John Cherek joined the Jonathan House community earlier this year in a committed volunteer role through the Ignatian Volunteer Corps. We are so grateful for John’s warm spirit and dogged efforts to support residents in challenging situations. Here, he reflects on a recent service trip to the U.S./Mexico Border.

The opening verses of the Christian song, The Summons Hymn, begin with these words:

Will you come and follow me if I but call your name?
Will you go where you don’t know and never be the same?
Will you let my love be shown? Will you let my name be known,
will you let my life be grown in you and you in me?

Little did I realize as I participated in a week of volunteer service at the Texas border, that these words would help me appreciate and give meaning to this experience as well as my volunteer work at Jonathan House.

At certain times in our lives, we feel called to do something that has the potential to promote the goodness of humankind and to build up the kingdom of God through community. Often, we resist those nudges, dismiss them, or set them aside for another day. Fear of the unknown or what may lie ahead if we follow the call prevents us from taking the step forward to respond to the call.

John’s Story

As an Ignatian Volunteer Corps member, a year ago I was asked to provide service to Jonathan House, part of the International Association for Refugees. I knew absolutely nothing about either organization. I had little or no knowledge or experience working with asylum seeking refugees. But my name was being called and I decided to go where I didn’t know. The service time at Jonathan House with new working friends and house residents was preparing me for a trip to the Texas border town of Alamo, located in the southernmost art of Texas near McAllen.

The first day there started in the rain walking to a grocery store. Coming out of a bakery, Maria invited us into her truck to take us to the market. We were total strangers. She dropped us off in front of the store and we thanked her profusely. With a backpack of food, we emerged from the store into a deluge of rain and started back to the hotel. We just resigned ourselves to being soaking wet. After about a block or so, a car pulls up along side of us and the driver says he has two ponchos for us. We were total strangers. Donning the newly acquired ponchos, we moved across a busy road to Walgreens. Shaking ourselves off like wet dogs, we gingerly picked up a few items and went back into the incessant rainfall.

After deciding to take a less traveled street back to the hotel, we continued our journey. Within a few minutes time, a truck pulls up near us and Maria rolls down her window and says, “get in, I have been looking for you.” In disbelief, like God had come out of a cloud, we jumped into Maria’s truck. Now shaking with wet ponchos, she said “let me turn on the heat.” Arriving at the hotel, we sat in the truck and could not stop expressing our gratitude to Maria. After telling her we were there to volunteer in Alamo, she shared that at one time, after immigrating from Mexico, she was welcomed and served by many volunteers. In turn, she tries to give back to anyone in need, whether a ride in the rain is needed or food needs to be shared. We were no longer strangers.

Who is Serving Who?

We had come to Alamo to serve, but those we thought we were going to serve turned out to be servants to us. Maria and our friend with the ponchos had welcomed us and shared what they had so we might not get soaked to the bone. We were strangers no more. We will never be the same and only hope that we can share love of neighbor as love has been shown to us.

And that is the message and mission of Jonathan House—to welcome and care for refugees so we are strangers no more, but, human beings loving and serving each other in response to the call of Jesus.

-Story by John Cherek

For the last several years, the Jonathan House staff and residents have taken a summer trip up to Camp Amnicon on Lake Superior. It is always a pristine setting to get away for a while and relax. We spend our days there swinging in hammocks, sitting on the beach, kayaking on the river, playing games, and talking around the fire. No work, no agenda, no meetings. It is a time simply meant to relax together as a community and enjoy each other’s company.

Over the years I have watched as the informal setting has equalized power dynamics and allowed people to let down their guard. At Amnicon, we are all simply friends. Sometimes funny stories are told, or old traumas are processed. Sometimes new skills are learned, or old ones are resurrected. Sometimes people share deep spiritual revelations, and sometimes they just sit quietly in the silence of the summer afternoon knitting or sleeping or reading a book. All of these moments seem to flow naturally together, creating an atmosphere of restorative rest in God’s creation.

While I personally was not able to attend this year, I still got a little taste of the beauty of the week as I visited with residents in the week afterwards. I walked into the men’s house one morning to see Salana reclining in a chair smiling and looking more relaxed than I had seen him in the five years I’d known him. I inquired as to the reason for his very different demeanor, and he told me he had not had a vacation for seven years and said,

“I never believed it could be possible to feel so rejuvenated.”

Safety. Stability. Support. Community. These are words you hear from us all the time and for me, this story really captured the “why” behind them. Those are some of the key ingredients that help people to truly recover from all that they have been through before arriving in the United States and all that they continue to face as they fight to establish themselves in a new place. When given time and space outside, with a safe community, and a caring God, all of us can breath a little better as our hearts and bodies find the space they need to mend.

We are beyond grateful to Camp Amnicon for generously gifting us this retreat free of cost each year. If you are looking for a time of rest and rejuvenation for your own mind, body, or soul, take a peak at their website, http://www.amnicon.org/. They offer personal retreats year round in their beautiful, private cabins. You won’t regret it!

Riding the Struggle-Bus

It started at the gym. Jonathan House resident Pascal and volunteer Eric became workout buddies, and while they exercised, Pascal shared about his housemates’ struggles to get to work without a driver’s license or car. He said, “I could see my housemates waking up at 3 a.m. for a 6 a.m. shift” so they could catch the bus. Pascal knew these guys were smart and hardworking; it was a hard to see them spend so much time struggling to travel to subpar jobs.

The struggle hit home when Pascal himself received permission to work and began applying for jobs. Pascal worked with robots in his home country and hoped for a job in his field but was limited to applying for lesser jobs on a bus line. Without a license and car, his brilliance would go untapped. Even grocery shopping was complicated: “You may need to go multiple times a week because you can’t carry much on the bus,” he said.

A Community-Driven Solution

Pascal noticed a lack of driver’s education programs accessible to immigrants. The existing resources were expensive and not tailored to the needs of immigrant adults. This gap inspired Pascal and Eric to create Change Drivers, a non-profit helping new Americans access transportation and career opportunities. Pascal dedicated his time while still at Jonathan House to making Change Drivers a reality. He is now a co-founder and board member.

nspired by Jonathan House, which provided him safe and stable housing, Pascal aims to offer similar support through Change Drivers. “Knowing that I’m helping others in my situation motivates me,” he said. As Change Drivers enters its second year, Pascal has received his driver’s license, purchased a car, begun work and moved out from Jonathan House. He hopes both Change Drivers and Jonathan House continue growing, helping more new Americans offer their gifts in our community.

Uprooted Again

It all began with the garden. It was spring and time to plant. Alamnseh eagerly shared her plans for the garden beds outside, listing the vegetables she wanted to grow.

But I knew something she didn’t – she was going to move before summer was over. Who wants to sow seeds when you won’t be there to reap the harvest?

A church partner was making changes, including selling the property we rented for the women’s Jonathan House. The residents all needed to move.

The church softened the blow, however, by offering us another home they owned. When I broke the news to her, she smiled. She knew the house and liked it. It was larger, newer, and just a stone’s throw away. Best of all, it had a spacious backyard with a large garden plot.

Working Side by Side

The church wanted to make the new house welcoming, so they undertook some remodeling projects. The timing was perfect.

Moving day coincided with the arrival of a church volunteer team – comprised in part by several strong teenage boys – coming all the way from Oklahoma. On the day of the July Jonathan House Community Meal, we gathered, shared food, then got to work. Despite the relatively mild summer day, the lifting, carrying, and constant movement left us all with sweat-soaked shirts.

We embodied the saying, “many hands make light work.” Jonathan House residents, staff, and volunteers worked side by side, quickly completing the move. This experience highlighted the value of partnership at Jonathan House. We seek resources beyond our own, collaborating with churches, local groups, and displaced people in our community.

Partnering to Thrive

The minor disruption of this move pales in comparison to the larger story of forced displacement and transition that Jonathan House residents face. By partnering effectively, we can achieve our goal to be a community of shelter, hope, and healing where Asylum Seekers and Americans thrive together.

Moving day culminated with a prayer circle in the living room. Now everyone is settled, adjusting to the new space, and Alamnseh is reaping a harvest from the garden.

Story by Josh Levin, Jonathan House Program Manager

Sow seeds of hope and healing through prayer

Below are prayer points to get you started. Then subscribe to receive the Jonathan House Beyond Shelter newsletter. Get stories of hope and prayer opportunities straight to your inbox!

– A family took a big step toward long-term stability, finding their own housing and leaving Jonathan House. Pray for them as they adjust and continue rebuilding their lives.

– Asylum seekers work hard to rebuild their lives, but without achieving asylum status it’s like planting seeds in a garden that you’re not around to harvest later. May God grant them favor to win their cases and gain permanent refuge in this country.

These are Real People

A Palestinian man living in a car in St. Paul. A pregnant mom from Ethiopia, currently homeless. Two parents, a baby and a preschooler from Honduras, staying with relatives who can no longer support them. These are some of the 46 people who have inquired about housing at Jonathan House since the beginning of the year. All of them are in Minnesota on a journey to save their lives, seeking permanent safety from persecution through the U.S. asylum system.

With your support, we’ve been able to house and support 31 asylum-seeking neighbors over the last six and a half years, but we typically turn away 19 people for each one we’re able to welcome. God has an open door for each of these beloved ones, but our capacity is limited. Each “no” is a fresh heartbreak. 

My own son, Sammy, is also 4 years old, just like that kid from Honduras. Recently he saw a person holding a sign at an intersection, asking for help, and wondered out loud whether we could let him come live at Jonathan House. I explained that we don’t have room, but Sammy wasn’t satisfied. He feels deeply that no person should be without a home. 

I told Sammy what I’m about to tell you: “We’ve been working hard on a plan to make Jonathan House bigger so we can help more people.” Sammy responded: “That would be a lot of work, Mommy. You can’t do that on your own.” 

Then he hatched a plan: “You should tell your friends about Jonathan House, then they can tell their friends and they can tell their friends and EVERYONE can come help build the big house!” 

He’s a smart kid. 

Widening the Doors of Welcome

So here’s the big news: we are building a big house, and we need you to come help build it – and to bring your friends, too. 

I am thrilled to share Growing Hope, our new 3-year strategic plan. You’ll see that this year we’re building our capacity with staff, funding and programs so that by the end of 3 years we can move into a new facility with doubled capacity. 

I invite you to share in this adventure. Jonathan House is more than a shelter; we are a community of shelter, hope and healing where asylum seekers and Americans can thrive together. When you join us with a recurring donation, you are widening the doors of welcome. You can have a direct impact on neighbors fleeing persecution and help them to rebuild their lives in our community. 

When you join the Keychain Collective with a recurring gift before April 15, you’ll not only have the satisfaction of unlocking the door to welcome, you’ll also receive a special travel mug thank you gift and an invitation to an intimate dinner party for Jonathan House insiders only. 

Join us on the front lines of hope.

By Ella Skiens with Rachael Lofgren, IAFR Staff

“I had nowhere to sleep at night. I was having a hard time.” Salana was referred to Jonathan House through a connection to the Center for Victims of Torture. Like many asylum seekers, he had been unable to find stable housing since he wasn’t allowed a work permit for the first year in the US while he waited for his asylum case to be decided.

Over the last four years, Salana shares that it was Jonathan House “who helped me with my food, my shelter, my clothes, all my needs… It was Jonathan House who helped support me, the one who carried me through this time.”

At Jonathan House, he was connected to legal services through the Advocates for Human Rights. After a long wait, Salana recently had his final asylum hearing. Before the hearing, he invited Jonathan House staff to pray with him for a favorable outcome. Staff accompanied Salana to court, waiting and praying in expectation with him. But the court-appointed interpreter didn’t show up, and after waiting for over an hour, the judge decided to reschedule.

Five days later, Salana again waited with his lawyer in the courtroom for the interpreter to arrive and help him answer the judge and defense’s questions.

But the interpreter didn’t come. Instead, something incredible happened. The judge accepted the lawyer’s appeal to decide the case then and there without an interpreter present. The judge agreed that there was credible fear of persecution based on the information submitted by the lawyer and in his asylum application. He told Salana, “my denial rate is 92%. Congratulations, and I hope you use this privilege to do good things in the United States.”

Being the 8%

It all happened so quickly that Salana was confused when everyone came up to congratulate him. Only when his friend, who spoke his language, explained did he realize he had been granted asylum. Like always, he joked with his broad smile when recounting that God had made it easy for him. His face glowed the rest of the afternoon as he celebrated with staff over a meal. He was excited to tell his large family about the victory but had to wait because it was night on the other side of the world where they lived.

Receiving asylum is the first major obstacle removed from their path toward reunification. To Salana, having asylum in the US means “a place where you can have a home and be safe from danger, and your family is safe from danger.” His hope for the future is to be with his family and to live in peace. Peace is one of the most important things to him.

And while he waits for reunification with his family, Salana compares Jonathan House to family. “They have been like a father and a mother to me. As long as I live, I will never forget what Jonathan House has done for me.”

Photo by MegHuff Photography

By Ella Skiens, Jonathan House Staff Member

It’s 9 pm on a Monday, and Alamnseh sits at the kitchen table in Jonathan House. She pours over an English packet on the table. With thick glasses perched on her nose, her finger guides across the black letters as she sounds them out. Her housemate passes by and tells her, “Alamnseh, good student.” Upon hearing the compliment, she laughs and says, “No good student. Old woman.”

At the age of 60, she is learning a language again. The rest of us at the women’s Jonathan House tell her that she is not old and that she is a good student. She is young, and when we say that it makes her laugh. We explain that although she has been taking beginner English during the four years she has lived at Jonathan House, being a good student is someone who tries regardless of what level they are at, regardless of what age they are. She is young and strong for starting over in many ways to live in the US.

It’s Never too Late to Learn a Language

Almost 50 years after her last time at school, Almanseh has found a classroom at the International Institute. In February 2019, Alamnseh began literacy classes with no prior experience in English. She started timid, learning letters and practicing basic skills like holding a pencil. Since then, Alamnseh has continued to be in her “Beginner English” class, striving to learn her third language and overcoming significant barriers in her way. Through it all she is dedicated. Her teacher, Stacy Dietrich Varney, Languages Program Manager and English for Work Instructor at the International Institute expressed:

“It is rare that someone who starts with no literacy in their 50s perseveres to her level of learning; language learning becomes so difficult as we age. As a literacy teacher for almost a decade, I have no other student with which to compare Alamnseh.”

This last Fall, Alamnseh was awarded a certificate for over 1,500 hours of studying English at the International Institute. The award was proudly displayed and shared by passing around a picture of her and the certificate to many friends. When sharing what the award means to her, Alamnseh explained, “It makes me really happy, and proud, and gives me encouragement to keep studying.”

The stakes feel high for Almanseh. Her deepest hope is to be granted asylum and be reunited with her family after six years apart, something that has taken much longer than she ever anticipated. And in this waiting, she practices English.

A Community of Transformation

What the public might not see at Jonathan House are the women sitting down at the table together, helping one another with a language that is at varying degrees of new to them. After a third or fourth attempt at pronouncing a word, the room may erupt in laughter together at how unashamed and fearless you must be to try again, and that is Alamnseh.

Much of her success she attributes to her teachers at the International Institute and the resources at Jonathan House. “Jonathan House has helped me by encouraging me, by sitting down and teaching me, by telling me, ‘it’s okay, you’re going to learn. It’s going to be difficult, but it is going to be useful. Just be patient, we are here for you.’”

Alamnseh, too, has encouraged many of us never to give up. “I don’t know if she knows it but knowing her has made me a better teacher and overall person,” shared Alamnseh’s teacher, Stacy.

With over 1,500 hours of English practice accomplished, nothing changes for Alamnseh. In the evening she will sit down and pick up her English packet again and softly sound out words to herself. It’s in these quiet moments of self-study that her determination shines the most. Jonathan House is honored to stand with and witness the remarkable resilience of people like Alamnseh and celebrate the successes of personal goals being accomplished as residents choose to fearlessly build a future in the US.