I’ve been watching the fiftieth season of Survivor. I’ve watched this show for years, and if you pay attention from season to season, there’s a pattern that emerges. Again and again, there are immigrants or children of immigrants who talk about who they watch the show with, a grandmother, a dad, or a whole family gathered together.

This season, I’ve been rooting for Kamilia, whose family immigrated from Sri Lanka, and Rizgod, who is from Albania descent. Their stories aren’t just background, they’re part of what makes the show meaningful. They remind us that behind every person is a story of movement, sacrifice, and belonging.

As Hamilton reminds us: “Immigrants—we get the job done.” But it’s more than that. Immigrants don’t just “get the job done.” Their stories are still shaping our country—still shaping us—even in trying times.

This past weekend, I was back in Minneapolis for the first time since this past fall when I was visiting for a friend’s ordination. It was strange to be back in Minneapolis just a couple of months after the killings of Alex Pretti and Renée Good.

As we drove along Hiawatha Avenue, prior to our arrival, we had already heard reports that ICE still had a significant presence in the city. For our own safety, and for the work we do, it felt necessary to stay somewhere more secure.

And as we drove, the city felt different. A place that had once been bustling felt, at moments, like a ghost town. A Friday in downtown Minneapolis—once full of life—felt quiet in a way that was hard to name.

The fear is real. But what lingers even more than the headlines is the trauma.

I thought about an interview I once heard with a pastor. “Pastor Dan”,who said that in Minnesota, people had learned to live with ice. To outsmart it. To outlast it.

But you can’t outlast fear without being shaped by it.

Even if the visible presence has lessened, something deeper remains. The fear is still there. The trauma is still there. People move differently. Gather differently. Trust differently.

And that’s the tension I keep coming back to.

On one screen, I’m watching stories of immigrants—stories of resilience, family, and hope—on a reality show that brings people together.

And in real life, I’m walking through a city where immigrant communities—and those who stand with them—are carrying fear, grief, and uncertainty.

Both are true.

And maybe the question for us, as people of faith, is this:

What does it mean to honor the stories we celebrate…
while also standing with the people who are still living through fear?

This social message was adopted in 2004 by the Church Council of the ELCA.

The social message on “Living in a Time of Terrorism” was developed in the early years of the 21st century as acts of terrorism reached haunting proportions throughout the world. Drawing on the social statement “For Peace in God’s World,” the ELCA Church Council adopted this message as a means to facilitate thoughtful discussion in congregations and to encourage members to participate in civic deliberation as citizens. It is a resource for reflection on such questions as:

• What is terrorism?
• In light of our faith, how should we oppose terrorism?
• What are the responsibilities and limits of government for earthly peace and security?
• What gives rise to terrorism?
• How does our faith address the fear that terrorism causes?

Through this message, we encourage people, congregations and communities to talk together about what it means to be peacemakers in a time of terrorism and to take part in the ongoing public discussion on terrorism, security and peace. You can read or download the full social message on “Living in a Time of Terrorism” in English or en español. This social message was adopted in 2004 by the Church Council of the ELCA.

Adopted by more than a two-thirds majority vote (803-30) as a social statement of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America by the fourth Churchwide Assembly on August 20, 1995, at Minneapolis, Minnesota..

For Peace in God’s World conveys ELCA teaching on matters related to war, domestic and international security, and the Christian call to be peacemakers. The statement is grounded in the scriptural understanding that God desires shalom (the Hebrew word for complete well-being of all) but that such eternal peace is fragile and imperfect within even the best earthly peace and well-being that human beings may achieve. Because of the sin-filled reality of earthly life, this statement affirms just war teaching in the service of just peace, with attention to what this means for culture, economics, politics, military conduct and international security.

The statement also recognizes the significant witness of conscientious objectors and others who, as a matter of faith, cannot condone war in any circumstances. It calls all disciples to be advocates for a Christian peacemaking that strives for human rights, political alternatives to war, social justice, control of the arms trade, and creative means of working for peace in God’s world.

The news can feel overwhelming at times, and during this season of Lent, that feeling can be both a burden and a strange kind of calling.

Maybe as a pastor I’m not supposed to say that out loud, but honestly, the news lately is VERY dreadful. We are only partway into March and already the world feels heavy. There are tensions brewing across the globe, a military operation in Cuba? Another potential quagmire emerging in the Middle East? Sometimes it feels like too much.

It reminds me of driving on the highway and seeing a terrible accident on the side of the road. You try not to look—but it’s hard not to. And for those of us just passing by, it can be easy to think: That’s not my problem. The best thing to do is keep moving so we don’t get in the way of the emergency personnel. Maybe we whisper a quick prayer for them, and then continue down the road.

I understand that impulse. I have felt it myself.

But the systems that respond to crises, the ambulances, the trained medical professionals, the safety standards in our cars, the people who clear the roadway and keep traffic moving, those things don’t just happen. They exist because of public policy. They exist because people made decisions about how society should function and care for one another.

Public policy decisions don’t fall from the sky. Someone makes them happen. And voters choose the people who make those decisions.

For those who claim voting doesn’t matter, they are either kidding themselves or slipping into a kind of nihilism that absolves them of responsibility in a democratic republic.

This past Sunday many of us heard the story from the Gospel of John about Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well.

I’ve heard many sermons, often preached by men, about how scandalous this woman must have been because she had been married five times. But when we reread the story carefully, we realize those judgments are projections. The text doesn’t say that.

What we actually know is this: she meets Jesus at Jacob’s Well in the middle of the day, under the scorching sun.

Unlike Nicodemus, the Judean religious leader who came to Jesus under the cover of night, this Samaritan woman encounters the Messiah in broad daylight. She speaks with him openly. She listens. And she is so moved by what she hears that she leaves her water jar behind and runs back to her community to share the good news.

Jesus was right in front of her.
Engaging her.
Seeing her.

And she responded.

So I wonder: how are we paying attention?

What is our role in this moment?

Is it simply to glance at the wreckage of the world and drive past it? Or are we called to something more, to engage our communities, to participate in civic life, and to prepare for what comes next?

The midterm elections are still months away, but the primary elections are quickly approaching.

What issues matter to you?
Who do you see on your way to church, to work, to school?
What are the needs in your community?

Faith calls us not to turn away, but to pay attention. To learn. To engage.

Educate yourself on the issues that matter. Read the ELCA social statements and social messages. Talk with your neighbors. And most importantly, make a plan to vote.

The power is still in your hands.

We’ll see you out there.

With you on the Journey,

Pastor Paul Larson