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The most striking aspect of the experience was simply being in a place where almost everyone on both sides of the border has Mexican heritage. In the four counties that make up the Rio Grande Valley (RGV), 92% of residents are Hispanic. It was easy for me to notice, because in Indiana that number is closer to 8%. Lake County, near Chicago, has the highest percentage of Hispanic residents in Indiana at 20%. But no matter where you go in Indiana, the Hispanic population is relatively small.

In Indiana, we might see a Spanish-language sign on a restaurant, grocery store, or church, and hear Spanish spoken in a small market. In McAllen, TX, both the employees and customers of Top Golf or Ben and Jerry’s are Hispanic and almost all speak Spanish—the poor, the wealthy, and the middle class, the workers and the bosses. In the Valley, Spanish is not a second language, it is spoken in more than 90% of homes.

This difference shapes everyone’s perspective on immigration. In Indiana, new immigrants face language barriers. Not so in south Texas, at least not for most. In Indiana, new immigrants are often immediately recognizable, especially in rural areas where residents are more than 95% white (non-Hispanic). Not true in McAllen. In the Rio Grande Valley, immigration is entirely about entitlement to benefits and access to schools and employment. It is not about “foreign” culture or language because the immigrants are not foreign except in the legal/administrative sense.

I have read the pastor’s reflections about the trip. They were genuinely affected by it. They described what they learned as they confronted this very different environment and they seemed to agree on the main thing they wanted to know when they got a chance to ask questions.

The pastors learned first that residents of the RGV are concerned about fairness. Laws are laws, and I honestly did not hear anyone suggest the laws were unnecessary. But there was a palpable sense that undocumented immigrants who had been here for decades, who had families full of children who were born in Texas and thus held US citizenship, deserved a fair hearing in their efforts to become citizens. There are many families in the Valley with one documented parent and one undocumented. There are many families with one deported parent. I got the sense from everyone we spoke with that they believed these situations deserved thoughtful consideration.

Friends of the program in McAllen arranged a meeting between our group and two families from the colonias, the neighborhoods where undocumented immigrants live on rented land. In both cases, one of the parents lived in constant fear of detention and deportation. Talking to these folks (through a translator), it was impossible not to feel sympathy. But a voice in my head kept asking, “But how did you come without documentation many years ago?” No matter how closely one holds opinions about the politics of the issue, real people are caught in a very difficult, emotional, position.

The pastors also learned that very different groups of people are helping refugees and asylum seekers. We did not hear much about legal help. We had intended to talk with Customs and Border Patrol and to visit immigration court, but a partial government shutdown made those visits impossible. We did see many different faith groups seeking to meet the immediate needs of others who were in a desperate situation. Misericordia Sin Fronteras in Reynosa ran a large temporary housing center, with small apartments built by Latter Day Saints, where they served migrants of all nations waiting for an opportunity to cross. We also talked to Sister Norma Pimentel, perhaps the most famous advocate for refugees on the Texas side of the border, working through Catholic Charities. Pope Francis called her one of his favorite nuns, applauding her work with those in great need. On the other hand, her ministry, running full throttle in 2023 and 2024, had very few clients in 2025.

Finally, the pastors learned the cartels play an important, ever-present, role in who is allowed to cross. Our Texan guide assured us the cartel would know when our little group walked across the border and got into vans for transport to the church where we’d learn about the refugee mission. Everyone we talked to in Texas or Mexico told us that for anyone to cross the border, even by raft on the Rio Grande, the cartel demanded protection money. The two undocumented migrants mentioned above told us that if they got sent back to Mexico, they would not be able to return to the US because they could not afford to pay the cartels even if they could raise the money for legal fees and paperwork. All talk about the cartels is matter-of-fact, the way people in Indiana might discuss abrupt weather changes or mosquitos. At first I thought the whispers were a dramatized warning to us to stay alert in a rough Mexican border town. After enough mentions, you come to realize this is not a show for our benefit, it’s everyone’s daily experience.

As for what pastors wanted to know, that was easy to assess: They all wanted to know how they personally could help. Then they asked what their congregations could do. Some made donations on the spot. But the most common answer they received was this: Be kind and understanding to immigrants where you live. Treat immigrants with dignity. Recognize that their situation is hard. One of our project’s goals for 2026 is to speak with some of the WPLP pastors and find out what, if anything, they have done differently since their October visit.

No surprise to me that the trip affected these pastors because it had a massive effect on me. I have lived a few different places for stints of at least two years: Connecticut, Georgia, England. But I’ve lived more than 50 years of my life in Indiana. Statewide, African Americans and Hispanics are relatively small minorities here, both under 10% of the population.

I knew, abstractly, that other places in the United States had cultures with greater “Latin” influences. I’ve been to southern California many times, but I was unprepared for the paradigm shift that comes from being in a Texas border town where people on both sides speak Spanish and share Mexican roots. I tell people that “America is 20% Hispanic” or “America has the second-largest Spanish-speaking population in the world,” but visiting the Rio Grande Valley makes those facts come alive in a way the numbers never could.

I do not know how much the visit will change the efforts of the pastors from the trip, but I am certain they have a clearer vision of what it means to minister in a society where, within a few decades, white people with European roots will be the minority. Those changes will come more slowly to Indiana, now and in the near-term future. But the change is coming. It will be reflected in national organizations, like denominations, non-profits, and the government, long before it is fully reflected in Indiana-based organizations. American churches, even in Indiana, will either prepare for the change or be overtaken by it.

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