By Cameron Vickrey

Remember back to last year when the words “quarantine” and “pandemic” felt like words out of a historical fiction novel, and no one had ever spoken the words “social distancing?” This year has given us new vocabulary and new meaning for old language as well, like “fear” and “love.” “Don’t live in fear” and “Love your neighbor,” both phrases that my brand of Christianity prescribes closely to, now associate with two opposing camps—maskers or anti-maskers. 

1 John 4:18 begins with “There is no fear in love,” it quickly explains why: because “perfect love casts out fear.” The anxieties of 2020 have taken their toll on each of us, but persevering in love is the way forward. It keeps fear in its place. 

The anti-masker crowd (and I assume, the anti-vaxxer crowd) tries to confront fear by ignoring it. As if acting fearless makes you impenetrable. We know that doesn’t work.

Fear is a part of how God speaks to us. We can recognize fear, acknowledge it, even respect it. We are taught to fear God, after all. Fear gives us pause. It helps us to evaluate a situation with clear eyes. Our bodily responses to fear put us on alert. Like when a parent yells at their child using her first and middle name, it stops the child in her tracks (or should). Fear breaks us out of our trajectory and presents a new opportunity. Then, we can choose what to do next. 

An angel’s opening line is always “Fear not.” Because angels instinctively know the person they’ve just startled is full of fear. The angel is teaching us what to do with our fear. Fear has served its purpose—the angel has our attention, and we are listening. Fear can now sit down. 

Franklin D. Roosevelt said, “Courage is not the absence of fear, but the assessment that something else is more important than fear.” The angel has something more important to tell us. An opportunity that will require us to “fear not” and press on in love. 

I know an amazing group of people who have lived this out in 2020—the pastors who live on both sides of the U.S.-Mexico border and have ceaselessly served immigrants and refugees during the pandemic. 

Lorenzo Ortiz, Jorge Zapata, Eleuterio González, Rogelio Pérez, Carlos Navarro, Israel Rodríguez, Rosalio Sosa, Juvenal González. They are not bowing down to fear by giving up their ministries. But they also are not ignoring fear. They know the risks; they understand the threat of the virus, and they have adjusted protocols accordingly. Having assessed the situation, they also know something is more important than the fear of COVID-19—the lives and well-being of the immigrants who continue coming to the United States border because they have nowhere else to go. 

Because of their deep love and compassion, these pastors choose courage. Every day, they “fear not” as they drive into refugee camps and deliver food and supplies, or visit the shelters they manage for immigrants who wait in Mexico for their hearings. 

Some of them have contracted the virus because of their ministry, and thankfully, they have made full recoveries. 

Indeed, 2020 has made the situation far worse for immigrants and refugees at our southern border. But these pastors have made a dire situation more navigable for many people, because of love, which has been strong enough to cast out their fear.

The faces of these pastors are what I picture when I reflect on what love looks like today. It must be the same kind of love that moved God to enter this fear-filled world in the form of a vulnerable baby. And the same kind of love that moved that grown baby to the cross years later, despite his fears.

“Fearing not” without love (like not wearing a mask) isn’t God’s way. But “fearing not” because of love leads us to a deeper understanding of God.

To support Fellowship Southwest’s ongoing Immigrant Relief Ministry all along the border, click here.

Cameron Vickrey manages the communications for Fellowship Southwest from her home in San Antonio.