A Call to Breathe and Speak

by Lori Wilson

Matthew (25:40) says clearly: "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." I am trying to live this truth one person at a time, and I also feel the pull toward something larger, something that addresses the systemic nature of what we're witnessing.

I have been praying for God to breathe new life into me—to fill me with the capacity to love as Jesus loves and to act as Jesus would act. As I sit with this prayer, I can’t escape the reality of people being detained, separated from families, often without just cause, living in fear and suffering.

The scope of this situation feels contrary to how I am called to live, so at odds with treating every person with the dignity they deserve. When I share my concern with friends and family, some tell me to "stop being so political." But this isn't about politics for me—it's about recognizing that each person matters, that what is happening is unjust and inhumane.

I have asked God where he is in all of this, and frankly, sometimes, the silence is deafening.

As a citizen, I watch my country respond to our immigration challenges by trading human dignity and kindness for expedient results. Proverbs 31(:8-9) becomes a mandate I keep hearing: "Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy."

The call seems clear to me. 

When I met with my spiritual director, wrestling with what felt like my own inadequacy in the face of this crisis, he asked: "What are you doing?" I replied that it felt like nothing—just helping to organize a prayer service. "And is that nothing?" he responded.

He's right. Prayer is something. Gathering in solidarity is something. But I am left longing for more.

If I were voiceless, I would want someone to speak on my behalf. If injustice were done to me, I would want someone to say, "Stop. Let's find a kinder way." This longing points me toward my calling: to move beyond the sanctuary into the world, to speak truth in places of power, and to advocate for policies that honor human dignity.

Prayer without action can become a comfortable form of inaction. Action without prayer can become mere activism. We are called to both—to breathe deeply of God's love and then exhale that love into concrete acts of justice.

And so I pray - 

Breath of God, you who breathe life into dry bones and hope into weary hearts,

We come before you carrying the weight of what feels too heavy to bear alone. We hold in our hearts those who are detained—mothers separated from children, fathers unsure when they will return home, families living in fear.

We confess that we do not always know how to love as Jesus loves, or how to act as Jesus would act. The scope of suffering overwhelms us. The silence can feel deafening.

Yet we trust that you are present even in detention centers, even in the fear, even in the systems that seem to forget the image of God in every person.

Breathe on us now, God. Fill us with your love that knows no borders. Give us eyes to see you in the faces of the detained. Give us voices to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves.

We pray for those in positions of power—soften their hearts toward justice. We pray for those who enforce policies—grant them wisdom and compassion. We pray for our own courage to move beyond comfortable prayer into uncomfortable action.

Help us remember that whatever we do for the least of these, we do for you.

Transform our longing for justice into concrete steps toward it. Turn our prayers into advocacy, our concern into courage, our love into lasting change.

We place into your hands all those who wait in detention tonight. Hold them. Comfort them. And use us to be your hands and voice in this broken world.

In the name of Jesus, who knew what it meant to be displaced and vulnerable, Amen.

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For Reflection: How is God calling you to move from feeling overwhelmed by injustice to taking one concrete step toward justice? What would it look like to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves in your sphere of influence?