind a lot over the last couple of days—especially as I listened to the former Prime Minister of Australia make the argument (on the podcast Political Gabfest) that democrats should always have been for a sealed border. I considered his arguments—and how he seemed to make sense—at first. But as I thought about why this sounded sensible, I realized that I had fallen into a “scarcity mindset,” which always engenders holding on tight to what I/my community/my nation have—resources, etc. Like you, Shawn, I don’t have any answers for all of this. But I do think it’s important for me to step back from that scarcity mindset and see if I can look at situations without fear—which is really at the heart of scarcity concerns. Faith over fear.