On July 1, 2018, I preached a sermon at Keller Park Church in South Bend, Ind., where I pastor, on the story of Peter and John’s confrontation with the authorities recorded in Acts 4. When religious and political leaders try to silence Peter and John from sharing the good news, they respond, “Whether it is right in God’s sight to listen to you rather than to God, you must judge; for we cannot keep from speaking about what we have seen and heard.”

Based on this passage, we developed a chant for our children that Sunday:

We must obey
our Father above.
We won’t stop talking
of Jesus’ love.
Whatever your color,
whether weak or strong,
wherever you come from,
we all belong.

This chant, which seemed like an appropriate way for our Mennonite congregation to observe Independence Day weekend, soon became our church’s mantra. As we repeated it, week in and week out over the coming months and years, it instilled in our congregation a willingness to defy religious and political authorities when necessary in order to be a place of radical welcome.

Four years later, in the fall of 2022, we had the opportunity to put our mantra into action when my spouse, Andrea, received a call about a woman in her early 20s who had recently arrived in South Bend after fleeing her home country in Central America. As the director of the nonprofit Neighbor to Neighbor, which assists refugees, asylum-seekers and other immigrants in South Bend, Andrea was accustomed to receiving such calls.

But this one was different. The woman, who spoke no English and had no relatives in South Bend, was being admitted to Memorial Hospital to deliver a baby. Andrea rushed to the hospital, where she was the only “friend” there to accompany the woman through labor. Drawing on her high-school-level Spanish, Andrea welcomed her new friend Yesenia (name changed) to the country before welcoming her son, Junior, into the world.

When I joined Andrea at the hospital, the nurse asked if we were Yesenia’s parents. We told her, no, just friends, before proceeding to assist with her paperwork.

Yesenia had been staying in a makeshift attic apartment with a few other Spanish-speaking adults, but the arrival of Junior made that arrangement untenable. When the other tenants asked Yesenia to leave, she had no place to go. She messaged Andrea in desperation.

Years prior, our congregation had purchased and renovated a dilapidated house across the street from the church. Naming it the community house, we repurposed it for our food pantry, storage space, youth room and pastors’ offices. When Yesenia’s situation became known, the congregation re-repurposed it overnight as sanctuary for Yesenia and Junior, who otherwise faced the streets or deportation.

Congregants furnished one of the office rooms with a bed, crib and rocking chair. Someone purchased a hot plate for the kitchen. The administrative assistant created a sign-up using the app Lotsa Helping Hands for volunteers to bring meals, take Yesenia shopping or accompany Yesenia and Junior on a walk around the neighborhood. One of the pastors took loads of laundry to the parsonage to clean and dry. Many congregants offered monetary donations for diapers and other supplies.

“This situation is meant to be temporary,” Andrea wrote to the congregation at the end of October — about a month into Yesenia’s time at the community house. As Andrea sought a long-term housing option through her Neighbor to Neighbor connections, she reflected, “This is a bit like the sanctuary model, in which accompaniment is a key component. Though I don’t believe that ICE is actively looking for her, she doesn’t have a clear pathway to permanent residency, and so housing and employment are a challenge.”

Within hours, half a dozen congregants had replied to Andrea’s email with a consistent message. “I’m not in any hurry for Yesenia to leave the community house,” one wrote. Another added, “I want Yesenia to feel ready to move out when she has proper support in place.”

A couple of days later, Andrea re­plied, “Yesenia seems much more at peace and happy in the last couple of weeks than I have seen her. She keeps her emotions pretty private, but I can definitely tell a difference in her demeanor. She has told me that all of the church people are great (that’s all of you!), so thank you for being a positive force in her journey.”

By early December, Yesenia was able to connect with compatriots on the East Coast. When she expressed her readiness to move east, Neighbor to Neighbor bought her a bus ticket and some snacks for the trip, and she was gone as quickly as she arrived.

When we shared with the congregation that Yesenia had moved on to a more permanent location, one congregant responded, “Oh my goodness, this is big news! I’m so glad to have met them, and I will be praying for good things ahead for them. Thank you all for all you’ve done!”

The next Sunday, we gathered for worship and recited our mantra. As we concluded, “wherever you come from, we all belong,” thoughts of our new friends Yesenia and Junior were still fresh in our minds.

David C. Cramer is communications assistant program director at the Institute for Social Concerns at the University of Notre Dame and pastor at Keller Park Church in South Bend, Ind.