Accompaniment

By David Larson-Martínez

Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. Then Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah, saying, “So may the gods do to me, and more also, if I do not make your life like the life of one of them by this time tomorrow.” Then he was afraid; he got up and fled for his life, and came to Beer-sheba, which belongs to Judah; he left his servant there. But he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a solitary broom tree. He asked that he might die: “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.” Then he lay down under the broom tree and fell asleep. Suddenly an angel touched him and said to him, “Get up and eat.” He looked, and there at his head was a cake baked on hot stones, and a jar of water. He ate and drank, and lay down again. The angel of the Lord came a second time, touched him, and said, “Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you.” He got up, and ate and drank; then he went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb the mount of God (1 Kings 19:1-8, NRSV).

   I remember going to sleep in a daze after having spent the humid, summer day in tears. It was July 3, 2011, and I was coming to terms with the recently passed Indiana House Bill (HB) 1402. I allowed the always-too-early pitter pattering of freedom fireworks to mask the quiet sobs of my life unraveling as I buried my face into the pillow. HB-1402 prohibited non-U.S. citizens living in Indiana from paying in-state tuition at state colleges and universities. Almost overnight, my full-ride scholarship to Indiana University-Bloomington (with its ideas of International Business) vanished like a dream. I had no way of paying full, out-of-state tuition and no longer had time to apply for any other kind of financial aid. Two nights after HB-1402 had been signed into law, I felt like my life was ending even before I could become an adult. The Independence Day fireworks of the ensuing days only seemed to mock me as I spent long nights in worry.

Having spent my formative adolescent years among the corn and soybean fields of rural, central Indiana, I was no stranger to the anti-immigrant realities which had led the Indiana legislature to choose a draconian response to non-citizen students within the Hoosier state. I spent much of my teenaged life being told by adults to not speak my native language in public spaces, hearing local leaders spewing falsities about immigrants from local radio stations, and being met by callous sermons concerning unregulated immigration from Christian pulpits. These experiences taught me that those in power may often choose to respond in negative ways to those they deem as threatening to their way of life. In my lived experience, the Jezebels of our time are not those who are committed to the polytheism of power, but rather the ones who want to keep power within the one leading structure: White Supremacy.

As I have reflected on my adolescent experience, I have come to assert that followers of Jesus are called to accompany those who are experiencing exhaustion at the hands of those in power. So, what did it look like for someone to offer me a cake baked on hot stones and water?

After the sleepless nights following the passage of HB-1402 I reached out to my pastor, the Reverend Joshua Burkholder. I needed someone who could pray alongside me, and as we met for prayer, he asked why I was so physically distraught. I shared with him all that had happened at the Indiana legislature, and how I felt that my life was crumbling around me. He listened quietly and offered a prayer. After we prayed, he asked if he could share my story with admission office folks to whom he was connected at his alma mater. I said yes. And before I knew it, I had a meeting set up with Phyllis Larson Schroeder at Valparaiso University. She helped me navigate the labyrinth of higher education costs and helped me access financial aid from the private institution which was not bound by HB-1402. By the end of that very summer, I was enrolled in classes and set off to rebuild my dreams. This was all thanks to the cakes and water gifted to me by followers of Jesus when all I wanted to do was give up.

I remember going to sleep in a daze on the night of November 8, 2016, when President Donald Trump was elected for his first term in office. I was not surprised by the outcome, having lived in a small, rural town the year immediately preceding the U.S. presidential elections. I had watched pro-Trump signs pop up on virtually every corner as he made his way to the White House. I was, instead, deep in a daze of wondering what would happen to my dreams of continuing with my education of graduate-level classes and becoming a pastor.

By that time, I had been gifted a full-ride academic scholarship from my denomination (the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America) called the Fund for Leaders which necessitated my going through our ordination process alongside our Master of Divinity program. However, as I suspected (and would confirm by the end of my first year in seminary), our ordination process required any individual attempting to go through it to be legally employable. As immigration policies changed overnight in the first Trump presidency, my legal status ebbed and flowed alongside that of thousands of others. This meant that I was not legally able to be employed, not able to continue through with the ordination process, and losing my full-ride funding. Once again, I felt like the life I had been working towards was ending.

Having spent my young adult years working alongside Phyllis Larson Schroeder at Valparaiso University to cobble together financial aid packages, I was no stranger to needing to pivot. I had spent my university years being told no by scholarship committees who were looking only for U.S. citizens to whom to gift funds, declined by internship sites open only to those with long-term employability goals, and being ousted by those dearest to me for simply being my own self. These experiences taught me that the institutions in power which we humans have created may often choose to acquiesce to the status quo. This hardly ever serves those who are most in need. In my lived experience, the Jezebels of our time are not those who care about proper worship, but rather those who idolize the institutions which have kept them and their own in places of privilege: White Supremacy.

As I have reflected on my young adult experience, I have come to assert that followers of Jesus are called to accompany those who are experiencing exhaustion in their relationship to institutions in power. So, what did it look like for someone to offer me a cake baked on hot stones and water?

After the sleepless nights of not being able to complete my legal employability requirements for my denomination’s ordination track and therefore choosing to relinquish my full-ride scholarship (as if that truly were the choice), I reached out to a seminary pastor, the Reverend Angela Shannon. I needed someone who could pray alongside me and, as we met for prayer, she asked why I was so physically distraught. I shared with her all that had happened in the first months of the new presidency, and how I felt that my life was crumbling around me. She listened quietly and offered a prayer. After we prayed, she asked if he could share my story with admission office folks whom he was connected to at the seminary. I said yes. And before I knew it, I had a meeting set up with Richard Webb at Luther Seminary. He would help me navigate the labyrinth of higher education costs and help me access financial aid from the seminary itself which was not bound up by employability/ordination processes. By the end of my fourth year in seminary, I was busy rebuilding my dreams of becoming a pastor. This was all thanks to the cakes and water gifted to me by followers of Jesus when all I wanted to do was give up.

I remember going to sleep in a daze the night of November 26, 2024, before I was to present myself for an H1B1 Visa interview at the U.S. Consulate in Monterrey, Mexico. I had had to take a melatonin pill after having spent hours tossing and turning with stress. The next day, a consular official would make the decision whether I was allowed to return to my life in the U.S. or not. I had prepped for this moment alongside my colleagues and hired lawyers. We had talked through the best- and worst-case scenarios. As night deepened, my mind filled up with the possibilities and H1B1 Visa would bring, and my body held the dread of yet another well-thought-out possibility crumbling. Sooner or later, the strange city and its desert quietness lulled me to sleep.

Having spent my working adult life in a variety of immigration statuses, I was no stranger to all that could go wrong and the seeming impossibility of what we were trying to accomplish for me at that moment. I had been told resounding ‘nos’ by leaders from the national (ELCA Churchwide) office and the local-to-me-in-its-processes (Indiana-Kentucky ELCA Synod) office. They had reached out to their own trusted immigration lawyers who had said that there was no case to be made for me and, at the first ‘nos,’ these leaders had thrown up their arms in surrender and told me they had done all they could. These experiences taught me that it is often those who can envision beyond the accepted structures, who are poised to live into that world in which we are all made equal. In my lived experience, the Jezebels of our time are those who bow to the gods of polite niceties which ask little from us and end up taking our souls along with them: White Supremacy.

As I have reflected on my adult working experience, I have come to assert that followers of Jesus are called to accompany those who are experiencing exhaustion at not being able to make headway in systems and structures not created for them. So, what did it look like for someone to offer me a cake baked on hot stones and water?

After that sleepless night in Monterrey, Mexico, and following a successful interview at the U.S. Consular office, I reached out to my pastor, the Reverend Ingrid C.A. Rasmussen at 10:45 a.m. Central Time. I emailed her saying, “It is with joy (and unbelief) that I share that the consular official in Monterrey has approved my H1B Visa … best case-scenario!” Pastor Ingrid had been the individual who continued to refuse to take ‘no’ for an answer and was key in finding similarly minded folks. She had sat with me in U.S.C.I.S. offices, had been on numerous calls with our lawyers, had requested patience when we needed to attend to immigration pieces instead of our normal work, and had encouraged an abundant generosity from the congregation. And it was in her own writing that she mentions that this was only the beginning of this journey alongside me. She reminded the congregation that, if they were to see me through the adjusting of my immigration status in the U.S. into permanent residency,  they were committing to ebbs and flows of immigration at least until 2040. This reality will take all the cakes and all the water we can muster to gift, over and over again, as followers of Jesus when all I/we want to do is give up. This time under a solitary broom tree begun in July 2011 may end with joy in November of 2040.

Get up and eat with all of us, otherwise the journey will be too much for everyone. Let us go in the strength that only God can give.

— David Larson-Martínez is originally from Cuernavaca, Morelos, and feels most at home in the Twin Cities of Minnesota. He is a consecrated deacon of the Lutheran Diaconal Association and an ordained pastor of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. 

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