Sermon on January 26 about immigration raids and fears

Illinois Holocaust Museum, Skokie, Ill. Photo: Gerald Farinas.

Later, we will be singing a hymn called, “Lord, You Have Come to the Lakeshore.”

It’s a hymn of calling, of Christ’s invitation to follow Him into a life of service and love. 

Edgewater, our home, stands on the shores of Lake Michigan—a place of beauty and peace but also of connection and movement—a superhighway since the days when ancient indigenous peoples passed through here between their tribal nations, meeting here to trade and share.

This was a place where these peoples found themselves to be more in common rather than different—of many, becoming one in the work of community. 

And just as Jesus called His disciples by the Sea of Galilee, He calls us by our lakeshore to be His hands and feet in this world, becoming one in the work of community, especially in times of fear and uncertainty.

I was out celebrating my birthday this past Friday night with friends when I received a phone call from among our congregants. It was a shock at the moment that I was actually hearing words, in ordinary times, would never be asked in America.

But these are unprecedented times in our nation where things we’ve seen in other far flung places are going to happen or are happening here.

“Am I safe coming to church this Sunday?” … Will we be raided? Will they force themselves into our church and on our immigrant friends? … Are we safe in our church?”

That this question is asked here… not in Uganda where Idi Amin assassinated an archbishop and raided churches, not in El Salvador where the junta assassinated an archbishop and raided churches, not in mainland China where they imprison bishops and raid house churches, but here in America… today in 2025.

“Are we safe in our church?”

Today’s Scripture from the Apostle Paul’s letters to the Corinthians reminds us that we are not alone in the call to become one in the work of community—especially in times like this.

We are the body of Christ, made up of many parts, and each of us has a role to play. 

In each generation in the history of our peoples, challenges have been forced upon us. But always, always, we have been equipped by God with the resources to overcome them.

Today, together, we face the fears and challenges of our time, and together, we are called to bring hope and healing to our neighbors. 

Because that is what Christians do.

Because that is what we can offer.

That is the light we can burn into a blazing fire to confront the shadows that are trying to overcome us.

Let’s start by naming the fears that are rippling through our community and beyond.

I’m going to be blunt.

There are real people feeling real feelings right now. And what is Church if we do not call out and name what is in our face?

Under this new presidential administration, many of our neighbors are afraid. Especially in our building, this New Community House, that serve many classes and categories of people that have been targeted in rhetoric. 

We serve women, we serve battered women, we serve people with mental health challenges, we serve people with physical and mental disabilities and receive help paying for the care that they need to function.

We serve people who are LGBTQ who otherwise have nowhere else to go to to worship and serve because other churches have turned them away.

And we have immigrants—undocumented and documented, non-citizens, and legal residents, and lawful citizens, too. 

They’re afraid of immigration raids that could tear their families apart—our communities apart.

They’re afraid of losing the civil rights and liberties they’ve fought so hard to secure.

Women fear the rollback of protections for their health and autonomy.

Our LGBTQ siblings worry about their safety as reports of anti-gay and anti-trans violence is higher than ever before.

The earth itself groans under the weight of policies that dismiss the urgent need for action to protect what God created. 

And many of us fear the rise of Christian nationalism that distorts the Gospel into a tool of exclusion and control—namely by one kind of Evangelical Christianity and one race, one color, one political viewpoint.

These are not abstract fears; they are real, personal, and urgent. 

They are the fears of our neighbors here in Edgewater—immigrant families, activists, climate scientists, youth, and people of all walks of life who simply want to live in a society that reflects God’s justice and peace.

I would be lying if I decided to preach a feel good sermon on how you’re going to be fine if you just pray and believe. Because it takes more than just prayer and belief to meet this challenge.

Responding to Fear

Paul’s words to the Corinthians remind us that fear and division are not new.

The early Church was a diverse community, full of people from different backgrounds, cultures, and social standings. They struggled with their own fears and disagreements. 

And yet, the Apostle Paul tells them: “You are the body of Christ and individually members of it.”

Each one of them mattered. Each one of them had a role to play in building a community of love and care. 

The same is true for us.

We are the body of Christ here in Edgewater. 

When one part of the body suffers, we all suffer. 

When one part of the body fears, the whole body responds.

That is our calling—not to turn away from the fears of our neighbors but to lean in, to listen, and to act.

Each of us has gifts to bring to this work. 

Some of you may feel called to advocate for immigrants by working with organizations that provide legal aid or sanctuary. 

One of our space sharers, Edgewater Mutual Aid Network, created flyers in different languages that they shared with frightened immigrants what to do when ICE or CBP (border patrol) knock on their door. And what to say and not to say. And who to call for free legal help if they get caught. 

You can find those resources and share them, too! 

People are going to lose subsidies that help pay for housing, medicine, and other needs.

Volunteer at Edgewater Mutual Aid, Care for Real, Sarah’s Circle for battered women, or lead an activity at Bryn Mawr Cares.

Donate food, clothes, or even raise money for these groups. 

Others may have gifts in creating safe spaces for LGBTQ youth like Brave Space Alliance or hosting talks on environmental justice—maybe right here in our church parlor.

Still others may be called to speak truth to power, to challenge policies and rhetoric that harm the vulnerable.

Do you have a bullhorn or flag like I do? Maybe we have to march.

If you’d rather not get arrested like I might, that shouldn’t stop you from writing letters and calling on members of Congress and senators unrelentingly to act on certain policies.

Some of you like to talk. Go talk the ears off our elected officials!

Some people are even calling our Presbyterian Church (USA) headquarters asking why our national leaders haven’t said anything yet on some of these fears our people have. 

And all of us, in big ways and small, are called to be a presence of love and solidarity—to remind our neighbors that they are not alone.

Sometimes your advocacy will best be felt in kind words, holding a hand, hugging an anxious person, making a cup of tea, and venting over a hot meal.

Ted McClelland 

Ted McClelland, a member of our congregation, has written extensively on the Midwest and its communities in books and in some of my favorite Chicago Magazine articles.

His body of writing often emphasizes the importance of community and resilience.

For instance, in his book How to Speak Midwestern, Ted talks about the unique linguistic traits that pull Midwestern communities together, in a way highlighting shared identity and mutual support that kind of makes us one people.

This underscores the idea that, much like the interconnected body the Apostle Paul describes in his letters to the Corinthians, our shared culture—yes this group of white and Black Chicagoans, immigrants from Nigeria, Cameroon, India, Scotland, Michigan, North Dakota, Alabama, Pacific Northwest and Nebraska, has developed its own culture—in this one community can unite us in times of uncertainty. 

In the spirit of Ted’s observations, let us remember that our collective identity and mutual support are vital as we navigate challenges together.

By embracing our shared humanity and standing in solidarity with our neighbors, we embody the unity and love that Paul speaks of—a unity that transcends fear and fosters hope.

Fear Does Not Have the Final Word 

It’s easy to feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of the challenges before us. But as people of faith, we proclaim that fear does not have the final word.

Christ does. 

And Christ’s word is one of hope, justice, and resurrection.

Do you remember what Jesus told His disciples when they were afraid?

“Do not be afraid.”

It’s one of the most repeated commands in Scripture.

But notice that Jesus doesn’t just say, “Don’t feel fear.”

He calls them to action.

He sends them out to heal the sick, to feed the hungry, to welcome the stranger.

He calls them—and us—to respond to fear with love.

This is what it means to be Christ’s body. It means standing together, supporting one another, and living out our faith in tangible ways. 

It means showing up for our neighbors when they are afraid.

It means being the Church that reflects the inclusive, liberating love of Christ. 

The Call by the Lakeshore

Just as Jesus called His disciples by the lakeshore, He calls us now.

He calls us to be His hands and feet in this community, to respond to fear with courage and love.

Edgewater is a place of diversity, resilience, and hope.

It is a place where people from all walks of life come together.

And it is a place where we, as the body of Christ, can make a difference. 

What will we do with this calling?

How will we respond to the fears and needs of our neighbors?

How will we use our gifts, our voices, our resources to bring hope and healing?

These are questions we must answer together, as one body. 

“Lord, you have come to the lakeshore, looking neither for wealthy nor wise ones; you only asked me to follow humbly.” 

Christ is calling us—not because we are perfect or powerful, but because we are willing.  

Willing to stand with our neighbors.

Willing to be the body of Christ.

Willing to bring hope to a world in need. 

Let us answer that call, here on the lakeshore of Edgewater. And may God bless our work as we go forward, together, as one body.

Amen.