This summer, LEAN is hitting the road!
We’re excited to be present at the Grand Canyon Synod Assembly on June 12–13, connecting with partners in ministry and sharing how advocacy is faith in action.

Then, on Saturday, June 14, Pastor Paul Larson, our Director of Advocacy, will offer a LEAN update at the Sierra Pacific Synod—highlighting where we’ve been, what’s ahead, and how congregations can get involved.

Want to bring the message of justice to your community?
Invite Pastor Paul to preach, teach, or lead an Adult Bible Study in your congregation this summer or fall.

Let’s keep building momentum together!

June 17 is commemoration of the martyrdom of the Emanuel 9—the nine people shot and killed on June 17, 2015, during a Bible study at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, S.C.

ELCA Congregations are encourgaed to host a remembrance during their Sunday service following June 15th or 22nd.

As we prepare to wrap up this journey along the Border, I find myself deeply moved by what we have seen, heard, and carried this past week. The words that stay with me are resilience and dedication.

Resilience in the migrant community.

Resilience among the workers who care for refugees, migrants, and asylum seekers.

Resilience in the face of disappointment, and the hope that continues to live on, even when the work might shift to new locations like Ciudad Juárez or other borderland communities in Mexico.

The work will still be there.

And the hope never dies.

On Thursday, we began our day meeting with a gentleman who has spent decades in this work. He shared with us the “push and pull” dynamics of the immigration system—how the influx we see is not accidental, but a result of both our actions and our inactions. He invited us to dwell in the uncomfortable but necessary truth: that we in the U.S. have played a role in the systemic harm that continues to afflict many Latin American nations. And, that we as Christians have often failed to resist the forces of Christian nationalism, failing to live out the Matthew 25 call to serve the least of these.

It was hard to hear. But I couldn’t agree more.

In many of our congregations, pastors have been afraid to “poke the bear.”

But the time for silence has passed. It is time to lead—with humility, but also with courage—and to reclaim our prophetic voices.

That afternoon, we heard from two women working within the legal system. One especially moved me as she named and remembered trans women who died in ICE custody. In an era of heightened violence against our transgender siblings, it was powerful to hear their names spoken aloud—to remember them, to honor them. She shared how common colds left untreated turned to pneumonia, how preventable diseases became death sentences in the cold, crowded holding cells.

Later, a public health advocate spoke about the challenges of healthcare access in the Borderlands. She told us about pregnant women navigating rural health deserts and border checkpoints—of the immense barriers that exist simply to receive basic care.

On Friday, we heard from two more women. One, with federal immigration experience, shared stories of family separation and the current state of U.S. immigration policy. A tension I’m still wrestling with is the role of Latine individuals in systems of enforcement—Border Patrol, Marshals, local police—and the internal struggle that journalist Maria Hinojosa has described in her own reporting.

The final speaker reminded me of my own abuela. She spoke about the trust she has built over a lifetime—working with city officials, CEOs, and powerful people—not for power’s sake, but to open doors for others. She reminded me of the quiet, faithful legacy of my own family: the tireless work to ensure neighbors were welcomed, cared for, included. A legacy of mutual aid and radical hospitality.

From everyone we met, I heard their heart, their passion, their conviction. And I witnessed the deep, holy work of re-humanizing those who have been dehumanized by a narrative of fear and hate, by both parties, by policy, and by public rhetoric.

We are complicit.

But we are not powerless.

We can tell these stories.

We can witness to the truth.

We can offer a different vision, a humanized AND faithful vision, of the borderlands.

What I experienced at the border was not chaos or fear.

It was peace.

It was hope.

In the birds flying back and forth across an invisible line.

In the traffic, indistinguishable from one side to the other.

In the faces of those I met, whose names I carry now.

There is hope for change.

And I hope to bring more people here to experience it.

So stay tuned.

So, where do we go from here? We tell the truth. We share the stories. We speak the names. We lead with humility and courage. We confront the systems that dehumanize, even when they’re close to home, even when it’s uncomfortable. The work doesn’t end at the border. It continues in our churches, our communities, our hearts. My hope is that more of us will come and see, that more of us will show up, not just at the border, but in the daily, ordinary ways we stand with our neighbors. The invitation is open. The time is now. Let’s not turn away.

Amen.

With you on the Journey,

Rev. Paul Larson

Thank you, Governor Lombardo for signing SB 421, which would ensure access to the voting booth on Tribal Lands.