Hope That Resists

Following Jesus in the face of fear and injustice

On February 10, 2025, Pope Francis wrote what would become his final letter to the U.S. bishops. As we mourn his recent passing, his words feel even more urgent.

In that letter, he didn’t speak as a policy critic. He spoke as a follower of Jesus, grounding his entire message in the Incarnation itself.

He reminded us that Jesus was a migrant. A refugee. A child fleeing state violence with Mary and Joseph. And from that starting point, he made a powerful theological claim:

“Jesus Christ, loving everyone with a universal love, educates us in the permanent recognition of the dignity of every human being, without exception… The most decisive value possessed by the human person surpasses and sustains every other juridical consideration that can be made to regulate life in society.” - Pope Francis

Human dignity comes first.
Not after we check someone’s paperwork.
Not after we run it past a political platform.
Not after we've calculated the risk or cost.

Pope Francis wasn’t just offering an opinion. He was issuing a theological challenge to all of us: laws must be judged in the light of human dignity, not the other way around.

That doesn’t mean he called for chaos. He affirmed: “This does not impede the development of a policy that regulates orderly and legal migration.”

Policy matters. Order matters. But he warned: “This development cannot come about through the privilege of some and the sacrifice of others.”

And then came his sobering conclusion:

“What is built on the basis of force, and not on the truth about the equal dignity of every human being, begins badly and will end badly.”

That was not just theology. It was a final call to conscience from a shepherd of the global Church.

Pope Leo XIV is following in those footsteps.

Because what’s happening in America right now is not normal. And it demands a response that is equally extraordinary: A Spirit-empowered uprising of love, truth, and justice.

A Spiritual Crisis Masquerading as a Political One

Even those not known for alarm, like political centrists, are raising deep concern. David Brooks, a moderate conservative, began a recent New York Times Op-Ed with these haunting words:

“In the beginning there was agony… the strong did what they willed and the weak suffered what they must.”

He goes on to say that the institutions built over centuries - courts, universities, newsrooms, scientific bodies - exist to restrain raw power and elevate the higher elements of the human spirit: compassion, justice, learning.

But Trumpism isn’t just attacking one thing here or another thing there. It is, in Brooks’ words, “a multifront assault to make the earth a playground for ruthless men.”

As followers of Jesus, we must not miss this moment. This is not business as usual. It’s a spiritual crisis masquerading as a political one.

Who Are You Standing With?

Let me ask you some personal questions:

Do you know a teacher?
A nurse?
An immigrant neighbor?
A national park employee?
Someone who works in research, science, or public health?
A public servant who quietly serves the common good?

Now imagine what would happen if someone in power, someone who sees truth-tellers as threats, starts labeling them enemies of the state.

That’s not just a theory. It’s the path we’re already on. And it’s why I believe this moment isn’t just political.

It’s a crisis of discipleship.

Because how we respond now determines what kind of people we’ll become, and whether we will remain a people where justice, truth, and love are still possible.

A Battle Not of Flesh and Blood

The Apostle Paul reminds us that our battle is not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities and powers, spiritual forces that twist truth and dehumanize.

Authoritarianism is one of those powers.

It doesn’t always arrive with violence. Sometimes it comes through executive orders, propaganda, or silence. It spreads not only through cruelty, but also through fear and indifference. And as it rises, the most vulnerable are the first to pay the price: immigrants quietly disappearing, civil servants fired for doing their jobs, neighbors afraid to speak up.

But we must ask: if due process is denied to them now, what happens when it is denied to you? To your friends? Your children?

This isn’t a hypothetical. It’s already happening.

In the remainder of this post, I want to focus on what we can do—because we are not helpless. We are a people of hope. And our hope is not grounded in mere optimism or positive thinking, but in the love of the Father, the faithfulness of the Son, and the power of the Holy Spirit.

Being a people of hope means living into God's future, here and now.

Jesus Faced These Powers Too

We are not the first to face this kind of moment. Jesus faced these Powers too.

In the wilderness, Jesus was offered domination over all the kingdoms of the world, if only he would bow. But he refused. He didn’t fight the Powers by becoming one of them. He chose the cross, not coercion. Love, not domination. Truth, not spin.

He is our model. And we need to depend upon the Holy Spirit to follow him.

Because the Powers are not just “out there.” They work through governments and systems, and also through us. They tempt us with control, safety, and self-righteousness. They invite us to fight fire with fire. To mirror our enemies. To demonize those we disagree with.

But Jesus shows us another way, a way of resistance that is faithful, not reactive.

What Is Faithful Resistance?

Faithful Resistance calls us to:

• Stay human in a dehumanizing age.

• Stand firm against injustice, without losing your soul.

• Tell the truth, without abandoning love.

• Center the people, not the Powers.

Follow Jesus all the way to the margins, and all the way to the cross, if needed. Because that’s where resurrection begins.

So, will we walk in the way of Christ, or in the way of the world?

The Way of the World vs. the Way of Christ

The way of the world honors dominance and noise. It rewards those who punch the hardest and the fastest. It calls fear “strength” and empathy “weakness.”

But Jesus shows us another way. He compares himself to a mother hen, longing to gather her children under her wings.

That’s not passivity. That’s protective love.

Faithful resistance doesn’t mean staying quiet or polite. Sometimes love must be loud.
Righteous anger is not a sin, it’s a signal. The question is whether we let it consume us, or compel us to act justly.

Faithful resistance means standing bold and unshakable. Speaking truth that disrupts lies. Centering the people, not the powerful.

And it means refusing to let Trump, or any idol of empire, be the main character in our story. The story is about the image-bearers we defend. The neighbors we love. The communities we dare to build. And at the center is not a politician or platform, but the living God who sets captives free.

Three Lines to Sum It Up:

• Speak the truth.

• Stand with the vulnerable.

• Follow Jesus to the margins.

How Do We Resist in the Way of Jesus?

1. Name and Unmask the Powers

Like William Stringfellow wrote decades ago, even a nation can become a principality when it demands our loyalty above our allegiance to God.

Authoritarianism. Oligarchy. Systemic injustice.

These are not just political problems. They are spiritual distortions of power that demand to be named.

And the test is always this: To whom will we give our ultimate allegiance?

Not just with our lips, but with our lives.

That’s why silence in moments like this isn’t neutral. It’s alignment. And the Church has to decide whether it will name what’s happening or accommodate it.

2. Resist Without Scapegoating

This is where René Girard’s wisdom matters. He showed us how the Powers feed off cycles of rivalry and blame. How they survive by directing people’s fear and frustration toward a scapegoat.

Jesus came to end that cycle.

He became the willing scapegoat, not to validate the violence, but to expose it. To show that God stands with the victim, not the mob.

That’s why we cannot mimic our enemies, even in our resistance.

We cannot dehumanize those who dehumanize. Because the moment we do, we lose the very thing we’re trying to protect.

Faithful Resistance calls us to speak truthfully, and love our enemies while standing with the oppressed.

3. Build Communities of Care and Courage

This is how we push back, with our lives.

We gather to worship not just out of habit, but because worship is counter-formation. We pray, not just for comfort, but as an act of holy defiance. We eat together, protect the vulnerable, and create space for belonging, because hospitality is spiritual warfare.

Dorothy Day reminded us: feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger, housing the poor, these are not just acts of charity. They are acts of resistance.

Because abductions by ICE are happening all around us.

You likely have immigrant advocacy groups in your area. Many are quietly helping families know their rights, get legal help, or find food after a loved one has been taken.

Show up. Ask how you can help.

And don’t underestimate your power to bear witness. Today, we’re not just neighbors, we’re reporters. If ICE shows up in your neighborhood, if someone is taken who has committed no crime, document it. Share it. Tell the truth in real time.

This, too, is part of faithful resistance.

Prayer

Gracious God,
You are the God of truth and justice,
of mercy and courage,
of the cross and the resurrection.

We come before You now,
with open hearts, heavy with the weight of our world.

We have seen injustice,
we have named the Powers,
and we know we cannot face them alone.

So we ask for courage,
to speak when it would be easier to stay silent,
to love when it would be easier to hate,
to act when it would be easier to look away.

We ask for clarity,
to discern truth from spin,
to see each person as Your image-bearer,
to resist the temptations of power, safety, and control.

We ask for community,
to walk this road with others,
to weep together, pray together, and rise together
as a people who bear witness to Your kingdom.

Forgive us where we have been indifferent.
Heal us where we have been wounded.
Strengthen us to be salt and light,
in our neighborhoods, in this nation, in this time.

May we follow Jesus all the way to the margins,
and all the way to the cross,
knowing that it is there Your resurrection begins.

And may Your Spirit empower us,
to resist with love,
to proclaim with hope,
and to live as citizens of a kingdom
that cannot be shaken.

In the name of the One who was crucified and is risen,
Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Looking Ahead

While current events may shift our focus, in my next series of posts I plan to explore how we can begin to mobilize the church for such a time as this.

We go together, not with fear, but with fire.
We carry hope like a lantern in the dark.
And we walk the way of Jesus: love that breaks chains, hope that makes room.