There is an adage in the world of writers to “write what you know.” This practice has served me well over the years as I write about faith, family, ecclesiastical issues and musings from my lived experience. But writing what I know is hard right now. 

I don’t know a world where armed ICE agents swarm my local neighborhoods, schools, hospitals and Target. I don’t know a justification for profiling black and brown people who don’t “look American,” let alone throwing them to the ground and hauling them away like they are animals if they can’t produce proof of legal status. I don’t know how to watch armed agents tackle nonviolent protestors, shatter their car windows, pepper spray them in the face or shove them into moving traffic. I don’t know how my government calls these tactics self defense.

I don’t know how anyone, from any political party, can be ok with this. 

When an agent shot Renee Good, my mind did what minds do. It searched for meaning in the familiar paradigms and patterns that help us make sense of the world. As someone inclined to give law enforcement the benefit of the doubt, I attempted to understand if the shooting was justified. Was she trying to run the agent over? Was she armed? Assigning villains and heroes to a story is only natural. So I read accounts and analysis from multiple angles, trying to make sense of it all. But the evidence convinced me that this was nonsensical. And my daughter said it best when she said, “Mom, they are trying to tell us we aren’t seeing what we are seeing.”

Still, I stayed quiet. I don’t believe everyone needs to offer a hot take on whatever events are unfolding. I avoid contributing to political rhetoric or making pithy quips on social media. I try to follow the guidance of James 1:19, “My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” Recognizing my limited experience in matters of immigration law, I read commentary from multiple sources. And I waited, wanting to see if time would bring clarity. But it hasn’t. If anything, it makes what I am witnessing feel farther from that I know. 

The more I watch, listen and learn, my conviction is that to remain silent may imply apathy about what is happening. Or worse, silence could imply affirmation. I was slow to be angry. But anger in this case seems justified in light of what is unfolding. I was slow to speak. But there is another biblical principle compelling me to write. 

“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.” Proverbs 31:8-9 (NIV)

What is happening is wrong. It is dystopian. And it is un-American. I can’t call it anything else. It has to stop. And my fellow believers should be the first to say so. 

What is unfolding should unsettle all of us. 

We don’t need to map political commentary onto what is clearly seen with our own eyes. The footage speaks for itself. We see a restaurant employee screaming for help while being dragged from a storage unit and slammed to the ground for the crime of showing up for work. We see repeated instances of individuals of color tackled, kicked, body slammed and beaten by armed agents. We see someone being pinned to the ground by multiple agents and repeatedly kneed in the face. We see a mother being dragged from her car in the school pickup line. We see infants and children taken to the hospital after being tear gassed. We see people having their windows smashed, being dragged from vehicles, and sprayed in the face for peaceful resistance. We see agents demanding a protester put their hands in their pockets then spraying them in the face after they comply. And we all saw Renee Good shot dead.

Aside from the videos, I have friends describing the presence of armed agents in their neighborhoods. My hospital colleagues have shared how they have cared for individuals beaten by ICE. My daughter came to me with fear in her eyes after learning a coworker was taken. My son has had two coworkers taken. My husband has described how this is affecting schools with families not sending their kids and how his team needs to make safety plans for kids with disabilities, all while guiding terrified teachers and staff in his buildings. And I have to worry that he could get attacked, hauled to detention or shot if he resists in any way.

These are legal residents. Concerned citizens. Neighbors. Friends. Kids. Babies.

No narratives or media spin can justify what is happening. Unprecedented actions against innocent people are unfolding right in front of our faces. We cannot justify it under any political agenda. 

It is disturbing for me, as a Christian, when sentiments such as, “well, if they were here legally they would have no issues,” are offered to waive away the brutality. For one, it is not true because plenty of citizens and legal residents are being apprehended. But mostly, I can’t understand how this sentiment squares with anyone claiming to follow the tenets of Jesus and believes that all humans are created in the image of God. We raise money and go on mission trips to serve vulnerable populations in countries where many of our immigrant neighbors were born. We applaud efforts to evangelize and smuggle Bibles into closed countries illegally and pray for undercover churches. I have personally been part of medical teams that snuck medications into countries where this is not allowed, armed with cash to pay off customs agents if caught. 

Is the US sacred ground where someone’s legal status must be established before we determine if they are worthy of our concern? Is our compassion and care for the vulnerable suspended on US soil?

After years spent working in urban ministry, I can tell you that people prefer to keep the messy business of caring for the least of these far far from their everyday lives. But the world has a way of forcing us to confront our own comfort and biases. So now we have to ask if our theology about mercy, justice and compassion applies at home.

Would Jesus nod in approval while agents throw an immigrant to the ground and drag them away? Would he offer justification based on their legal status or debate whether they should have been here? Or would he humbly serve and offer comfort, compassion and assistance to those who are defenseless. Should we do less?

“Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked.” Psalm 82:3-4 (ESV)

Here is what I do know. The world doesn’t need more rhetoric. It doesn’t need blind loyalty to politicians. It surely doesn’t need hot takes on social media. The world does need us to seek peace and pursue it. It needs us to speak up for the vulnerable. It needs us to be salt and light in dark places and join in efforts to help with our finances, time and talents. It needs us to pray. And it needs us to care.