There is no suffering which in the history of the world is not God’s suffering, no death which has not been God’s death in the history on Golgotha.

— Jürgen Moltmann

Jesus will be in agony even to the end of the world. We must not sleep during that time.

— Blaise Pascal

It is not okay to be silent anymore.

— Jeanelle Austin

In the face of the barbaric cruelty and violence by the lawless agents of a rogue administration, the voices of resistance, justice and love are crying “No!” That cry is taking many forms, and as a Christian I am thankful that so many people of all faiths are making their voices heard and putting their bodies—and their belief—on the line. I know that many passionate voices were raised in pulpits across the land last Sunday, one day after Alex Pretti was killed by ICE. Let me share with you one particular example from St. John the Evangelist Episcopal Church in Saint Paul, Minnesota.

January 25 was the Third Sunday after the Epiphany, whose Scripture readings included Isaiah’s “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light,” and Jesus’ call to “Follow me.” The guest preacher was the Rev. Mike Kinman who, like many other clergy, had come from afar to join the mass protests in the Minneapolis streets. In an apostolic spirit, he told the rest of us what he had witnessed there: crucifixion, yes, but also resurrection—and the stirrings of the Spirit—in the solidarity of the people.

I encourage you to listen to Kinman’s urgent and inspired words in the 22-minute video below, and to keep the conversation going wherever you are as you continue to forge your own godly response to these harrowing times. Be yourself God’s candle in the darkness.

And don’t miss the sermon’s stunning ending, when the preacher exits the pulpit, leaving the final word to Jeanelle Austin, a theologically trained activist for racial justice in Minneapolis. She herself was not physically present. Her prophetic plea for justice, recorded a day earlier on Nicollet Avenue where Pretti died, was played through the church’s sound system.

This sermon’s striking final image—an empty pulpit as we hear Austin’s words ring out—strikes me as a compelling analogue of divine speech: a message delivered by a human voice, but coming from a transcendent source beyond our sight—not just from Nicollet Avenue, but from the heart of the crucified God.