ICE, Politics, and Following Jesus
I want to ask you a question: What if the reason we can’t agree on what’s happening around us isn’t because one side is moral and the other isn’t—but because we’re using different moral lenses to see the world?
Jonathan Haidt’s work on moral foundations, which he lays out in The Righteous Mind, has been helpful for me in moments like this. He argues that we hold different moral values, which leads us to weigh situations differently. For instance, conservatives tend to emphasize values like authority, order, and rule of law. Liberals, on the other hand, tend to emphasize compassion, care, and protection from harm. When a political issue flares up, both sides often believe they hold the moral high ground, when in reality they are interpreting the same situation through different frameworks.
This moral matrix helps me understand the very different responses we’re seeing in the current conversations about ICE operating here in Minnesota.
Many conservatives are viewing this through the lens of authority: laws exist, laws are broken, and the government has the responsibility to enforce them. From that perspective, ICE activity is not only justified—it’s necessary. Many liberals, on the other hand, are viewing this through the lens of compassion: entire communities are living in fear, families are anxious, and people who have done nothing wrong feel targeted simply because of who they are or where they’re from. From that perspective, something is deeply wrong.
Both sides are making moral judgments. Both believe they are right. And both are, at least in part, talking past each other. Part of having an actual discussion is taking time to understand the other person’s position. Too often, we are busy forming our next point or waiting for a gotcha moment, and we miss what the other person is actually saying—let alone respecting them enough to truly understand their concerns. This is why our political discussions so often feel more like debates than conversations.
But here’s where this becomes more than a theoretical discussion for me.
Recently, I attended an event with the Burmese church we partner with. At one point, several people showed us their passports and immigration documents—papers they are now carrying with them at all times. These are men and women who are here legally, many of whom have gone through the long process of becoming citizens. And yet they are genuinely afraid that if they are stopped without documentation on hand, they could be detained or taken away.
This isn’t an abstract policy debate. These are real people. Neighbors. Brothers and sisters in Christ. People who are innocent of any wrongdoing, living with a constant, low-level fear that shapes how they move through daily life.
So what are we, as followers of Jesus, supposed to do?
First, we need to remember that while we are citizens of a country, we are not required to baptize every action of the government. Supporting law and order does not mean suspending discernment. Scripture reminds us that our ultimate loyalty lies elsewhere: “Our citizenship is in heaven” (Philippians 3:20). Conservatives, especially, would do well to apply the same healthy suspicion to ICE operations that they often apply to other federal agencies—whether it’s the Department of Education, the FDA, or public health authorities during COVID. Questioning how power is exercised is not rebellion; it’s wisdom. At the same time, liberals need to acknowledge the real and often unsustainable costs of immigration, burdens that taxpayers feel deeply at a time when many are already financially strained.
Second, we must take seriously the biblical mandate to love our neighbor. Scripture is uncomfortably clear on this point. God’s people are repeatedly called to care for the foreigner, the sojourner, and the vulnerable—not because of their legal status, but because of God’s character. “The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself” (Leviticus 19:34). We may have limited influence over what the government does, but we have tremendous influence over how we treat the immigrant and refugee who lives next door. Whether someone is here legally or not, our calling remains the same: love them, help them, and show them Jesus.
Third, we pray. Not as a last resort, but as an act of allegiance. We pray for wisdom as we navigate turbulent political waters. We pray for guidance in how to love faithfully and courageously. We pray for understanding—of our neighbors, of our own blind spots, and of where God is calling us to stand and act.
As Christians, we cannot afford to be swept along by the political winds of our culture. When our instincts, reactions, and talking points sound indistinguishable from Republicans or Democrats, something has gone wrong. Our primary citizenship is not red or blue—it is rooted in our allegiance to King Jesus and being citizens of the Kingdom of God.
That allegiance must shape how we see, how we speak, and how we love. And in moments like this, it may mean refusing the false choice between authority and compassion, choosing instead the narrow and demanding way of Jesus.
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