Thoughts, Prayers & Art

Originally published: May 30, 2025

This morning, I awoke with a weight in my spirit, a grief too great for silence. The images flooding my mind are not from some far-off dystopia. They are from the here and now. Vans sweeping up fathers on their way to work. Mothers clinging to their children. ICE agents armed with authority and indifference. Faces pressed against glass. Souls pressed against cruelty. And all of it happening in the land we once dared to call a beacon of hope.

I cannot help but see the echoes of history, the terrifying resonance of the Sturmabteilung, the Brown Shirts of Nazi Germany, whose earliest acts of terror were wrapped in the language of “order,” “safety,” and “national pride.” Like then, we are told this is for our protection. But fear dressed up as patriotism is still fear, and it breeds hatred. The lie is old. The damage, always new.

In the face of this, we turn to Scripture. Not as a balm to numb us, but as a fire to awaken us:

“You shall not oppress a foreigner; you yourselves know how it feels to be foreigners, because you were foreigners in Egypt.” – Exodus 23:9

“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing so some have entertained angels without knowing it.” – Hebrews 13:2

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faith.” – Matthew 23:23

These are not soft words. They are indictments. God does not ask us to be neutral. God commands us to be just.

We are a nation that once cried out for liberty and justice for all. But now, we see how deeply that “all” was caveated. The American Dream has become a gated dream, guarded by whiteness, fragility, and the myth of supremacy. And we must name it plainly: this is sin.

This is not about national security. This is about spiritual sickness. The idol of whiteness in this country has grown fat off the labor, culture, and suffering of others and it trembles at the thought of equity. So, it clutches tighter. It turns to violence. It hides behind laws and badges and refuses to weep.

But we who follow Christ must weep.

We must grieve the families being ripped apart. We must grieve the moral failure of our churches that remain silent. We must grieve our own complicity.

And then, we must act.

To every pastor who preaches patriotism over the Gospel, I say: read the Beatitudes again.

To every white Christian who loves Jesus but stays silent: remember, neutrality is not peace. It is compliance.

Let us not be like the rich man in Jesus’ parable, who feasted while Lazarus starved at his gate (Luke 16:19–31). America is feasting and refugees are at the gate. Christ is at the gate. And we are failing Him.

Still, I believe in resurrection. I believe in justice born from holy discontent. I believe that we can yet become the nation we claimed to be, but only if we repent, dismantle, and reimagine.

As the prophet Amos thundered:

“Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” – Amos 5:24

Let us be that stream. Let us flood the dry places of cruelty with the waters of compassion, courage, and Gospel truth.

We are not helpless. We are called.

And until every child is safe, every migrant welcomed, and every brown body seen as beloved, we will not stop.