I wander the streets of Baltimore, searching for the bus stop. Is it this street? No. That other street? No. Maybe I passed it. Turn around, try again.
I find the bus, I board, I anxiously observe all the other charmingly dressed workers on their way to the office. I get off a stop too early. I walk in the hot sun. I finally arrive.
I am greeted by one of the friendliest people I’ve ever met – my supervisor, Folabi. He gives me a brief summary of who everyone is in the office and what they do. I am introduced to my cube and it is here I remain, working diligently for some of the most passionate, loving people I’ve ever met, for a mission I could not agree with more.
This is the end of my third week at Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service (LIRS). As I slowly began to settle into my surroundings and remember names of coworkers, I also began questioning my passions, my desires, my purpose. Why has God lead me here? Why do I feel unsatisfied with my work? Do I have hidden expectations that have not been met? How do I befriend these strangers in all walks of life? How do I stand for the mission of LIRS when I feel so isolated in my simple “intern” tasks?
These questions are not new for me. I have had similar moments of pondering in past internships. So why was this happening again? Before I reveal the answer, I would like to share the mission of LIRS and my part of role in it.
This organization’s mission is to assist in the resettlement process of refugees, immigrants, and asylum seekers. When refugees come to the United States, they have no legal rights, are often placed into detention (essentially a prison holding cell), cannot understand a word anyone says, are often separated from other family members, and are given little support and no guidance by the U.S. government. If their case is approved by court (in other words, they are fleeing from a legitimate fear), they have three months to find housing, a job, and learn English before the government cuts all funding and support. This is where LIRS steps in. Their work, in a nutshell, is partnering with Lutheran churches and other organizations all over the country to provide community support to these refugees as they are beginning the most grueling process of their life.
The work done here is faith-based, as Christ speaks of not turning our back to the stranger. My eyes have been opened to the magic of this commitment, as I discuss projects and outreach strategies with coworkers and interact with refugees. The domino effect of the work done in this little Baltimore office extends on forever, and it was not until joining my coworker at a function in Pennsylvania that I was able to catch a glimpse at the fruit of their efforts here. It is a beautiful, holy waterfall that flows from this office – my frustration and questions as I mentioned previously stemmed from not understanding this waterfall, this trickle-down effect. Why should I feel satisfied sitting in an office all day on a computer? In the summer!? I thought I was out of my mind when I began this cubicle job (and maybe I still am). But if one thing has been at work in this office, it is the Lord.
My tasks have no meaning by themselves. Why am I stuffing name tags for three hours? Well, it is because refugees will wear these name tags as they present their stories to White House staff in the White House on World Refugee Day in hopes of tapping into the powerful emotions of those people that write immigrant legislation.
So, what is my answer to the questions written above? I will never be satisfied in a job if I am seeking worldly gain, such as recognition or experience. The tasks I complete will never satisfy me unless I recognize the power behind each one of them. I am working for an organization that acknowledges the coming Kingdom of God, and this has brought me peace. My efforts are not for myself or even for the refugees I help. Rather, every stroke of this keyboard points to God and His glory, for the purpose of sharing His love and spreading the Gospel “to the ends of the Earth”.