I’d like to ask you to skim my post from yesterday. As you do so, I’d like you to read it with this question in mind:

• Who are the hurting people in our congregation?

I feel like many people read yesterday’s post with a political eye. They were asking questions like:

• Should there be undocumented immigrants in our churches?
• Is current immigration enforcement being carried out correctly?
• Who is to blame for the fear in the Hispanic community?
• Are the U.S. immigration policies just?
• Are we taking into account the hurt caused by some who are here illegally?

While those questions have a place at other times, they miss the point of yesterday’s post.What people failed to note was that I was addressing a situation in the University Church of Christ in Abilene, Texas. A church where a significant portion of our congregation is directly or indirectly affected by what is going on with immigration. A church that Sunday affirmed a Hispanic man and his family as being an integral part of our congregation (via a baby blessing).

Interestingly enough, that sort of illustrates something that happens in biblical interpretation. When we read the New Testament epistles, we often forget that many of them were written to address specific situations in specific churches. That’s what several readers did with yesterday’s post.

This wasn’t about what’s going on with the church in Laredo, Texas. This wasn’t about what’s going on with the church in Kalamazoo, Michigan. It wasn’t even addressing a situation at the Oldham Lane congregation in Abilene, nor the Highland congregation. It was about us and how we respond to hurting people in our congregation.

Someone asked if we also weep with those who live on the border and are suffering at the hands of people coming illegally. While we sympathize with them, it’s hard to minister to people we don’t know. Surprisingly few people drive up from the border to worship with us on Sunday.

As you skim yesterday’s post, think about your situation. Maybe you have Hispanics who are frightened and upset; maybe you don’t. Maybe you are in South Dakota and know people who have been impacted by the Keystone pipeline decision. You are to minister to them in ways that I can’t. Maybe you have families of Syrian descent who have relatives who have been displaced. Lay aside your thoughts on allowing refugees into this country, and go sit with them. Weep with them. Pray with them. Maybe you have a significant number of blacks in your congregation who feel threatened by recent events. Maybe you have families in law enforcement who feel disrespected and equally threatened.

Someone asked about families who lost relatives at the hands of immigrants driving drunk. My response was that the grief of those families would be the same whether or not the guilty driver were an immigrant or not. At a time like that, our response shouldn’t be shaped by politics. It should be shaped by love.

Our first responsibility is to those in our congregation. We spend far too much time scouring the Internet for news about terrorist attacks in Luxembourg when we need to be seeing the person down the pew from us whose heart is hurting. We post things on social media attacking this group or that group without considering how our words affect someone who pulls a cup out of the same communion tray we do on Sunday. That’s why yesterday’s post had the title it had. That’s what many failed to see when reading that post.

Here are two principles to start with:

1. Love God.
2. Love your neighbor.

Work out from there. If you do that, you’ll travel a long ways before arriving at partisan politics. If you start with the politics, you’ll have to go a long way before arriving back at the center.

Who is hurting in your congregation? Go minister to them today.