Stories of Hope

When asked what she hopes for, B.A. says, “First, our hope is always God. Second, I hope God will help me to see my family before I die, so we can be in one place and live life together.”

A Foundation of Faith

Faith has been an integral part of B.A.’s life and family history. She attended church with her family from the time she was a little girl, then raised her own children in the Christian faith. “I believe that Jesus is the truth, the way, and the life,” she says. “My kids are now involved in church back in my home country, too; some are singing, and some are preaching.”

Several years ago, however, political strife violently disrupted B.A.’s life. Close family members spoke out for democracy and political change; as a result, they were murdered by the government. B.A. herself faced imprisonment and torture. “I ran out of that country to save my life, because they wanted to kill me, too,” she recalls.

B.A. sought asylum in the U.S. – a painful journey because she had to leave her children behind. Still, local churches have continued to provide crucial support and encouragement both to her, in the US, and to her children back in her home country. “God is with me and my children in any condition,” she says.

“People who knew my history helped to hide my kids when I fled,” she says. “More recently, when my daughter became sick, her church community helped send her to the hospital to get surgery.”

Faith and Hope in Community

When B.A. arrived in Minnesota, she also wanted to get connected to a local church, so she started looking for information on congregations from her ethnic group. She heard about a pastor in Minneapolis that came from the same region of her country and started to attend his church. She continues to be involved even after moving to Jonathan House in St. Paul.

A life-giving faith or worldview plays an important part in recovering from forced displacement, and faith communities often provide important spiritual and relational support to individuals who are seeking asylum. As B.A. states, “Thanks be to God, my faith has helped me everywhere to live in hope.” 

Because of the important relationship between faith and hope, IAFR seeks to support Jonathan House residents, as they desire, in their spiritual growth and help connect them to their local religious communities.

“Jonathan House encourages me in my faith,” B.A. says. “You enter with me into my problems to pray with me. You got me connected to my church and talked with my pastor. This is what I appreciate.”

Sheltering Hope

The pandemic temporarily closed the doors of many places of worship, including B.A.’s congregation. Headaches resulting from injuries she suffered back home have also made it challenging for her to attend church in person. “The pastor calls me and prays with me. He invites me to attend when I can; he’s an excellent pastor.” IAFR staff helped B.A. access her church’s worship online so she can still participate in the community. 

As she waits to be reunited with her local church family in person, and eventually with her own family, B.A. expresses gratitude for the community at Jonathan House. “It is a very nice place for asylum seekers,” she says, “You accept people as family.” The safe, stable shelter of Jonathan House is one more way that local churches invest in the resilience and faith-filled hope of refugee neighbors.

“My life is because of God, by his protection and care through all the difficulties,” B.A. affirms. “God is the One who kept us safe; he is the One who did it. We know how we are weak and fallen, but God keeps us safe and saved us, so we praise him.” 

“When God will open the door of his house, we will go and worship.”

Sarah Miller, founder of Jonathan House, tells the behind-the-scenes wonders of how Jonathan House went from thought to action. Miller calls the idea the ‘pie in the sky,’ a little out of reach, but attainable with faith and prayer.

By Tatiana Lee, Guest Author

Did you miss the other installments? Catch up with A Hopeful Haven: Part 1 and A Hopeful Haven: Part 2.

Resourcing The Vision

Miller was talking about Jonathan House everywhere she went, praying and asking God to provide. “I had to identify the personnel that would be needed. I knew I needed a full-time staff and one part-time staff, or something like that. The Jonathan House proposal also included a goal of raising 45,000 dollars to set-up and operate Jonathan House for 18 months,” said Miller. “Resources are what I was faced with, and I was the only person. I just thought, ‘Great, God. Now what? It felt huge.” 

So, first, how to meet the funding goal: $45,000?

A couple that financially supported IAFR heard of the project and donated the first $600. It was a start, Miller explained. A donation that made funding for Jonathan House come alive.

One particular Saturday in September 2016, Miller went to a writing workshop in St. Paul. During the lunch break, Jonathan House became a topic of discussion. Another woman attending the writing class perked up at the mention of asylum seekers. Her visible interest caught Miller’s eye. Miller and the woman, SJ Holsteen, decided to meet a week later.  

Holsteen volunteered to help write the first fundraising campaign that November. The online giving campaign exceeded its goal of raising 10% of the launch funds and helped give momentum to the project. Holsteen and Miller collaborated on grant proposals that also helped provide initial funds.

December of 2016 brought a couple that were working with asylum seekers in Sicily for 3 months. Josh and Jen Levin, heard of the project, met with Miller and joined IAFR to start Jonathan House. 

“I never even got to recruit anyone; God just brought them,” said Miller. 

During the summer of 2017 Miller continued to receive calls from organizations with asylum-seeking clients in need of housing, asking if Jonathan House had launched yet. Then Miller went to the conference in Texas and received the ultimate starting sign from Ashley Freeman, the founder of another asylum seeker housing ministry, DASH Network. Freeman ended the conversation asking, “What are you waiting for?” 

The Vision Realized 

After coming back from Texas, Miller met with Holsteen and the Levins to plan out and launch the vision. The first goal on the timeline for Jonathan House was to have a signed lease for a two bedroom apartment by September 1, 2017.  Miller began looking on Craigslist. 24-hours within searching for a place to call Jonathan House, Miller got a call from Jenna Daniels, the Pastor for Awaken Community  Covenant Church, St. Paul. 

Daniels had previously been involved with helping spread word of Jonathan House. She called Miller to tell her about an opening for a house apartment owned by another Covenant church. Miller set up a meeting with Anne Vining, Pastor of First Covenant Church. Vining explained that the church had actually been hoping to have the apartment rented by September 1. They fast tracked the meetings, partnerships and lease agreement. Miller had the key in hand for the two-bedroom apartment by September 9.

The same week, before the lease with First Covenant was even signed, an email came through the MN Asylum Network about a house up for lease through St Stephanus Lutheran Church in St. Paul’s Frogtown neighborhood. Miller began talking with the St Stephanus church council; it took a year of planning and raising additional funds, but Jonathan House opened the Frogtown site in early 2019. Both of these sites are in partnership with a local church, which is one of the highest values for Jonathan House. 

“We didn’t even have to go looking for church partners; they came to us,” said Miller. 

The metaphor Miller used to explain the concept of Jonathan House was the “pie in the sky.” It all seemed like such a far reach. But the whole project was God bringing the personnel, the locations and the resources. All of it. 

“For a good year there, my theme was God being all about pie in the sky,” said Miller. 

Jonathan House is the first supportive housing program in Minnesota designed specifically for and uniquely serving asylum seekers. In the three years of its operation, it has provided shelter to 17 men, women and children going through the asylum process. Seven individuals have moved on from Jonathan House into stable employment and housing. 

Miller ended the interview sharing that through the entire process, “We are not the saviors. We have to trust in God.” 

He is the great savior and just as Miller said before, the pie in the sky.

Sarah Miller, founder of Jonathan House, tells the behind-the-scenes wonders of how Jonathan House went from thought to action. Miller calls the idea the ‘pie in the sky,’ a little out of reach, but attainable with faith and prayer.

by Tatiana Lee, Guest Author

Need to start from the beginning of the story? Read A Hopeful Haven: Part 1 first.

The Vision 

In 2013, Miller decided to research more about asylum seekers in the US context. She wanted to compare her experiences working with asylum seekers in Germany to what happened to asylum seekers in her own country.

She was confounded by what she discovered. 

In Germany, the government provided housing, food, essential medical care, and education for asylum seekers. They were not allowed to work, but the German government made sure they were provided for while their cases were being decided. The situation for asylum seekers in the US was a very different story. The federal government did not provide food, shelter or education. The asylum seekers were not allowed to work for a minimum of their first six months in the US; this wait period before qualifying for legal work authorization has recently changed to 365 days. The more shocking part was the US government often held asylum seekers in detention centers, even though they had committed zero criminal acts. 

The detained asylum seekers had done one thing: crossed the border in search of asylum, a legally-recognized right by both international and US law. 

Around this time, Tom Albinson, Miller’s boss at International Teams, left and started a new missions organization called International Association for Refugees (IAFR). While she stepped into a different role as International Teams’  U.S. Area Director, ultimately Miller decided to join Albinson’s small but growing team at IAFR so she could address the large gap she noticed in the US government’s response to asylum seekers.

Miller’s first assignment was to research the situation. She looked into a lot of ideas and concepts nationally, trying to figure out who was doing what with asylum seekers.  Miller had an intern from Bethel University help her investigate what was happening locally, as well. They met with anyone and everyone in the Twin Cities engaged with asylum seekers in some way, shape or form. Through this process, Miller came into contact with Center for Victims of Torture (CVT),  The Advocates for Human Rights, Sarah’s…an Oasis for Women, The Basilica of St. Mary and a couple other church groups.

Through this local research, Miller saw two concerns. First, the various groups and organizations were not well connected with each other. While talking to one group, they would tell Miller to talk to another group about a matter that came up. It raised a question, “What would happen if at minimum we each knew of each other and what we had to offer asylum seekers? How could that benefit asylum seekers here in the Twin Cities?” 

The answer resulted in the establishment of the Minnesota Asylum Network. In 2016, Miller and an intern from Advocates for Human Rights started to gather the Minnesota Asylum Network for quarterly “sack lunch” events to discuss or learn challenges specific to asylum seekers. 

Through these meetings and research, the second concern Miller became aware of was the gap in housing for asylum seekers. There are around 3,000 refugees seeking asylum in MN and only 50 beds in the Twin Cities shelters available specifically for asylum seekers. 

Miller started praying, asking God about the housing issue, and asked her boss about what a solution would look like. Albinson told her to write a project proposal. 

Miller wrote up a proposal for a supportive housing program that would guide asylum seekers into a safe space of shelter, practical help, and community in Minneapolis-St. Paul. A space granting asylum seekers a chance to survive and recover from the trauma of forced displacement. 

But what to call it? 

Miller thought of a story Albinson, IAFR’s founder, told her once. Albinson was at a refugee camp when a man came to him and asked if he could open a door for the man to get into the US. Albinson could not, but asked to pray with the man at the camp. Albinson was grateful for the opportunity of prayer he had with the man at the camp because it encouraged the man.

Albinson compared that to the story of David and Jonathan, when David was on the run for his life and was hiding in caves. Jonathan could not change the circumstances of David’s life, but he did go to him and was present with him in helping find strength through God. 

Miller decided to call the project Jonathan House. 

Miller submitted the proposal; the IAFR board approved. Miller was excited, but also asked herself: what was next? 

Read the conclusion of the story at A Hopeful Haven: Part 3.

Sarah Miller, founder of Jonathan House, tells the behind-the-scenes wonders of how Jonathan House went from thought to action. Miller calls the idea the ‘pie in the sky,’ a little out of reach, but attainable with faith and prayer. 

by Tatiana Lee, Guest Author

Sarah Miller sat on a plane the last week of July 2017, heading from Minneapolis, MN to Texas for a work conference. She kept praying, asking God if it was time to look for a house. 

Not a house for herself. Miller and her team had raised $20,000 of their $45,000 goal to open Jonathan House, the first Twin Cities metro-area housing program designed specifically for asylum seekers. The team was continuously receiving inquiries about vacancies from social workers, immigration lawyers, or asylum seekers themselves. There was only one problem: the house didn’t exist yet.  

During her time in Texas, Miller met up with Ashley Freeman, the founder of the Dallas Asylum Seeker Housing (DASH) Network, to discuss the project and funds for Jonathan House. DASH’s founder asked Miller how much money they had received toward the project launch.

“$20,000,” responded Miller. 

Freeman was shocked. “We only had $1,000 to get started! What are you waiting for?” 

Miller came home to Minnesota after the conference. A day later, she learned of an additional unexpected $10,000 donation toward Jonathan House. This donation was the green light that let Miller know: it was time. 

The Call 

Sarah Miller, born in Jamesport, Missouri, grew up constantly moving. After her freshman year in high school she moved from Michigan to Indiana, then two more moves within Indiana during her high school years. The constant moving during high school became a challenge; every year, a new school, new friends. In the midst of this overlapping pace of change, Miller kept another constant close to her heart: her faith in God. She grew up going to church with her parents, took part in youth group and heard constant talk of mission work.

“Church was really pivotal in my faith,” said Miller, who accepted Christ into her heart at age 16. 

Her first mission trip was to Haiti when she was 18. The vibrant faith she saw in the Haitian believers stood out to Miller. The believers had few possessions but held so much joy. It impacted Miller to see that ‘stuff’ does not make faith. 

In her mid-20’s, Miller went to Germany with a team of 17 people. After Miller came back from Germany, she was wide open to the idea of missions. A group of her friends were discussing a mission trip to Austria they were about to go on with an organization called International Teams. Someone mentioned their group would be working with refugees. Miller had never heard about the issue of forced displacement in the world. When her friends described the plight of refugees, a heaviness weighed in her heart.

“No audible voice,” said Miller. “Just this heaviness that came over my spirit about refugees.” 

Definitions of Forced Migration

At this time, it was the late 1980s. Miller had made a three-year commitment to serve as the VBS director at Community Gospel Church in Bremen, Indiana. But during her time at the church, the heaviness in her heart never left her. Finally, in the 1990s, Miller applied to International Teams and within a year found herself in Germany working with asylum seekers.

When an individual flees the danger of war or persecution in her country, she may seek haven and permanent residency in a foreign country; this person is known as an asylum seeker. The asylum seeker lives in the country where she is looking for refuge while she goes through the legal process to receive refugee status. 

Miller was in Germany for nine years and met asylum-seeking refugees from all over the world. “Depending on what was happening in the world, then you would see a wave of people from those countries,” said Miller. 

 Finally, it came to a point where it seemed that God was closing the door on Miller’s time overseas. In April of 2001, she came back to the United States, waiting to see what God had next. Eventually, she moved to Minnesota to work with the International Teams’ Refugee Ministry Director. 

In Minnesota she connected with resettled refugees through ESL and literacy training. In the early 2000s more individuals joined International Teams, and they partnered with Arrive Ministries in helping resettle Bhutanese refugees. 

According to the United Nations, resettlement is the transfer of the most vulnerable refugees from a hosting country to another State, upon agreement, for permanent resettlement. Compared to asylum seekers, the resettled refugee has been given a stronghold, because when they arrive in the country of permanent resettlement, like the United States, they have the assurance of security. 

But what about the asylum seeker that has not yet been granted refuge, Miller wondered. What was their journey like when they came to the United States? She decided to investigate.

Read the rest of the story here!
A Hopeful Haven: Part 2
A Hopeful Haven: Part 3

A.A. learned to clean the house at the age of five. At age six, her mother taught her to cook bidena (a type of bread) and sauce. “In our country a girl gets married at an early age,” she explains, “so we learn housekeeping as children.”

“I wouldn’t go out and play. I preferred to be in the house cooking.” A.A. smiles at the memory. “My mother and neighbors blessed me when they saw that I worked like that.”

A.A. remembers with particular fondness cooking a special meal for Eid, the day after Arafah, a Muslim celebration to commemorate the Hajj. “It was like a test,” she says, “You had to cook bidena, chicken, sauce, and kineto.” She worked beside her mother to produce a feast that sustained more than her family. “Our neighbors were invited,” she shares, “and the poor would be fed.”

As A.A.’s story reflects, food is more than a basic human need; it expresses culture, community, history, and personality. For someone who is seeking asylum, having consistent access to nutritious and culturally-appropriate food is an important step in recovering both physical and mental health in the midst of forced displacement.

However, many asylum seekers in the US find themselves in a situation where basic survival, including food security, is at risk. Without access to government assistance and barred from legal employment for an extended period of time, asylum-seeking individuals must rely on others to meet their basic needs. This can result in inadequate or inconsistent access to nutritious food, culturally-inappropriate food, or disempowering dynamics between the individual and those she must rely on for assistance. This was the case for A.A.:

“Before I came to Jonathan House, I was living with another family from my ethnic community. They gave me food, but it wasn’t always well prepared, and they would give me a begrudging look when they gave it to me. My social worker offered me food from their center’s pantry, but when I took it home, my hosts told me, ‘We don’t need outside food’ and put it in the trash. After that, I would keep food in my purse and eat it at night after other people had gone to bed.”

The dependency and isolation of her situation became a psychological burden to A.A. “They would tell me, ‘You need to leave our house,’ and I would just cry, because I didn’t have anywhere to go. What life was like before I came to Jonathan House, I felt like it wasn’t much different than what I suffered in my home country. It even got to the point where I wanted to put myself in front of a car.”

Thankfully, A.A. shared her struggles with a friend, and he counseled her to stay hopeful.  Soon after, her social worker told her about a new house opening for asylum-seeking women. “She told me, ‘Wait, because maybe they will have a place for you.’” A.A. became the first resident at Jonathan House’s site for women and children after its launch in March 2019.

The day after her arrival, church partners helped welcome her with groceries and a special griddle for cooking bidena, the bread her mother taught her to make as a child. “I cooked and enjoyed my meal in freedom,” she says. 

Monthly food assistance provided through the generosity of partners like you now allows A.A. to purchase her own food at a neighborhood ethnic market owned by her friend. “I’m able to go to the store and buy everything that I need. At Jonathan House, I’m able to live, eat, sleep, and go in and out in peace.” A.A. has also put a lot of care into tending a small garden at Jonathan House, where she’s planted peppers and tea plants she knows from her home country.

When asked what she desires for the future, A.A. expresses a hope to be granted asylum and work authorization soon. “Being reunited with my kids must also be part of my journey,” she adds firmly. ”I eat good food now, I sleep good sleep, but my kids are scattered all over the place.” Her children, still in a place of active conflict, face their own serious problems of food insecurity.

As she waits for this longed-for reunification with her children, she continues to bless, love, and welcome others at Jonathan House with her gardening, her cooking, and her friendship. “I don’t have any relatives nearby except God and Jonathan House,” A.A. says, “I am a woman who didn’t have a home or relatives. You made that woman settled, made her safe.”

Thank you for helping our asylum-seeking neighbors access healthy, culturally-appropriate food as they recover from forced displacement. Your support of Jonathan House residents has a life-changing impact.