In my early 20s, I worked at a mega-church in its community outreach department. Every day, I answered calls from people asking for help through our benevolence fund or wondering what they needed to access the church’s food pantry. The requirements were simple: Show up on Wednesdays — that was it.
The Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, or SNAP, is not that simple.
Administered at the state level, recipients must apply through their state and meet certain income and resource limits. It’s estimated that 42 million rely on SNAP benefits across the country. Unlike church pantries, you can’t just show up to receive the food. But also unlike church pantries, it’s a program that rests on the goodwill of the political parties and is subject to their whims. And for some beneficiaries, it’s in jeopardy.
During the latter part of the longest shutdown in U.S. history, the administration went back and forth with the courts regarding the extent to which the government would draw on contingency funds to ensure food aid continued, generating confusion for beneficiaries who were receiving considerably mixed messages.
This was not about scarcity; this was about political choices. As federal Judge John McConnell’s ruling highlights and multiple sources reiterate, the Agriculture Department had previously admitted that there were sufficient funds to keep families fed through November. While many optimistically point to church pantries and local food banks as the means to alleviate hunger while Congress hashes things out, let me be the first to raise the flag: Local pantries can’t ramp up from zero to 600 in only a few days.
I was troubled about the church’s ability to meet hunger needs before Oct. 1, though. Due to the so-called Big Beautiful Bill, a number of our lawfully present neighbors will not be able to access SNAP benefits, even as the government reopens at the end of this week: refugees who fled persecution and have been granted a new home in the U.S.
Estimates show that these restrictions will push at least 3 million people out of the program. These numbers represent entire families slipping into uncertainty and crisis mode while parents decide which meals they can skip. And when food support is cut, children are the first to feel hunger. That is not fiscal responsibility, it is harm.
These cuts impact some of the most vulnerable families in our country. According to recent estimates, 120,000 to 250,000 immigrants who entered the country lawfully fleeing persecution will be affected, including 50,000 children. Refugees, asylum-seekers, victims of human trafficking and domestic violence already carry layers of trauma and uncertainty. These humanitarian entrants have gone through extensive vetting and met legal requirements. Blocking access to food assistance doesn’t make anyone safer; instead, it puts people who have already endured difficult situations at even greater risk.
It takes enormous courage to rebuild your life in a new country. For many refugees and asylum-seekers, SNAP is one of the first support benefits they receive after being legally welcomed into the United States. It means they can have stability while mom or dad search for their first job. Food is foundational to dignity and survival. And these programs were created to not just help families survive but rebuild. Hunger can quickly undermine every part of flourishing.
There is also a dangerous assumption behind all these cuts. Some believe churches will show up to fill the gap. But I have witnessed firsthand how hard churches work to care for their neighbors. And the reality is that churches cannot absorb the impact of a $186 billion cut to SNAP over the next decade. No local church pantry or community food distribution center can replace this program. Cutting it will have consequences that reach not only into local economies but entire generations. Calling a cut this deep “big and beautiful” is not just misleading, it is inhumane.
Here’s the truth: The United States has the resources so hunger doesn’t have to be part of anyone’s story. We need collective compassion and political will. We need to do the next right thing.
Reza is director of U.S.-Mexico border engagement at World Relief and a writer who lives in San Diego.