Guest Columnist: I was homeless and you gave me no shelter

By Andy Peabody

Sitting down, Stephanie, our housing director, slid an all-too-familiar piece of paper towards me. Immediately I knew what was happening in the ministry’s emergency night shelter. The first time was finally here; the moment I’d been dreading for months. “They came from Cherokee County looking for a place in the shelter,” Stephanie added.Looking away from the unsigned document, Stephanie asked: “Now, as I understand it, if they feel they cannot honestly sign this piece of paper stating they are United States citizens or legal permanent residents 18 years of age or older, we cannot provide them with emergency shelter even for one night, even if we have open beds.”

My head filled with emotions: values and rational processes all clamoring for my attention. Could I retreat from our position that whether or not we agree with this new law, the state of Georgia - and Cobb County - have told us we have to do this? Was I absolutely sure the shelter received the requisite county, state, or federal monies to make it subject to this new process? Might we offer the two men (who had already confided their undocumented status) the gift of hospitality and “sanctuary” in the sanctuary of the former church that now serves as our ministry’s emergency shelter? Was I prepared for the consequences of saying, “No, this is wrong and I choose not to do this – we will not turn these individuals away from the help we have within our power to extend”?

The document is an affidavit representing Cobb’s efforts to implement SB529, the Georgia Security & Immigration Compliance Act. While I vehemently disapprove of the law and the way my particular community has seen fit to enact its provisions, in that moment, I felt my hands were tied. I looked Stephanie squarely in the eyes and said with as little emotion as possible, “For now, we have to do this. If they can’t honestly answer in the affirmative, we cannot offer them emergency shelter, regardless of the extent of their imminent need.” For a long time after Stephanie left, I felt an absence greater than could be explained by her departure. A coldness had entered the room, one which wrapped itself around my heart. I closed my eyes and reached out for God in prayer, and instead felt a distinct and palpable absence of God’s presence. Then it hit me – in turning away two strangers in a strange land, I had turned aside Christ himself from the doors to which he had come seeking assistance. The longer I sat in solitude, the more convinced I became that I had done the wrong thing – whatever the law might say. I felt I had stepped from the light into shadow, and that to re-emerge into the light I would have to speak out for those who’d had no advocate to stand up for them when they came to our doors seeking shelter and hospitality.

So I am speaking out – not as the representative of MUST Ministries, nor of the North Georgia Annual Conference – but as a man who is deeply, deeply troubled by how far astray we seem to have wandered with SB529. Some, in good conscience, will disagree with me – so be it. I know and respect many who do. But I hope those who are similarly concerned will join me in speaking out, ardently and consistently, against policies that force us to choose between hospitality to fellow humans in need and obedience to the laws of our land.
Martin Marty, the eminent theologian and columnist for The Christian Century, reminded us at a conference in Atlanta recently - we all know what xenophobia is, but have we forgotten about xenophilia, love of the stranger, and hospitality? At times, we all must choose whom to follow; now is such a time. The need is literally knocking on our doors.

Andy Peabody is a probationary clergy member of the North Georgia Annual Conference of the UMC serving MUST Ministries in Marietta, Ga.