Christianity Beyond Power: A Call to Love Our Neighbors

by Dr. Craig Goodwin-Ortiz de León, PhD

Christianity is a way of love before it is a badge of belonging, and American Christians need to recover that simple truth. The measure of our faith is not institutional clout or cultural dominance. The measure is whether people on the margins can recognize good news in our presence. Jesus located himself with the poor, the stranger, the sick, and the imprisoned, and he taught that the health of a community is seen in how it treats the least protected. When churches confuse proximity to power with faithfulness, they bless systems that harm the very neighbors God commands us to love. The invitation is to turn again toward a practical, embodied love that shows up in public. If Christianity means anything in the United States today, it must mean choosing mercy over fear, solidarity over indifference, and neighborly care over self-protection. A church that makes these choices bears credible witness to Christ’s kingdom of justice and peace.

Nowhere is this calling clearer than in our treatment of people of color. In immigrant neighborhoods, families live with daily anxiety because immigration enforcement often operates with sweeping suspicion. Community advocates document cases where long-time residents are detained during routine encounters, and even citizens have been caught up through errors that take weeks to correct. Fear spreads faster than facts when uniforms appear on the block, and children learn to anticipate the worst. Politicians invoke religion while policies fracture households and silence those without resources. The gospel will not let us look away. A Christian imagination formed by the Sermon on the Mount refuses to accept disposable lives. It insists that dignity is not conferred by paperwork or status but by the image of God. If the Church wants moral authority, it must stand beside those targeted by suspicion and help them breathe again through accompaniment, legal aid, and public advocacy that protects families from harm.

We see the same crisis in how cities respond to homelessness. NIMBY arguments promise safety and order, yet the result is the displacement of human beings who already lack shelter. Encampment sweeps scatter people from services, destroy personal documents and medications, and push neighbors into more dangerous spaces. Citation-heavy approaches drain public funds while producing neither housing nor healing. The Christian story recognizes a Savior who said he had nowhere to lay his head, and this detail matters because it identifies God with those left outside. Loving our unhoused neighbors means investing in housing first, expanding low-barrier shelters, protecting outreach work, and creating pathways to treatment and employment. It also means resisting policies designed to make poverty invisible. A community that calls itself Christian will be known by whether its sidewalks become corridors of care or corridors of punishment. If love is our command, then shelter and stability are not optional extras. They are the test.

The path forward is simple to describe and demanding to live. Christians can choose practices that place us beside those who suffer and reshape our public life toward mercy. Congregations can partner with immigrant defense networks, fund rapid-response aid, and open church spaces for know-your-rights trainings. Parishes can join coalitions for affordable housing, advocate for humane encampment standards, and support proven housing-first strategies. Households can learn neighbors’ names, share food, and vote for policies that keep families together and people indoors. None of this requires perfection, only fidelity to the command to love God and love neighbor. A faith that moves in this direction looks like Jesus because it heals, welcomes, and protects. If our Christianity does not help the poor, the immigrant, and the unhoused, it is time to change course. God’s grace gives us courage to start now, so that every neighbor can find safety, dignity, and belonging among us.