29 Jan 2026

When Power Forgets the Sanctity of Life

Responding as Followers of Jesus to the Minnesota Immigration Enforcement and Its Moral Costs

This is one of those moments when following Jesus requires us to slow down and ask harder questions than our politics would prefer.

Federal immigration enforcement has intensified.
Protests have spread.
Civilians have been killed by federal agents.

Investigations are ongoing. Narratives are competing. Trust is eroding.

Since the tragic climax of the Minnesota enforcement last weekend, I’ve wrestled with how we as believers are meant to face this.

Two issues. One moment.

Two serious issues are unfolding at the same time.

One is immigration.

The other forces us to reckon with how authority is being operationalized, especially when power moves faster than accountability.

These issues are connected, but they are not identical.

If we collapse them into a single argument, we lose clarity.
If we reduce them to partisan sound bites, we lose credibility.

What’s required of us right now is not reaction, but discernment.

This is not merely a political moment.
For believers, it is a discipleship moment.

How we respond will either strengthen our witness or quietly undermine it.

The sanctity of life is not selective

At the heart of Christian faith is a conviction we confess easily and live out inconsistently.

Human life is sacred because it belongs to God.

That includes the unborn and the elderly. That includes the lives of Alex Pretti and Renée Good. That includes the undocumented immigrants arrested and deported.

Every life is sacred.

Not because it is productive.
Not because it is legal.
Not because it is convenient or compliant.

From the earliest days of the Church, this conviction shaped Christian ethics.

Long before Christianity held power, Christians opposed:

infanticide
the killing of unborn children
the discarding of the elderly
the dehumanization of the poor and the foreigner

They resisted these practices not because they were politically fashionable, but because they believed life was entrusted by God and therefore not disposable.

That matters now.

If we affirm the sanctity of life, we cannot do so only when it costs us nothing.

Life does not become less sacred when a child is inconvenient in the womb.
It does not become less sacred when a person is undocumented.
It does not become less sacred when someone is elderly, frail, or no longer economically useful.
And it does not become disposable when someone is protesting, resisting, or standing in the way of power.

Any vision of sanctity of life that depends on status, usefulness, or compliance has already departed from the way of Jesus.

The early church understood that following a crucified Messiah required a consistent ethic of life.

They knew what happens when the state decides whose lives are worth protecting and whose can be sacrificed in the name of order.

Immigration and the law (briefly)

I’ve written elsewhere, at length, about immigration, Scripture, and the law. I won’t rehash all of that here. Links are provided at the end for those who want to go deeper.

What matters for this moment is this:

As Christians, we believe the law should be respected and upheld.
We also believe the law must be moral, just, and accountable.

Scripture never equates legality with righteousness.

Government authority is real, but it is not absolute.

When laws or their enforcement:

degrade human dignity
produce fear as a governing tool
treat entire groups of people as problems to be managed rather than neighbors to be protected

The Church has both the right and the responsibility to speak.

The biblical witness consistently centers the foreigner, the sojourner, and the refugee.

Not sentimentally.
Theologically.

Jesus himself enters the story as a refugee.

Compassion is not a political posture for the Church.
It is a gospel obligation.

That does not remove complexity.
It establishes posture.

Power, enforcement, and the limits of authority

Alongside immigration policy is a second issue we must not ignore: how power is exercised.

This is not only about isolated uses of force.

It is about:

the posture of authority
the way enforcement happens
the language used
the willingness to dehumanize
the speed with which violence is excused
the ease with which civilian deaths are rationalized

Christians can affirm the need for order.
We can affirm the rule of law.

And still insist that power must be restrained by justice, truth, and reverence for life.

The early Christians were deeply cautious about state power.

Not because they rejected authority, but because they understood how easily authority becomes detached from moral accountability.

They believed killing does not become morally neutral simply because it is legal.

Justice, in their view, was not about preserving order at any cost, but about protecting life and restraining power.

When enforcement relies on fear.
When dissent is treated as a threat rather than a signal.
When people are reduced to obstacles instead of image-bearers.

Christians are not called to rush to defense.

We are called to pause.
To grieve.
To tell the truth.
To insist that life remains sacred even when it is inconvenient to those in charge.

Justice that forgets mercy is not justice.
It is power with better branding.

A word we need to hear ourselves

This is where we need to speak honestly as believers, especially those of us who consider ourselves conservatives.

We need to reckon with the damage done to our witness when:

we grow comfortable with violence
we become suspicious of foreigners
we excuse dehumanization because it promises order
we repeat political narratives without discernment

This is not a problem “out there.”

It is a formation issue in us.

Scripture does not soften its language about truth.

Bearing false witness is not a minor misstep.
Truth is not optional.
It is not suspended during moments of political stress.
We do not get a discipleship pass because the stakes feel high.

When believers repeat misleading claims, dismiss suffering as collateral damage, or justify cruelty in the name of stability, something has gone wrong.

Not politically.
Spiritually.

Empires have always relied on distorted narratives to maintain control.
The Church has always relied on truth to remain faithful.

When loyalty to a narrative matters more than fidelity to truth, we are no longer bearing witness to Christ.

We are bearing witness to power.

And people can tell.

This is one of the reasons so many have grown disillusioned with the Church.

Not because the gospel is too demanding, but because it appears inconsistently applied.

They are not rejecting Jesus.
They are rejecting what looks like selective morality and convenient silence.

This is not about being conservative or progressive.
It is about being truthful.

Grace and truth do not compete.
They reinforce each other.

Jesus never sacrificed truth to protect comfort.
And he never sacrificed compassion to win an argument.

So what now?

Faithfulness will not look the same for everyone.

But it will move in recognizable directions.

It will begin with prayer.

Not as a way to avoid action, but as a way to re-center our allegiance.

Prayer that names grief.
Prayer that resists fear.
Prayer that asks God to purify our loves and sharpen our courage.

Some will choose to participate in peaceful protests or demonstrations.
That is a legitimate expression of moral concern in a democratic society, especially when life and dignity are at stake.

Some will contact their democratically elected leaders and call for humane immigration laws and just enforcement.
That is not partisan activism.
It is civic responsibility shaped by Christian conviction.

Churches will need to slow their people down.
Help them think theologically.
Encourage discernment over outrage.
Truth over speed.
Lament before commentary.

We will need to refuse the temptation to dehumanize anyone.
Immigrants.
Protesters.
Officers.
Neighbors we disagree with.

And we will need to decide, again, who is discipling us.

The Church does not exist to stabilize the narratives of power.

We exist to bear witness to a kingdom shaped by a crucified and risen Lord.

A kingdom where life is sacred.
Where truth matters.
Where authority is always accountable to love.

If we lean into that now, the gospel will still sound like good news.