Pastor Carlos Navarro’s Resilience at the Border
By Elket Rodriguez
No ministry at the border has adapted more nimbly to shifting policies than Pastor Carlos Navarro and Iglesia Bautista West Brownsville (IBWB). Over the past six years, their migrant ministry has continually reshaped itself in response to changing immigration policies and practical needs—anchored by a steady, gospel-centered commitment to those on the margins.
Navarro launched Ministerio Golán on April 4, 2019, after the City of Brownsville—across the river from Matamoros, Mexico—asked for help during a migrant surge. The city needed a space to feed, shelter, and protect migrants when existing centers reached capacity. The ministry's name reflected both the biblical “cities of refuge” and IBWB’s spiritual commitment to Israel.
Before that, Navarro had already served as chaplain to unaccompanied migrant children. “I earn their trust,” he said. That trust laid the foundation for broader ministry to families and individuals, long before IBWB became a hub for migrant care. “We have remained steadfast,” he added.
When the “Remain in Mexico” policy (MPP) began in 2019, Navarro opened Casa Golán, a modest shelter for migrants finally released into the U.S. after months in dangerous border cities. Under Title 42—invoked in 2020 and in place until May 2023—he adapted again: hosting those permitted in, meeting migrants at the bus station and Welcome Center, feeding the unsheltered in Market Square, and praying with arrivals at the foot of the Gateway Bridge. His presence became a daily witness.
In 2023, as the Biden administration restricted most asylum claims and further limited entry in June 2024 to CBP One users, Navarro launched a new model: Sarepta. Migrants with same-day flights were welcomed, fed at IBWB, and taken to the airport. Those with later departures stayed at Casa Golán. It was triage—with dignity.
“Surprised by God's grace, mercy, and provision. It surpasses everything,” Navarro reflected. He recounted how God continually sent different people to support the work and affirmed the unwavering support of his church. “The group of leaders didn’t get tired, didn’t get scared, and didn’t leave me alone during difficult times.”
Throughout every shift, IBWB became a trusted space. Local officials, CBP and ICE personnel, and nonprofits referred the most vulnerable: newborns, pregnant women, surgical patients—even children with cancer. “We have adapted to reality,” Navarro said. “We are prepared for high levels of ministry demand, and also to slow the pace without stopping completely.”
While many ministries and organizations have shut down, IBWB continues to reinvent itself and respond to the ever-changing migrant landscape. According to Navarro, the key to the ministry’s endurance has been “passion and conviction for what we do.”
Even when migrant numbers dropped under the Trump administration and fewer releases occurred, Navarro continued ministering. As CBP One releases thinned, he expanded support to shelters like Posada la Providencia and to migrant families renting homes around Brownsville. Casa Golán now serves as a short-stay shelter for those with immigration court in Harlingen. Wherever he goes, food, prayer, and compassion follow.
In six years, IBWB has assisted 91,769 migrants—3,465 through Casa Golán—and witnessed 26,675 decisions for Christ. Navarro’s ministry has never been about politics. It has always been about presence. And through that presence, the gospel is preached—in word and deed.
