Over the last four years, I have grieved every time I heard a Christian chant, “Let’s Go, Brandon.” Or, even worse, “F*** Joe Biden,” (Which, by the way, is what Let’s Go, Brandon meant). I was heart-sick when I heard about the uproar caused in a church when the pastor said we should pray for President Biden. It’s not that I was a big fan of President Biden; it’s that I am a huge fan of Jesus Christ. Through the Scriptures, he instructs me to love, to pray, and to seek the public good. Soon, the tables will be turned. Soon, I know I will want to be filled with as much hatred and loathing for Trump as they are for Biden, and I fear for my own heart’s condition—that self-righteousness will blind me to the broader truth: those in power, no matter how flawed, also need grace.

I have a duty to love even those in positions of power even when I disagree with them or even when I loathe their character and policies: I am still commanded to love them and pray for them. I do not find in Scripture an endorsement of my civic values that allows me to justify hatred in the name of “biblical values.” I find in Scripture a challenge to transcend my civic and political views. The standard of love Scripture demands is tougher than the familiar biblical commands to care for the weak, which can feel self-affirming. Instead, Scripture calls for sympathy and sincere deference toward those in power—even when their mistakes are costly. Yes, we fight against injustice, but we must guard against giving in to hatred for the oppressor, the exploiter, the unfit, and the lawless. To love your enemies. This is the difficult thing. 

If God loved me enough to sacrifice his Son, then I must learn to draw upon that same love to love political leaders—vulnerable and exposed, wielding immense power yet desperate for affirmation and in need of grace. I feel conflicted, as though to surrender to love means I must turn from truth to lies, from compassion to hatred, from the Gospel to nationalism, and from Christ the Just One to lust for wealth and power that justifies any evil. Loving them feels impossible. But perhaps it isn’t. Scripture offers a path forward: I can love them if I do not fear them, when I realize their power over me no longer matters. I can love those in authority when I put them in their rightful place, where all forces bow to one ultimate authority, the Lord. It’s a love that requires trust, humility, and faith—an act of both submission and liberation. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me. Pray for me, a sinner. 

Though separated by centuries and contexts, the prophet Jeremiah and the Apostle Paul both engaged with cultural issues of their time, calling their audiences to align with God’s will. However, their methods differed significantly. Jeremiah, a fiery prophet confronting a crumbling Judah, spoke with directness and urgency, addressing societal and spiritual corruption head-on. Paul, writing to the Christian community in Rome, employed a more subtle and nuanced approach, weaving his critique into theological arguments and moral exhortations.

Walter Brueggemann’s insights into the Hebrew prophets, particularly Jeremiah, emphasize their role in dismantling the “royal consciousness.” This term refers to the dominant cultural ideology that sustains systems of power, wealth, and complacency at the expense of covenantal faithfulness. Jeremiah’s directness was born out of his context: Judah faced imminent destruction due to its idolatry, injustice, and refusal to heed God’s call to repentance.

Jeremiah’s prophetic imagination was not subtle. His words were fiery, his images shocking. He likened Judah’s idolatry to prostitution (Jeremiah 2:20), smashed a pot to symbolize the nation’s impending ruin (Jeremiah 19), and wore a yoke to dramatize submission to Babylon (Jeremiah 27). This approach was designed to confront a hardened people who had grown deaf to gentler appeals. As Brueggemann observes, the prophet’s role is to “revoke” the dominant narrative and to “summon” the people into an alternative reality — one that aligns with God’s justice and faithfulness.

Jeremiah’s directness aimed to awaken Judah to its dire situation, but it also made him a pariah. His critique of cultural and political leaders, combined with his stark warnings, alienated him from his contemporaries. Yet his unflinching approach was necessary to cut through the layers of denial and complacency that clouded the nation’s moral and spiritual vision.

The Apostle Paul’s context was dramatically different. Writing to the church in Rome, Paul addressed a mixed audience of Jewish and Gentile believers navigating cultural tensions in the heart of the Roman Empire. Unlike Jeremiah, Paul was not confronting a single, unified audience but rather a diverse group with competing worldviews, theological assumptions, and social standings.

Paul’s rhetorical strategy was one of subtlety and indirection. Instead of directly confronting cultural issues — such as Roman imperial ideology, Jewish-Gentile divisions, competing claims of cultural superiority, attempts to give honor to insiders and bestow shame on outsiders, or ethical laxity — Paul embedded his critique within theological arguments, appealing to shared values and the transformative power of the gospel. For instance, in Romans 1:18–32, Paul critiques the moral failures of Gentile culture, but his tone shifts in Romans 2, where he exposes the hypocrisy of Jewish readers who judge others but fail to live righteously themselves. This rhetorical move levels the playing field, preparing his audience to accept the universal need for salvation (Romans 3:23).

Paul’s subtle approach can also be seen in his critique of Roman imperial culture. While he does not directly attack Caesar or the empire, his language often subverts imperial claims. For example, his declaration that Jesus is Lord (Romans 10:9) implicitly challenges the Roman slogan “Caesar is Lord.” By presenting Christ as the true sovereign who brings justice and peace, Paul invites his audience to reconsider their allegiance without directly provoking the authorities.

Paul’s emphasis on civic virtues in Romans 12–13 is another example of his nuanced approach. While Paul calls believers to submit to governing authorities (Romans 13:1–7), this is not an endorsement of the empire’s moral or spiritual superiority. Instead, Paul subtly frames submission as a temporary posture, rooted in the Christian ethic of peace and love, while ultimately affirming that God’s kingdom transcends all earthly powers.

The differences between Jeremiah’s directness and Paul’s subtlety can be understood in light of their respective contexts and audiences. Jeremiah operated in a covenantal community that had explicitly rejected its obligations to Yahweh. His mission required urgent confrontation because the stakes were existential: Judah’s survival as a nation depended on repentance. Subtlety would have been ineffective in the face of such entrenched rebellion.

Paul, however, ministered in a pluralistic and politically charged environment. His audience included believers from vastly different cultural and religious backgrounds, many of whom were already marginalized within the Roman Empire. A direct prophetic approach, akin to Jeremiah’s, might have alienated or endangered his audience. Instead, Paul sought to foster unity and transformation by appealing to the shared foundation of the gospel and the universal lordship of Christ.

Despite their differing methods, both Jeremiah and Paul shared a common goal: to call their audiences to align with God’s will and to critique the cultural forces that opposed it. For Jeremiah, this meant exposing Judah’s idolatry and injustice in stark, unmistakable terms. For Paul, it meant weaving a subtle yet profound critique of Roman and Jewish cultural assumptions into his proclamation of the gospel.

Jeremiah’s directness demonstrates the necessity of bold truth-telling in times of crisis, while Paul’s subtlety highlights the power of persuasion and theological nuance in fostering lasting change. Together, they remind us that faithful witness requires both courage and wisdom, adapting methods to the needs of the audience and the demands of the moment.

Jeremiah and Paul embody two sides of the same coin in their engagement with cultural issues. Jeremiah’s directness disrupts complacency, while Paul’s subtlety builds bridges across divisions. Both approaches remain relevant today, offering models for addressing cultural challenges in ways that are both faithful to the gospel and responsive to the needs of the audience.

I am trying to learn from them to discern when to speak boldly and when to engage with subtlety, always aiming to bear witness to God’s justice, mercy, and transformative power. I have a lot of work to do on this. Pray for me.

In the year 2124, in the land of Novarion, Gibbon Edwards may write about the fall of a great nation, indeed, an empire. Not an empire of conquered nations but an empire of a transformative ideal, the American Ideal. She will write about how that once great nation collapsed from within after America was defeated by America: 

In the year 2024, after centuries of unparalleled prosperity, innovation, and democratic triumph, the great American Empire—a once proud beacon of freedom, progress, and noble ideals—faced an ignoble and inevitable demise. As the final echoes of its collapse reverberated throughout history, it became clear that its fall could be traced back to one singular cause: the rise of a peculiar faction of Christian zealots who inexplicably and with unwavering devotion pledged their allegiance to the most profane of figures— a vain, self-absorbed fool. 

Much like the Roman Empire of old, the American Empire’s strength was derived from its virtues of democracy, intellectual pursuit, and the rule of law. For centuries, its citizens—blessed by a legacy of Judeo-Christian and Enlightenment values—strove to form a more perfect union, championing the freedom of thought, worship, and the pursuit of truth. But regrettably, as the empire grew, so too did the power of factions—none more powerful or perplexing than the Evangelical Christians who, in the final days, placed their unwavering faith in a leader whose moral compass was as dubious as the emperor Nero’s and as erratic as Caligula’s.

To understand how this happened, one must first examine the state of Christianity in late America. Christianity had once been a noble force, preaching kindness, forgiveness, and love of neighbor—principles so vital to the republic’s soul. However, a great corruption had slowly crept in. In the spirit of Roman emperors who sought to use religion to bolster their power, a new breed of Christian emerged—one whose interpretation of the faith focused less on humility and charity and more on power, wealth, and the unfathomable belief that a vacuous reality TV star could be the chosen one to lead America. 

It was under this new post-Christian Christianity that the empire began its decline. As the faithful rallied behind the “great leader”—a man whose business acumen was as questionable as his grammar—the foundations of American democracy were steadily eroded. They turned a deaf ear and a blind eye to the words of the Hebrew prophets, the Apostle Paul, and the Savior himself. They chose to believe lies, lies that were not hidden by deception but lies on full display before their very eyes. Yet, they stubbornly refused to see what was brazenly done and said in the open. The Senate and the House, once a body of reasoned discourse, were reduced to a circus of sycophants, more interested in pandering to their Dear Leader than in defending the integrity of the nation. 

But the true tragedy lay in the Church’s complicity. Much like the early Christians who defied the Roman Empire’s authority and were later co-opted by it, so too did the American evangelical movement begin as a force for good but was soon ensnared by the temptations of power. The Church, in its desperate desire for political influence, sold its soul to a leader who promised them influence in exchange for their loyalty. They turned a blind eye to his moral failures—his lies, his mockery of the weak, his disregard for the poor—and in doing so, they abandoned the very teachings of Christ.

The once-thriving intellectual class of the empire—akin to the philosophers and orators of ancient Rome—found themselves mocked, dismissed, and ignored. The pursuit of knowledge was drowned in a sea of half-truths and social media rhetoric. Universities, the free press, and basic standards of decency and honesty faced relentless attacks. Most Americans, with an average reading level of 7th grade and a declining habit of reading books, fell into functional illiteracy. Propaganda posing as news replaced reliable information, while social media echo chambers amplified fears and stifled critical thinking. This environment fostered ignorance, promoting the illusion that facts were irrelevant and reality could be reshaped by sheer will. The result was a society untethered from truth, where Orwellian distortions thrived, and wisdom and knowledge were increasingly forsaken.

It was not long before the consequences of this folly became apparent. Much like Rome before it, the Republic was mired in civil war as factions within the Christian community—some still clinging to the ideals of truth, love, and the Gospel, others enthralled by the power of the golden calf—fought for control of the empire. The military, once a noble force tasked with protecting the nation, was increasingly employed as a tool of political violence. And just as Rome fell to the Visigoths, so too did America begin to crumble under the weight of its internal contradictions, as the rise of authoritarianism and division paved the way for chaos.

Yet, the true irony of this tragic tale lies in the fact that the Christians who supported this destroyer did not see themselves as the agents of destruction. They believed that by elevating a man whose values were so diametrically opposed to Christ’s teachings, they were somehow fulfilling the will of the Almighty. They saw in him a warrior for their faith when in reality, he was a mirror of their own corruption—a reflection of a people who had abandoned their principles in exchange for power, just as Rome had done centuries before.

And so, as the American Empire crumbled into the dust of history, the Christians who had once been its moral compass became the very instruments of its destruction. With the nation’s final collapse, there was no emperor to blame, no corrupt senator to decry, and no barbarian horde to fear. The fall was entirely self-inflicted, the work of a people who had traded their faith and democratic ideals for a false messiah.

Thus, the great American Empire, like Rome before it, met its end—not by the enemy’s sword but by the folly of its own citizens, who, in their blind pursuit of power, brought about their own downfall. And in the annals of history, the tale of America’s demise would be remembered as a cautionary fable: a tale of an empire that crumbled not under the weight of its enemies but under the misguided loyalty of its people.

Μὴ γένοιτο. May it never be. 

Jacques Ellul’s work Propaganda: The Formation of Men’s Attitudes (1965) and George Orwell’s 1984 (1949) both analyze how propaganda can shape perceptions, enforce conformity, and direct public behavior through the media. While Ellul studies the mechanics of propaganda in modern democracies, Orwell imagines a dystopian world where propaganda has reached its ultimate oppressive form. By examining Fox News through the perspectives of Ellul and Orwell, one can observe how it operates as a sophisticated machine for spreading selective narratives and reinforcing specific ideologies, creating an “us versus them” mentality similar to Orwell’s fictional world of 1984.

Ellul’s Concept of Propaganda and Orwell’s “Big Brother”

Ellul defines propaganda as a continuous, systemic effort to influence public perception and behavior through the careful integration of selective messaging. Propaganda operates best when it feels natural and becomes embedded in everyday life so that people unconsciously absorb certain ideologies as truth. Fox News fulfills this role by presenting itself as a reliable news source while constantly promoting specific perspectives and values. This mirrors Orwell’s idea of “Big Brother,” the ever-present government figure who dictates what is true or false and monitors society to ensure compliance with the state’s ideology. Although Fox News is not an authoritarian state, its pervasive influence and repetition of certain ideas have created a media environment that Orwell would recognize as a breeding ground for controlling thought.

Orwell’s 1984 illustrates how propaganda can construct an alternate reality where history and facts are manipulated to maintain social control. The concept of “Newspeak” in 1984, a language designed to limit thought and expression, demonstrates Orwell’s idea that language can be a powerful tool for controlling minds. In a similar way, Fox News often simplifies complex issues into short slogans and buzzwords—like “fake news,” “cancel culture,” and “patriotism”—which strip issues of complexity and create an emotional response rather than an informed analysis. This process echoes Ellul’s notion of “integration propaganda,” which aims to shape a collective identity by embedding certain values into society, guiding individuals to see themselves as part of a unified group defending against a common enemy.

Pre-Propaganda and the Shaping of Reality

Ellul introduces the concept of “pre-propaganda,” the subtle priming of audiences to accept certain ideas and frameworks before explicit messages are delivered. Fox News, like other powerful media outlets, operates on this principle by consistently promoting a worldview that emphasizes certain values, such as distrust of government, skepticism toward mainstream media, and hostility toward those perceived as “others.” Over time, these values become the baseline for interpreting information, priming audiences to accept ideologically driven news as factual. Orwell’s 1984 presents a similar concept in the Ministry of Truth, which rewrites history and shapes reality to ensure loyalty to the state.

Orwell’s “Two Minutes Hate,” a daily broadcast that channels public anger against the government’s enemies, is another parallel to how Fox News operates. By constantly framing groups like immigrants, liberals, or activists as dangerous or untrustworthy, Fox News creates an “us versus them” mentality, which encourages its viewers to see themselves as defenders of American values against various perceived threats. This mechanism of inciting fear and anger toward a common enemy aligns with Ellul’s concept of “agitation propaganda,” which motivates individuals by playing on strong emotions and providing them with a sense of purpose.

Emotional Manipulation: A Page from 1984

Ellul asserts that effective propaganda works by appealing to emotions, bypassing rational thought to create visceral reactions that are hard to counter with logic. Fox News frequently uses emotionally charged language, especially during primetime segments hosted by figures like Sean Hannity, Jesse Waters, and Laura Ingraham. These hosts use sensationalist and dramatic language to incite anger, fear, and outrage in their viewers, often over issues like immigration, crime, or threats to traditional values. This emotional manipulation resembles the “Two Minutes Hate” in 1984, where citizens are rallied to express rage toward the state’s enemies.

Orwell’s Party uses hatred to create loyalty to Big Brother and a fear of rebellion; similarly, Fox News harnesses fear to increase viewer loyalty by framing certain issues and people as existential threats to the American way of life. Ellul warns that propaganda’s appeal to strong emotions, like anger and fear, is highly effective because it creates an attachment to the propagandist’s agenda that is difficult to break. This emotional connection is self-reinforcing, causing audiences to feel as though any information challenging their views is not just incorrect but also threatening.

Cultivating Group Identity and Loyalty

Ellul describes propaganda as a means of creating a collective identity that allows individuals to feel a sense of belonging. Fox News builds this identity by frequently using inclusive language like “we” and “us,” encouraging viewers to see themselves as part of a larger group defending American values. By framing itself as the only trustworthy source, Fox News reinforces loyalty among viewers, who may feel that the network is uniquely “on their side.” This dynamic is reminiscent of Orwell’s 1984, where the Party encourages citizens to be suspicious of all information except what is state-approved.

In 1984, the concept of “doublethink” teaches citizens to accept contradictory truths if they come from the Party, preventing any resistance to the Party’s message. Fox News has a similar effect, where it encourages viewers to see mainstream media as biased or deceitful, fostering a media echo chamber. Even when Fox News reports controversial or factually questionable information, its loyal audience is conditioned to accept these messages without question, often dismissing contradictory sources as untrustworthy or fake.

The Language of Simplification and Misinformation

Both Orwell and Ellul recognize the importance of simplified language and controlled narratives in shaping public opinion. In 1984, “Newspeak” limits the range of thought by eliminating complex ideas from the language. Similarly, Fox News uses simplified slogans and catchphrases to reduce complex social and political issues into binary terms. For instance, terms like “war on Christmas,” “cancel culture,” and “patriotism” become rallying cries that eliminate nuances, creating emotional responses rather than informed debates. Ellul argues that such simplification is essential to propaganda because it allows people to take sides without needing to analyze or understand complex information.

Moreover, Fox News has been criticized for spreading misinformation, especially on issues like climate change, election integrity, and COVID-19. Orwell’s 1984 presents a world where the truth is whatever the Party declares it to be, even if it contradicts reality. Similarly, Fox News has crafted a version of reality for its viewers that is often disconnected from empirical evidence. According to Ellul, propaganda’s goal is not to inform but to embed a particular perspective so deeply that it becomes the audience’s accepted reality. This reliance on repetition and familiarity creates a stable “alternative truth” that often stands impervious to external verification, much like the Party’s insistence that “2+2=5.”

The Cycle of Propaganda and Orwellian Thought Control

Ellul warns that propaganda operates within a self-sustaining cycle, where individuals seek out information that reinforces their beliefs, deepening their dependence on a single source. Fox News benefits from this echo chamber effect, where its viewers continually return to the network as their primary source of information, viewing other media outlets as suspect or untrustworthy. This closed-loop system creates a sense of loyalty and insulates viewers from alternative perspectives, a phenomenon akin to Orwell’s 1984, where citizens are conditioned to view any dissenting views as dangerous.

The proliferation of Fox News across television, online, and social media platforms enables this cycle to persist, embedding its narratives into the daily lives of its audience. By mirroring Orwell’s warnings about thought control and media monopolization, Fox News illustrates how propaganda can create a reality that both Ellul and Orwell would recognize as dangerously limiting for a democratic society.

Conclusion

Through the combined lens of Jacques Ellul’s analysis of propaganda and Orwell’s dystopian vision in 1984, Fox News emerges as a propaganda machine that shapes public attitudes, reinforces specific ideologies, and promotes misinformation. By embedding certain values, simplifying complex issues, and creating an emotionally charged sense of identity, Fox News ensures that its viewers adopt a unified worldview aligned with the network’s agenda. This model not only amplifies Fox News’ influence but also inhibits critical engagement with alternative perspectives. As Ellul and Orwell warn, this type of propaganda—be it in reality or fiction—is both socially transformative and profoundly restrictive, limiting the potential for an informed, democratic society.

My theory is very simple: Follow the money. The government, businesses, and all Americans benefit from the exploitation of undocumented immigrants. Here is what I mean:

The issue of undocumented immigration in the United States presents a complex ethical challenge, one that reflects broader themes of economic exploitation, systemic injustice, and society’s responsibility to the vulnerable. The U.S. economy has come to depend significantly on undocumented immigrants, who contribute to essential industries and pay taxes without receiving proportional benefits. This system raises questions of justice and human dignity, especially when evaluated through biblical teaching. The biblical witness reveals the moral imperative to resist systems that exploit the vulnerable and to build communities rooted in compassion, justice, and care for all people, especially the marginalized.

Undocumented immigrants are embedded in key sectors of the American economy, including agriculture, construction, food service, and domestic work. In many cases, these industries would face significant disruption without the labor of undocumented workers, who often perform physically demanding and low-paid jobs that many American citizens avoid. The agricultural sector, for example, relies heavily on undocumented labor to meet production demands. Beyond their labor contributions, undocumented immigrants also pay billions of dollars in taxes each year—around $11.74 billion in state and local taxes, according to the Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy. Many contribute to Social Security and Medicare but are ineligible to receive these benefits, creating a one-sided economic exchange that bolsters these programs while denying benefits to those who fund them.

This arrangement, where undocumented immigrants provide labor and revenue without receiving reciprocal rights or protections, raises significant ethical concerns. This system is, at its core, a form of economic idolatry, for it stems from an economic structure that treats human beings as resources to be exploited for profit rather than as individuals with inherent dignity. The U.S. reliance on undocumented labor without granting these workers legal rights or protections reflects a structural sin—where economic priorities dehumanize and exploit a vulnerable population. While it is far easier to scapegoat undocumented immigrants, the problem is much closer to home. Our exploitation of the poor is the greater sin, for through it, we dehumanize those who are created in God’s Image, and we violate the biblical demands of justice and compassion.

The Bible consistently condemns the exploitation of the poor, highlighting that God’s justice extends to societal structures and economic practices. In the Old Testament, the prophets repeatedly denounce societies that exploit the vulnerable for personal or systemic gain. Amos, for example, warns of God’s judgment on those who “trample on the needy and bring the poor of the land to an end” (Amos 8:4). Isaiah also critiques leaders who enact “unjust laws” that deprive the poor of their rights (Isaiah 10:1-2), emphasizing that true worship of God requires justice and compassion for the vulnerable. The prophetic tradition underscores that societies are accountable to God for how they treat their poorest members, rejecting systems that benefit the powerful at the expense of the marginalized.

Consider this: The story of Sodom and Gomorrah is often remembered for the dramatic destruction of these cities as divine judgment for sexual immorality. Yet the Hebrew prophets repeatedly emphasize deeper issues—social injustice, neglect of the poor, pride, and the abuse of power.

The prophet Ezekiel explicitly addresses the sins of Sodom in Ezekiel 16:49-50: “This was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed, and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy. They were haughty and did detestable things before me.” Here, Ezekiel emphasizes pride, abundance without gratitude, and a lack of concern for the marginalized. Sodom is portrayed not merely as a place of personal immorality but as a society that has failed its most vulnerable members, focusing on self-interest and wealth over compassion and justice.

In the book of Isaiah, the prophet draws parallels between the sins of Israel and those of Sodom, particularly focusing on social injustice. In Isaiah 1:10-17, God, through Isaiah, rebukes the leaders of Israel by comparing them to the rulers of Sodom, condemning their empty religious practices that ignore justice and the plight of the oppressed. Isaiah’s message is that worship means little if it is not accompanied by a commitment to justice, compassion, and righteousness—values ignored by Sodom and Gomorrah.

The prophet Jeremiah also addresses the sins of Sodom, linking them to Israel’s moral and spiritual decay. In Jeremiah 23:14, he criticizes the prophets of Jerusalem, saying they “commit adultery and live a lie” and that they “are like Sodom” in their corruption. Here, Jeremiah connects the sins of Sodom to idolatry and moral degradation, showing how these sins can lead a society into decay.

Though not directly mentioning Sodom, the prophet Amos echoes the Hebrew Bible’s focus on social justice and righteousness, particularly regarding treatment of the poor. Amos warns that God’s judgment falls on societies that exploit the vulnerable and fail to uphold justice, showing a prophetic theme that reflects God’s concern with oppression, which mirrors the sins associated with Sodom.

The Hebrew prophets paint a broader picture of Sodom’s sins as deeply embedded in issues of pride, injustice, and a failure to care for those in need. Their condemnation of Sodom and Gomorrah serves as a cautionary reminder: true righteousness, according to the prophets, is not merely personal morality but a commitment to justice, mercy, and care for the marginalized. For these ancient prophets, divine judgment is a call to cultivate societies that reflect compassion and fairness—ideals that Sodom failed to uphold.

Walter Brueggemann’s The Prophetic Imagination adds another layer of insight, emphasizing the role of “prophetic imagination” in challenging systems of oppression. Brueggemann critiques the values of “empire”—societies that prioritize power, control, and economic growth over compassion and justice. The U.S. treatment of undocumented immigrants mirrors the logic of empire, where economic gain justifies the exploitation of the marginalized. Brueggemann calls Christians to envision alternatives rooted in God’s Kingdom, where justice and care for the vulnerable replace the priorities of empire. For him, true faith requires a commitment to societal structures that reflect God’s concern for justice, not systems that exploit the poor for profit.

In the New Testament, Jesus intensifies the biblical condemnation of exploitation, especially in relation to wealth and power. His mission statement in the Gospel of Luke—“to proclaim good news to the poor…to set the oppressed free” (Luke 4:18)—reveals a deep concern for the marginalized and oppressed. Jesus’ teachings challenge societal norms, warning of the spiritual dangers of wealth and greed. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus warns that “you cannot serve both God and money” (Matthew 6:24). This teaching points to the potential of wealth to lead to idolatry, where economic gain becomes more important than compassion and justice. Jesus’ words challenge believers to resist systems and practices that exploit the poor for financial gain.

1 Timothy 6:10 warns us that it is this love of money that is the root of all sorts of evil, including the evil of exploiting the poor and the powerless who have come to seek shelter and succor from us. The Apostle James also condemns the exploitation of laborers, warning that “the wages you failed to pay…are crying out against you” (James 5:1-6). James’ teaching reinforces the biblical message that God hears the cries of the oppressed and holds exploiters accountable.

The biblical message is clear: exploitation of the poor is a violation of divine justice. The U.S. treatment of undocumented immigrants, while economically advantageous, reveals a moral corruption that poisons the moral fabric of our nation. I am far more concerned with the condition of our hearts than with the politics of the issue.

As the church, we face a choice: We can be political partisans or prophetic witnesses—but we cannot be both. I don’t claim to have the answers to the complex issues surrounding undocumented immigrants. But I believe a better starting point is not mass deportations but rather the eradication of our own complicity in the economic exploitation of the poorest and most vulnerable among us. I pray, “Let justice roll down like water and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream (Amos 5:24) and let the church be the church.