As our van drove up to the unofficial refugee camp, a group of children were already coming over to greet us. “Hello!” They practiced their new English with bright vowels. “Nice to meet you!” It was a beautiful spring day, and I was over the worst of the jet lag after traveling from Texas to Lebanon with a group of six others from my church. On day four of our trip we had visited with Christians who were stretching themselves every day to serve refugees from their old enemy of Syria. Now it was our turn to visit a camp and see it with our own eyes. Fadil*, our guide for the morning, told us that we were invited by Nadia to visit her tent and talk with her. The tent was one of hundreds and hundreds nestled close together just on the edge of town. They were made of wood and covered with plastic, some covered with old billboard material—the walls of homes made from out-of-date advertising. We took off our shoes an...