I keep thinking this morning of those who will be afraid to gather to worship today in their church homes. In a place that used to advertise religious freedom, my Christian brothers and sisters are afraid to worship this morning. Now true, no one has specifically told me that this morning. I don’t really have to be told that to know. It’s common sense. We’ve spent months watching people be snatched off the street, out of churches, daycares, schools, courtrooms. We’ve seen local political officials and clergy try to stop it and get assaulted and arrested.
This is a foreign America to me, and not because of immigrants. Immigrants have been America since we invaded it. And so, maybe I shouldn’t be shocked by the cruelty. It was always more about conquering and less about freedom from the very beginning. Freedom for me but not for thee is more the true theme we were built upon. But I still believe in better. It makes me grateful my allegiance is to Christ first. It supersedes my patriotism, my Southern pride, my familial pride. When in doubt, I can turn to the Gospel and the words of Christ. I can trace my fingers across the Bible verses that tell me how to live, who to trust, how to treat my neighbor. I can cry to the Holy Spirit to fall fresh on me. To show me the way.
My heart aches today for former classmates, peers, colleagues, people I’ve supported. For former students and for my children’s friends and classmates. For every person around me afraid because the tint of their skin and their family heritage and the lilt of their accent.
We know the forces are indiscriminate in their attacks as they have snatched US citizens, US Veterans, and innocent civilians with no record of illegal action or association. What we were told was “only targeting criminals” has come out as absolute lies. Some of these people have died or disappeared. Children ripped from their loved ones. Senseless trauma, chaos, heartache. People have been taken in the midst of doing what is right and good – like going to immigration court to “do it the right way”.
And this isn’t about immigration laws or border control or drug cartels or any of that. If you don’t find the current and recent actions ICE egregious, I beg you to put yourself and your loved ones in the shoes of your neighbors. And they ARE your neighbors. Even if you don’t know them or don’t like them.
I don’t ache because I’m tender hearted. I ache with holy grief, holy anger. Evil is right before us, and too many of us refuse to acknowledge it and instead embrace it and let it twist us. And yes, it’s been here a long time. It just keeps getting worse.
No one should be proud of cruelty or chaos or fear. That is not the reflection of good leadership. To rejoice in those things is to rejoice in the darkness. To be turned against the gospel by government propaganda is to fall into the arms of the enemy.
We can want secure borders and controlled immigration and drugs off the streets and gang violence thwarted and still denounce the current actions.
When our hearts are tuned to Christ, to Heaven, to the Gospel, we know what is asked of us. To walk humbly, to love mercy, and to act justly. Justice is not cruelty. Mercy does not induce fear. Humility doesn’t trample those in need.
Honor is earned, not given because someone has a title or a uniform. Only in doing their job with integrity and dignity do they earn honor and respect.
Some of those that work forces, are the same that burn crosses
Rage Against The Machine
We should be holding those in positions of power accountable. We saw Christ do this. We are called to do the work of the Gospel our entire life. We don’t give up. We don’t shrug our shoulders and say “that’s just the way it is”. We live our lives in a way that reflects Christ. We call up one another to dust off our weariness and press on. We do not grow weary in doing good. We believe in the promise of reaping what we sow. We run the race before us. We lean on one another and we reach out our hands to those around us who need hope and light and the promise of something better.
We keep our arms open even when the society around us closes theirs, when it’s not popular or logical. When it puts us at risk.
And that’s the hardest part for me. I hesitate to share writing like this because of negative feedback I may get. That I may be dismissed, misunderstood, or argued with. How pathetic really, that I fear a little personal rejection when I am writing about people being kidnapped off the streets and afraid to go to church today. That I seek to encourage Christians to act Christ-like when I myself would rather “hide it under a bushel”.
No, I’m gonna let it shine.
