Weary, But Not Silent!

It is difficult not to be carrying a heavy heart and a spirit that is both weary and burning these days. We are all tired—tired of waking up to news of another immigrant harmed, another family shattered, another life lost at the hands of ICE agents. I am tired of the violence, tired of the silence, tired of the excuses. As a Christian, as a Lutheran pastor, I follow the One who was himself a refugee and I cannot look away.

Renee Nicole Good––shot and killed by an ICE agent during a traffic stop in south Minneapolis on January 7, 2026. Renee was a neighbor, a beloved child of God, and her death has left a wound in her community that will not heal with time or platitudes.

Alex Jeffrey Pretti––a U.S. citizen and ICU nurse, killed by a Border Patrol agent on January 24, 2026. Alex was a healer, a friend, and a son. The official story of his death doesn’t match the pain we see in the eyes of those who loved him, nor the video evidence.

Julio Cesar Sosa-Celis––shot in the leg by an ICE agent during a so-called “targeted traffic stop.” Julio survived, but the trauma lingers.

Alberto Castañeda Mondragón––suffered a skull fracture and broken facial bones while in ICE custody. The official account strains belief; the suffering is all too real.

These are not just names. They are people––mothers, sons, neighbors, fiends. Their stories are sacred. Their pain is our pain. The violence we witness is not just a policy failure––it is a spiritual crisis, and scripture is clear:

“When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the native-born among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 19:33.34 NRSVUE).

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me […] Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the lease of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me” (Matthew 25:35,40 NRSVUE).

How many times must we hear these words before we let them change us? How many more must suffer before we act?

We are called to righteous anger––not the anger that destroys, but the anger that refuses to accept injustice as normal.

As Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. reminds us: “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.”

And Father Gustavo Gutiérrez:“The poor are a by-product of the system in which we live and for which we are responsible. The poverty of the poor is not a call to generous relief action, but a demand that we go and build a different social order.”

We cannot claim to be followers of Jesus and remain silent when our neighbors are targeted, brutalized, and killed. Our Christian faith is not a shield from the world’s pain; it is a call to enter into it, to stand with the oppressed, to demand justice.

The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, my denominational affiliation, has declared itself a sanctuary church. This is not just a slogan; it is a commitment to walk alongside immigrants and refugees, to offer shelter, legal support, and advocacy. We do this not because it is easy, but because it is what Jesus would do.

And our theology is clear: We are justified by grace, set free to love and serve our neighbor. We are called to prophetic witness, to speak truth to power, to embody the kingdom of God’s justice and mercy.

So what now? What do we do with our exhaustion? We turn it into action. We show up at the vigils and protests. We write letters and make phone calls. We open our churches and our homes. We demand accountability. We pray with our feet, our voices, and our votes.

As Dorothy Day said, “The Gospel takes away our right forever, to discriminate between the deserving and the undeserving poor.” Day’s words are a reminder to see the inherent dignity in every person, particularly immigrants, refugees, and the poor; her words are a call to act with love and justice without discrimination.

This is why we must remember every immigrant, every refugee, every person harmed by ICE is a beloved child of God. We must refuse to let their stories be forgotten. We must resist allowing our hearts to grow numb to these acts of injustice.

The exhaustion we are feeling is real, but we cannot allow it to silence us. We must keep naming the injustice, remembering the victims, and standing in the gap––because that is what love requires.

Yes, we are tired, but we are not defeated. We are angry, but we are not without hope. We are called for this moment––by scripture, by our faith tradition, by the Spirit of the living God––to stand with the stranger, to demand justice, and to build a world where every person is safe, welcome, and free.

“He has told you, O mortal, what is good, and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God.”

In the heart of Jesus,

Rev. Eric Thomas M. Randolph