Doing the “Wrong” Thing for the Right Reason
Faith, Protest, and Moral Complexity
Friends, I meant to send out my first paid-subscriber post a few weeks ago. But then—well—first Nicole Good, then the Minnesota protests more broadly, then a speaking gig in D.C. And now the latest news. (Besides all of the above. And Greenland. And don’t forget Venezuela.) The most recent flashpoint is the outrage over a group of protesters who disrupted a church service to call attention to David Easterwood, who appears to serve as a top ICE official in the Twin Cities.
Many people have been quick to label the protestors’ action as “wrong.” I shared my thoughts about this on Threads—namely, that people seem more outraged by a protest during church than by the reality that ICE has been intimidating and arresting people in and around churches, schools, and hospitals. (Yes, parking lots too—still church property.) Over the past year, ICE has ignored due process, deported people to countries that are not theirs, denied access to hired attorneys, used inhumane detention facilities, and even detained U.S. citizens.
From the responses I’ve received, it seems that for some folks, none of that changes the conclusion: what the church protesters did was still “wrong,” and I should at least name it as such.
I won’t—and I’ll explain why in a moment.
First, a bit of context. I had promised a series on the burning bush narrative, and for a bit there it didn’t feel urgent to focus on that when empire-level commentary felt necessary elsewhere. But then I remembered something crucial: we don’t get to Exodus 3 without Exodus 1. And that’s where this conversation about protesting in church comes back into view—this insistence that we must first admit the protest was “wrong.”
Here’s what we need to understand when it comes to the Bible. If you’ve read my first book, Abuelita Faith, this (particularly the women) sits at the very center of it—but consider this a refresher: Scripture is full of stories of people doing what those in power considered “wrong” in order to confront injustice. Civil disobedience, cunning, deception—whatever it took to resist systems of harm. “Protest” can take many forms.
Since we’re talking about Exodus, Moses repeatedly defies Pharaoh’s authority, demanding freedom for enslaved people. From an imperial standpoint, he is a destabilizer and a threat to national security. Scripture frames his defiance as obedience to God.
In Joshua 2, Rahab lies to the king of Jericho in order to hide Israelite spies. Her deception is treasonous in the eyes of the state, yet she is praised for her faith and becomes part of Israel’s story—and Jesus’ lineage.
Daniel and his companions refuse the king’s food, refuse to bow to the statue, and continue to pray despite legal prohibition—these are acts of religious and political disobedience. The law says they are wrong, and God vindicates them.
Jesus heals on the Sabbath, disrupts the Temple economy, eats with the “wrong” people, and openly challenges religious and political authorities. From the standpoint of both Rome and the religious elite, his actions are illegal and destabilizing.
When ordered to stop preaching, Peter and the apostles respond: “We must obey God rather than human authority.” Their refusal leads to arrest and punishment—but the narrative frames this as faithful witness.
Morality is not always black and white in the Bible. (I have an entire chapter in Liturgies on how deeply dualistic thinking has shaped our imaginations—so much so that many of us can barely envision a world without it.) When we are facing systemic evil, the lines are rarely clean.
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