This is a moment that demands lament.
Across our nation, families and communities are grieving lives lost in the wake of immigration enforcement. We name with sorrow and righteous indignation the deaths connected to ICE actions—deaths that have torn families apart, traumatized communities, and violated the dignity of those made in God’s image. These are not political abstractions. They are human lives, beloved by God.
At our recent Leadership Retreat, our Communications Specialist, Mark Bennett, offered words that have stayed with me: “I cannot but hope.” His words land precisely where many of us find ourselves—echoing the psalmist’s cry, “Why are you cast down, O my soul? Hope in God.” These words are not spoken to contradict or dismiss the anger, grief, or pain of this moment. Rather, they are words of comfort that name where we ultimately arrive emotionally and spiritually when the weight of injustice presses in.
Lament is not a denial of reality; it is truth-telling before God. Scripture gives us language for both grief and protest. Jesus wept. The prophets raged. The psalms cry out, “How long, O Lord?” As the church, we refuse to normalize violence, fear, or death as the cost of political systems. We grieve the harm done to immigrant communities, and we grieve a nation increasingly numb to suffering at its margins.
Our 2026 Synod theme—Becoming What God Is Calling Forth—asks us who we are becoming in this moment of moral testing. God is calling forth a church that does not look away, that names evil clearly, and that allows righteous indignation to sharpen our faith rather than harden our hearts.
Richard Rohr reminds us that “evil depends on a good disguise.” If the perspectives of the majority of U.S. citizens who can vote, speak, and advocate do not change, then there is little hope for the country we love. Evil flourishes when it is hidden, normalized, or excused. Faith calls us to unmask it.
Rohr further writes that God is a “Great Allower” who seldom controls the show in this world. Jesus himself says that “the ruler of this world” has power for a time, yet that power is already exposed and condemned (John 14:30; 16:11). The kingdom Jesus proclaims is the world as it would be if God fully ruled—always coming, never fully here. This is why faith, trust, and perseverance are required. Hope is not naïveté; it is spiritual discipline.
Becoming what God is calling forth requires embodied action:
- Naming lament publicly in worship and prayer, refusing silence in the face of injustice.
- Standing in accompaniment with immigrant neighbors and congregations harmed by enforcement actions.
- Educating and equipping communities with accurate information, partnerships, and resources.
- Advocating lawfully and persistently for humane policies that protect life, dignity, and due process.
- Supporting ministries of mercy and justice, including legal aid, immigrant-led organizations, and sanctuary efforts.
- Examining our own hearts and practices, ensuring our churches are places of welcome rather than fear.
For those seeking deeper theological grounding in this moment, I commend Richard Rohr’s books What Do We Do With Evil?and The Naked Now. Both offer wisdom for understanding the times we are living in and for remaining spiritually awake without surrendering to despair.
We cannot deny the pain of this moment. We cannot excuse the harm being done. And yet—rooted in faith—we cannot but hope. Not because the world gives us reason, but because God is still calling something forth among us.
May we have the courage to lament honestly, the clarity to name evil without disguise, and the faith to become—together—what God is calling forth.
Rev. Dr. SanDawna Gaulman Ashley
Synod Leader
