Every day Juana Ortega says she fights a battle against boredom, but that is a preferable opponent to the ones that would separate Ortega from her family and home.
More than two decades after fleeing violence from her native Guatemala, Ortega came to North Carolina to start a family. A seamstress by trade, Ortega and her husband, Carlos Valenzuela, managed to make a life for themselves and their four children. That changed when immigration officials initially tried to deport her back to Guatemala.
Ortega recalls the fear she felt while in custody, but decided to do whatever she could to stay with her family. They decided their best bet was to turn to St. Barnabas, a nearby sanctuary church.
St. Barnabas, an Episcopal church in Greensboro, and other churches like it offer a respite to those targeted by current immigration policies. Not to be confused with sanctuary cities, entire communities that have committed to not work with immigration enforcement agencies, sanctuary churches take non-compliance with immigration officials a step further.
According to Jay Kennett, a pastor at Hillsborough (North Carolina) United Church of Christ, sanctuary churches like his take advantage of immigration enforcement agencies' current unwillingness to raid places of worship.
"I can't exactly say why they leave churches alone," Kennett said. "Maybe they have internal rules about where they can and can't go."
U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcements did not respond to requests for comment.
There are three sanctuary churches in North Carolina, the School for Conversion in Durham, Umstead Park United Church of Christ in Raleigh and St. Barnabas, which is currently Ortega’s home away from home, although it doesn’t always feel that way.
"I'm just waiting for some kind of change," Ortega said.
While Ortega has had to sacrifice her home, she has been able to see her family who visit her regularly. She dare not leave the church to travel out of fear of being picked up and handed over to immigration officials by law enforcement.
Although she is grateful for the safety the church provides, staying away from her family isn’t ideal. Ortega has been living at St. Barnabas for three years.
“We found out information from American Friends Service Committee on the internet, so we went to talk to them and they helped us to get into sanctuary,” Ortega said.
America Friends Service Committee is a social services organization based in Greensboro. The committee, which helped Ortega get in contact with St. Barnabas officials, is one of a number of organizations that provide help or advocate for change in immigration laws.
There are a number of churches and pastors that, while not home to undocumented residents, advocate for changes to immigration laws. Kennett, a Burlington resident by way of Virginia, is one of them.
Kennett said that while there are only three churches in the state currently harboring undocumented residents, a church can still be considered a sanctuary church if they are open to serving as sanctuaries or based on the advocacy work they do.
Kennett said that his church hasn't hosted an individual or family seeking sanctuary yet, but they are willing to.
"We would not exclude the possibility of someone residing in our building," Kennett said.
Randall Keeney, pastor of St. Barnabas Church in Greensboro, said church’s like Kennett’s are instrumental to the effort. While his church has only been active in immigration activism for a handful of years, Keeney's church became a sanctuary in practice three years ago when Ortega sought their help.
Since then, Keeney has grown increasingly frustrated with lawmakers and what he describes as the deliberately slow pace at which they are helping people like Ortega.
"It's the disappointment [Ortega] has been living with for the past three years," Keeney said. "No one is willing to help her. It's a lack of courage or compassion by those in charge."
In the meantime, Keeney is happy to have Ortega.
"To offer sanctuary and peace to those that need it, that is one of the key tenets to Judeo, Christian, Islamic faith," Keeney said. "We're just living that out the best we can."
Both Ortega and her husband appreciate sanctuaries like the one Keeney offers, but they both admit it has been difficult.
While Ortega is stuck in Greensboro, her family lives in Asheboro. Ortega's immediate family members take turns coming out to Greensboro to see her.
"It's just not the same," Valenzuela said. "It's just really hard for us."
A number of activists throughout the state understand the difficulty of being tethered to a church because of immigration status. Recently, Kennett and Ortega took part in the #Freethemall Caravan, an event meant to raise awareness for those living in sanctuary.
Kennett said that while sanctuaries provide safety from immigration enforcement officials, it likely isn't an ideal living arrangement. "There hasn't been a lot of people moving into a sanctuary because it is a lot like self-imprisonment," Kennett said. "The people who are in a sanctuary now would need some change in our immigration policy."
Nevertheless, Kennett said he saw the benefits of the sanctuary program. His church formally became a sanctuary five years ago. Kennett said he wasn't able to ignore those who were susceptible to immigration policies he and others felt were unnecessarily draconian.
"Certainly, we heard a lot of the rhetoric after the 2016 elections," Kennett said.
Not everyone was on board becoming a sanctuary church. Kennett admits to having lost some parishioners.
Kennett believes that, although the immigration issue is among the most divisive of topics, he and others like him are on the correct side of history.
"I am always willing to engage in dialogue," Kennett said. "I would want to share some of the stories that have touched me and my life ... and help people who can't see that our immigrant neighbors are just like us."
This article originally appeared on Times-News: North Carolina sanctuary churches offer shelter, advocacy to immigrants
