What the Refugee Church Can Teach the West

We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 2 Corinthians 4:8

On Aug. 16, the BBC aired their weekly religious show, Songs of Praise. Typically the show features churches, communities, and worship services from around the U.K. However, on Aug. 16, the show broke with tradition and aired from a refugee camp located in Calais, France.

Back in 2011, Europe began seeing a growing number of refugees entering their countries from North Africa. As the Arab Spring grew in momentum, so too did the number of refugees fleeing instability, war, and oppressive governments. The civil war that is currently decimating Syria has scattered millions of refugees from Turkey and Lebanon to Greece and most of the EU.

The desperation of these refugees is seen not only in their willingness to transverse the deadliest natural border in the world — thousands have died already this year while crossing the Mediterranean — but also in the distance many of these refugees have trekked to reach European soil. Along the way, refugees are targets for abuse, kidnapping, and murder.

To date, approximately 200,000 refugees have landed on European soil, mainly in the Mediterranean countries of Italy, Greece, Malta, and Spain. Due to its proximity to the U.K., the port city of Calais, France, has witnessed the development of an unofficial refugee camp called “The Jungle.” From this location, many refugees attempt to either stowaway on vehicles entering the channel tunnel or attempt to walk the length of the tunnel. 

Against this backdrop, fears of a migrant “invasion” are growing within the U.K. With these fears come misinformation, scapegoating, and hostilities towards the migrants waiting in Calais. So, when one of the U.K.’s most beloved religious programs took the opportunity to profile a group of Ethiopian and Eritrean Christians and document the church they built within the “jungle” of Calais, you can imagine the resulting shock.

Some sources, such as the U.K.’s Daily Express, labeled the profile a propaganda piece, called for punitive measures against the BBC, and claimed the BBC was a politically biased institution out of touch with the concerns of the common tax payer.

But what the story revealed was this: that at the borders of one of the largest and most influential national churches in the world, this flimsy construction of tarps and plywood reflected the endurance of faith, the tenacity of hope, and the beauty of grace with more elegance and majesty than Europe’s empty cathedrals.

Along the shores of France, amidst their desperation for freedom and security, these individuals reached out with their one remaining possession — the one thing that sustained them during the thousands of miles of bitter travel, that remained unvarnished despite repeated use. They reached out with their faith. In so doing, they shared the light of Christ with the surrounding darkness.

Within a cultural environment where faith resembles a type of social wallpaper rather than a conviction of the Holy Spirit, the refugee church demonstrates an essential Christianity. In its endurance, the refugee church exposes the weaknesses of a coddled Western Christianity. In its neglect at the hands of Western Christians, the refugee church reveals not only the struggles of the early church but also the beauty of Christ’s accomplishments through his downtrodden, cast out, and despised followers.

By sharing their simple time of worship with the BBC, the refugee church — whether in Calais, the border towns of the American Southwest, or the remotest refugee camps of the world — has demonstrated the great commission, in lands and among people who conveniently have chosen to forget.