A Pastoral Letter About Minnesota
[An audio version of this letter can be found on Spotify or Apple Podcasts]
Like many of you, I have been deeply troubled by the recent events in Minnesota, and what feels like ever-escalating tensions between Immigrations and Customs Enforcement (ICE), protesters, and the citizens of that state. When news cameras and social media are added to the mix, and it seems that everyone is commenting on it, it can feel overwhelming and may stir up one’s anxiety. No matter what you think about these issues, were this kind of mayhem happening in the streets of Tulsa—where we and our children live, work, and play—it would be highly disturbing and disruptive. Even though we’re not there, so many of us have been traumatized from afar by seeing videos of graphic violence in the Twin Cities. And then we scroll on and see an article about the latest fashion trends or a review of a TV show; are supposed to pretend we didn’t just see a life end or a family torn apart?
I often struggle, in moments like these, to know whether I ought to speak up. Were I to let troubling current events set the agenda for what I say or draw attention to, I would have little time for anything else. However, as I shared a few weeks ago, I have a responsibility for the critical task of theology, which is to help us name and discern what is wrong. But even more so, I have a responsibility to do the constructive task of theology, which is to explore, teach, and foment the things that are right.
Because this moment feels like one in which everyone’s attention is on Minnesota, and because there have been several meaningfully escalating events (such as the disruption of a Sunday morning worship service by protesters at Cities Church in St. Paul, as well as the deaths of Renee Nicole Good and Alex Pretti), I feel the need to make a few comments. As I shared after the death of Charlie Kirk, my angle in speaking up is neither as a Republican nor a Democrat. When Joshua asked the angel of the Lord, “Are you for us or for our enemies?” the angel of the Lord replied, “Neither.” In a similar manner, I am not speaking up as a partisan, but as a citizen of the Kingdom of God who wants to call followers of Jesus to subvert the binary categories of right vs left, conservative vs progressive, Republican vs Democrat, and ask us to consider, “What does the way of faithfulness look like right now?” My hope is to help us de-escalate in a moment of high tension and pause to discern the activity of Christ and his Kingdom among us.
When I think about the work of ICE, I acknowledge that the protection and enforcement of borders (which may ultimately include the arrest and deportation of those who have entered the country illegally) is a legitimate function of government.
I also acknowledge that dissent, critique, and protest is a legitimate right of the populous, especially in moments where there is fear or suspicion of government overreach or deliberate provocation of the masses. To adapt a quote from Martin Luther King, Jr. “A protest is the language of the unheard.”
Some on the political right, feeling unheard and disempowered, invaded the US Capitol on January 6, 2021. And now, some on the political left, feeling unheard and disempowered, invaded the worship service of a church on January 18, 2026, where the acting Director of the St. Paul ICE field office was said to serve as a pastor.
I cannot control government action, protestor behavior, or your own thoughts and actions, but I do want to lead us to ask, How do we think this eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, ever-escalating and never-capitulating style of political rhetoric and engagement is going? How do we feel that framing all political discourse as us vs them, light vs dark, and good vs evil is working out for society? For many years, and beyond this current moment, we can see that both sides are operating according to the same rules and same playbook; they’re just on opposite sides of the line of scrimmage.
When I read the New Testament, I see that primitive Christianity was cultivated in an environment that was unfriendly politically to the community of faith. And there was a breadth of responses to this reality. The Pharisees thought that being hyper-religious and scrupulous in their obedience would win over God’s affection and that would change the balance of power. The Sadducees compromised with their political overlords to secure their own positions of influence. The Essenes withdrew from society in hopes of preserving a pure remnant who could take over after the Apocalypse. And the Zealots, like Simon, were ready to draw swords and instigate a revolution.
Many wondered which camp Jesus was going to fall into. And so, when he was asked about paying taxes, and whether a faithful person should, they were surprised by his reply: “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s” (Mk. 2:17). He subverted the categories.
And when Paul was directing young pastor Timothy to consider how to engage with the state, he gave him this instruction: “I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people— for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. This is good and pleases God our Savior” (1 Tim 2:1-2, emphasis added).
In both cases, the options of succumbing to the state or overthrowing the state were subverted. The major thrust here is that no matter what the state does, we do our thing, in our way, and refuse to compromise on living out, to the best of our ability, a Jesus-shaped life.
There is a legitimate way for Christ-followers to engage in public discourse, participate in democratic processes, and use one’s power to effect change. But we have to do so in a way that is appropriate for citizens of the Kingdom of God.
Let’s imagine that you’re a Jesus-follower who is sympathetic to the rule of law and understands that illegal entry into a country means you could be deported from it. While maintaining that perspective, can you not also recognize that arrests with excessive force, the separation of families, and dehumanizing rhetoric about illegal immigrants is an affront to the dignity of persons made in the image of God? What would it look like for you, as a follower of Jesus who is sympathetic to that perspective, to use your voice to advocate for the rule of law while contending for the humane and dignified treatment of persons? Furthermore, what would it look like for you to use your voice to speak up for the protection of those who have immigrated legally, but whose status is casually being threatened by persons in power?
Or imagine you’re a follower of Jesus who finds yourself more sympathetic to the plight of those who immigrate illegally and are sensitive to the conditions that prompt them to make the dangerous and expensive move of coming to the United States. While maintaining that perspective, can you not also recognize that a nation can only function effectively if there is an orderly and consistent protocol that directs our common life, something like the rule of law? What would it look like for you, as a follower of Jesus, to advocate in myriad ways for immigrants to move toward legal residence in this country? Could you volunteer your time or share some of your resources to help expedite what is a very arduous and expensive process?
Here’s why a Christian doing something like I mentioned here would matter: It would demonstrate that you’re listening to the concerns of ‘the other side’ and are able to respect the legitimate values for which they’re advocating. And it’s precisely because the ‘other side’ feels unheard that they’re ramping up rhetoric and settling into their trenches for more political warfare. As Brad Pitt’s character in the movie Moneyball said: “I hate losing more than I like winning, and there’s a difference.” This is how many feel about political engagement; they want the other side to lose even more than they want their side to win. This is not right. What we should advocate for is a just and peaceful society, which would be a win for all of us.
Now some will certainly object and say that what I’m advocating for is impractical, that it won’t work. But Jesus didn’t teach the Sermon on the Mount because he thought it would be practical in fundamentally altering the status quo; he taught it because it was the right and best and most beautiful and most liberating way to be a person. And while, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, the Sermon on the Mount could crush the individual, it could give life to a community. If every Jesus-follower you know stopped screaming into the wind about this-or-that political issue, and instead asked the more creative question, “What are all the ways the Lord Jesus could be inviting me to embody the good in this cultural moment?” Then I have to think it actually would make some difference. And even if it didn’t, it would be right.
So, what else could you reasonably do as a follower of Jesus who wants to represent God’s Kingdom in moments of upheaval?
You can pray. Write prayers of lament. Mourn, grieve, name, and feel the wrong; ask God to do something about it. Intercede. Plead with God to bear his arm and bring his kingdom to earth. You could also pray more aggressively. My friend and colleague in C4SO, David Taylor, has written a guide on how to write an imprecatory psalm. These are the kinds of prayers you deploy when you’re downright incensed, and the Scriptures give us a way to direct that energy.
What else can you do? You can deliberately listen to people who come from a different perspective and consider, “What are they right about that I’m disinclined to acknowledge because of my desire to win?” And then, in humility, seriously consider and even integrate what they have to say.
I think Christ-followers can participate in the democratic process. I have called our elected representatives on many occasions to voice my perspective. If I’m honest, I don’t think they’re paying attention to the Facebook posts or Instagram stories where we air our grievances. So, if you want your perspective to be considered, give them a call. And when you do – or when you write a letter – don’t be a jerk. Be a Christ-follower in how you correspond. Don’t other. Don’t name call. Don’t scream.
I even think there can be opportunities for peaceful resistance, and each of us will have to discern with the Spirit’s help how and when we take that route. During the People Power Revolution of the 1980s in the Philippines, Catholic nuns and priests placed themselves between soldiers and protesters and prayed and sang hymns. They were notably light-hearted and made the violence and intensity of both sides look foolish rather than heroic. They disrupted the mood that teetered on the edge of violence without mirroring it and merely adding to the noise.
And that is precisely what we must not do. We must not mirror the vitriol of others, nor add to the noise through our public engagement. We must not virtue signal. Everywhere we go and in everything we do, we must actively, creatively, strive to embody goodness as we are empowered by the Holy Spirit. Not chasing or picking fights unnecessarily, not stoking the fires of political enmity just because we can, but striving to be content with living peaceful, quiet lives, in all godliness and holiness, knowing that this is good and pleases God our Savior.
Ryan Burge has published a new book called The Vanishing Church: How the Hollowing Out of Moderate Congregations Is Hurting Democracy, Faith, and Us. Full disclosure: I’ve not read it yet. But I’ve read enough articles to unpack the main idea that churches in the United States are largely homogenizing according to political persuasion. There are red churches and there are blue churches. There are few churches where people acknowledge in media veritas—the truth is in the middle.
Our church—along with many other Anglican churches— happens to be a congregation where people of diverse political perspectives find safe shelter. Let’s keep it safe. Let’s listen respectfully. Let’s acknowledge where we’re wrong. Let’s acknowledge where others are right. Politics can be an unbelievably divisive topic, and I’d largely encourage us not to delve into those waters willy-nilly. Let’s chiefly encourage and remind one another of the words of Jesus and let those become our marching orders. Let’s behave—in person and online—in such a way that we won’t have difficulty looking one another in the eye when we say, ‘This is the body of Christ given for you; this is the blood of Christ shed for you.” Let’s deliberately defy unnecessary either-or’s, and seek the less traveled third way. In the words of Bp Lesslie Newbiggin: "Live in the kingdom of God in such a way that it provokes questions for which the gospel is the answer."
jon+
1/28/26