The Wilderness We're In
Minnesota is living through something that should be unthinkable: federal agents conducting immigration raids in our communities, our workplaces, our neighborhoods. ICE OUT MN wasn't just a protest—it was a collective exhale of grief and rage, a public naming of what many of us have been feeling privately:
this isn't who we are supposed to be.
And if you're a Christian woman watching this unfold, you might be feeling something even deeper: a theological crisis. Because the Jesus you know—the one who said "I was a stranger and you welcomed me"—doesn't square with what's happening in our state right now.
So let's talk about what Scripture actually says. Not the weaponized, selective verses used to defend borders and enforcement. The whole counsel of God. The red letters. The prophets who got themselves killed for saying what made the powerful uncomfortable.
What the Bible Actually Says About the Stranger
Let me be blunt: the Bible is not ambiguous about immigrants.
It doesn't hedge. It doesn't equivocate. It doesn't add asterisks about "legal vs. illegal." It commands—over and over and over—that God's people welcome, protect, and love the foreigner among them.
Here's a sample:
"When a stranger sojourns with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong. You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God."
— Leviticus 19:33-34
"The Lord watches over the sojourners; he upholds the widow and the fatherless."
— Psalm 146:9
"Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares."
— Hebrews 13:2
"I was a stranger and you welcomed me."
— Matthew 25:35
The word used throughout the Old Testament—ger—refers to a foreigner, a sojourner, someone living outside their homeland. And the Israelites were commanded to remember what it felt like to be that person. To be vulnerable. To be without power. To be afraid.
God doesn't just suggest compassion. He commands it. Repeatedly. Emphatically. Without qualification.
And when Jesus shows up, he doesn't soften this. He intensifies it. He tells his followers that how we treat the most vulnerable among us is how we treat Him.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
The Untamed Truth: Fear Is a Weapon
Here's what I want to say clearly, because the church has been too quiet on this:
Fear is being used as a weapon in Minnesota right now.
Fear that if you speak up, you'll be labeled. Fear that if you help, you'll be implicated. Fear that solidarity will cost you something.
And that fear? It's working exactly as intended.
Because when fear takes root, we stop seeing people and start seeing problems. We stop asking "who is my neighbor?" and start asking "what are the rules?" We trade the radical hospitality of the Gospel for the cold calculus of self-protection.
But here's the thing about following Jesus: He never promised it would be safe.
He promised it would be true. He promised it would be costly. He promised that the last would be first and the first would be last, that the Kingdom belongs to the poor in spirit, that those who hunger and thirst for righteousness would be filled.
He did not promise comfort. Or convenience. Or the approval of the state.
What We Do Now
So what does faithfulness look like in Minnesota, January 2025?
It looks like presence. Showing up when you can. Sitting in when you're able. Saying their names. Naming what's happening as wrong.
It looks like resistance. Refusing to participate in a system designed to dehumanize. Choosing not to spend on a day of collective mourning and action. Using your voice, your vote, your dollars, your platform.
It looks like protection. Knowing your rights. Learning what "sanctuary" means in your city. Asking your church if they're prepared to live out what they say they believe.
It looks like repentance. Acknowledging where we've been complicit. Where we've stayed quiet. Where we've chosen comfort over courage.
And it looks like hope. Not the cheap kind that pretends everything is fine. The defiant kind. The kind that refuses to let fear have the last word.
For the Women Who Feel Caught
If you're reading this and you feel stuck—maybe you couldn't attend the protests, maybe your job or family situation made it impossible, maybe you're just exhausted and overwhelmed—I want you to hear this:
Faithfulness doesn't always look like the front lines.
Sometimes it looks like:
- Having hard conversations with people you love
- Teaching your children what the Bible actually says about immigrants
- Supporting organizations doing the work when you can't
- Refusing to be silent when someone makes a dehumanizing comment
- Praying—not the vague, avoidant kind, but the intercession that costs you something
You don't have to do everything. But you can't do nothing.
Because this moment is a test. Not of your politics. Of your faith.
The Untamed Gospel in Action
The Gospel is not tame. It never has been.
It got Jesus killed. It got the prophets killed. It got early Christians thrown to lions and burned as torches.
And it got that way because it names power and chooses the powerless. Because it flips every human hierarchy on its head. Because it says the Kingdom of God looks nothing like the kingdoms of this world.
So when we see immigrants being hunted in our state—families separated, children terrified, communities shattered—we don't get to shrug and say "it's complicated."
It's not.
The Bible is clear. Jesus is clear. The question is whether we'll be obedient.
A Prayer for Minnesota
God,
We are scared. And we are angry. And we don't know how to hold both at once.
Give us courage when we want to hide.
Give us clarity when the world tries to confuse us.
Give us endurance when this fight feels too long.
Give us holy rage at the things that break your heart.
Help us see You in the faces of our immigrant neighbors.
Help us hear You in their fear, their grief, their resilience.
Help us love the way You love—recklessly, costly, without condition.
Make us untamed. Make us faithful. Make us brave.
Amen.
Where Do We Go From Here?
ICE OUT MN was one day. This fight is longer.
Stay awake.
Stay angry—the righteous kind.
Stay soft—the kind that refuses to let fear harden you into someone you don't recognize.
And when you're tempted to look away, remember:
Jesus didn't say, "I was a stranger and you checked my documentation."
He said, "I was a stranger and you welcomed me."
That's the standard. Not laws. Not politics. Not fear.
Just Jesus. And what He actually said.
So let's live like we believe it.
For resources, ways to help, and how to support immigrant communities in Minnesota, visit the Immigrant Law Center. For a deeper theological study on immigration and the Bible, review Dying to Live in Yale Reflections and a new bible study, Called to Journey, Called to Welcome.
This is the untamed gospel. This is what faithfulness looks like when the world is on fire. Let's not waste this moment.
