I have started this blog over and over again, trying to put words to the ache in my chest, trying to weave together hope and righteous anger into something coherent, something that won’t unravel the moment I hit “post.” In the last two days, many of my compassionate, justice-seeking colleagues have received furlough notices. To say the last two days have been difficult is a huge understatement. I admit that there have been moments when fear and panic have tried to take hold of me. Yesterday, as I signed off my computer with tears in my eyes, I thought: The helpers are being crushed. Hope feels like it’s slipping through our fingers. Justice is retreating into the shadows.
But then, something deeper stirred within me: a holy and righteous anger. This kind of anger does not slink away into a corner. The anger does not surrender to despair; it rallies the helpers, fuels the fight and steadies shaking hands. It ignites voices that refuse to be silenced, and it reminds me of the people I am privileged to serve and know. Newcomers, who have walked through deserts and crossed oceans, who have carried their babies on their backs as they fled violence, who have raised their children in plastic tents under skies that have bore witness to countless fears. And still, they persist. Still, they choose hope. Still, they believe in a better tomorrow.
Their courage humbles me. Their hope challenges me. Their persistence fuels my own resolve. Because welcome is extending kindness. Belonging is a fundamental human right and without belonging, justice is denied.
The Power of Righteous Anger
To the helpers: do not give in; righteous anger does not surrender. It does not retreat. It is the fire in our bones that keeps us moving. It is the force that drives us into the streets to protest injustice. It compels entire communities to throw open their doors. It lifts voices in defiance of policies that strip dignity from the oppressed. Righteous anger does not smolder in silence but ignites and blazes into action. It flips tables. It refuses to be dismissed. It is the sacred unrest that refuses to be silenced, the unyielding call to rise and support our neighbors, to demand justice.
Reclaiming Community
My friends, we were made for each other. For shared burdens, radical hospitality, and for pulling up extra chairs to the table. However, somewhere along the way, we forgot. We turned inward. We built walls, both literally and figuratively. We let fear whisper that kindness and generosity were dangerous and that welcoming others meant losing something for ourselves. This is a lie.
The recent funding cuts to refugee resettlement are a betrayal of our collective responsibility to each other. They reject our calling to love our neighbor, to extend mercy and to recognize the dignity of every single human being.
Our refugee neighbors need us now more than ever. This is our moment to reclaim what it means to belong to one another. To show up. To dig in. To choose each other again and again. Justice demands more than words; it demands action.
The Origin of Birth
None of us chose where we were born. We did not pick the country that would shape our childhood, the privileges we might inherit, or the conflicts we would be born into. Some of us were born into safety and stability. Others were born into war, displacement and persecution. The difference between a life of security and a life of survival is often nothing more than the origin of your birth. And if we, who have been born into safety and security, were the ones forced to flee, wouldn’t we want someone to welcome us?
How You Can Help
- Donate to Church World Service (CWS)
- Volunteer to Support Your Local Resettlement Agencies
- Call Your Senators & Representatives & Sign Up for CWS Action Alerts
- Amplify Refugee Voices in Your Community
I am committed to flipping the tables of injustice and to tearing down barriers to welcome because I humbly recognize that I am my brother’s keeper. I will stand in the streets, in my Senator’s office, and at the doors of those who turn their backs on the vulnerable, reminding them that justice is not a privilege, it is a right. And I will not stop until justice prevails.
Who is with me?
Stacey Clack is CWS’ Director of Community Belonging and Transformation