When the System Forgets We Are Human
A Meditation by Rev. Cameron Trimble
“Woe to those who make unjust laws, to those who issue oppressive decrees, to deprive the poor of their rights and withhold justice from the oppressed of my people.” —Isaiah 10:1–2
We are all being inundated with heartbreaking stories of people being detained by ICE agents and deported—mothers and fathers torn from their children, lives disrupted, communities shattered. But this weekend, it hit especially close to home in the little town where I live.
Sonia Parris is a 30-year-old mother of two. She has lived in the United States since she was two months old. For years, she worked and raised her family under the protections of DACA. But US Immigration policy has made the process of renewal nearly impossible: layers of bureaucracy, shifting rules, and impossibly high fees have pushed families like Sonia’s into impossible corners. In Sonia’s case, a traffic violation led to a missed court appearance. A warrant was issued for her arrest and she was detained on November 17th. Her family paid the $1300 bond. But when they arrived at the jail to bring her home, ICE had already taken her. She vanished into the system. Her family still doesn’t know exactly where she is.1
Her story is one among thousands, but each one matters deeply. Sonia’s story matters not only because it happened here, but because she is one of us. “At the end of the day, we’re just people,” said her ex-husband, Dalton Parris. “We’re all human beings trying to make it in this world. Sonia is no different than anyone else.”2
That is the truth. These are not violent criminals. These are neighbors, coworkers, classmates, parents at the PTA, teenagers in the youth group, fellow citizens of a shared hope.
The cruelty of our immigration system is not incidental—it is intentional. It reflects a theology of exclusion, a politics of fear, and a morality rooted not in compassion but in control. It is designed to make legal status unattainable for poor families, and then to criminalize their very existence. We detain them at court dates, at work, at traffic stops, at schools. We separate children from their parents. We strip away dignity and claim it’s the law. But as people of faith, we must remember: not all laws are just, and not all justice is lawful.
The prophet Isaiah warned against leaders who legislate oppression and codify injustice. Jesus, too, stood with the vulnerable against imperial violence. Our faith calls us to do no less. We are invited, not just to care, but to act. To resist systems of cruelty with the fierce tenderness of solidarity. To remember that every face is holy. That the sacred is always found in the margins.
We are in this together,
Cameron
Reflection Questions
Who in your community is most vulnerable to unjust laws right now?
What does it mean to act as a spiritual citizen, not just a legal one?
How can you help amplify the voices of those being silenced or disappeared?
A Prayer for the Day
A Prayer For the Ones They Try to Disappear
God of the exiled and the unseen, You crossed every border to draw near to us. You fled violence and knew what it meant to be unwelcome. Today, we name before you all those who have been torn from their families, all those trapped in detention, all those whose names we may never know. We pray especially for Sonia, and for every mother, father, and child longing for reunion and justice. Let our sorrow become fuel. Let our heartbreak become a call to action. And let our faith be known—not just by our prayers, but by our courage to speak, to protest, and to protect. Amen.
Spiritual Practice
Write Them Home
When policies become cruel and systems feel unmovable, our humanity must find a way to speak. This week, your practice is to “write them home.”
Our case study: Sonia Parris, a 30-year-old mother of two, was brought to this country as an infant and lived her entire life here. Through DACA, she worked, raised children, and contributed to her community. But after a minor traffic violation, she was arrested for missing a court date. Her family paid her bond. But when they went to bring her home, ICE had already taken her. She disappeared into the detention system. Her family still doesn’t know where she is.
Let your practice begin here. Write a letter—for Sonia or someone you know in a similar position. It could be to your local officials, your congregation, your neighbors, or to Sonia herself. Tell the story. Tell why it matters. Tell what your faith calls you to do in the face of this kind of injustice.
Let your letter be an act of protest, of prayer, of pastoral witness. Then send it. Share it. Read it aloud. Let it ripple beyond your own heart.
This practice isn’t about solving everything. It’s about refusing to look away. It’s about giving voice to the voiceless and calling back into community those who have been erased.
Let your words be a doorway home.
Upcoming Events That Might Be of Interest…
July 19-24, 2026 - Join me and amazing co-facilitator, Victoria, on retreat in the back-country of beautiful Wyoming. The Art of Wilding is a 5-Day Expedition for Women Leaders. We will spend the week reconnecting to nature, exploring our inner landscapes for change, and engage the wisdom of spiritual teachings. Click here to learn more.
I drafted a Strategic Framework for Congregations as we move into the coming years of increased authoritarianism around the world. If interested, you can download it here.
If you are a leader or member of a congregation looking for consulting support in visioning, planning, hiring or staffing, please consider Convergence.
Sonia’s family set up a GoFundMe page to help cover legal fees: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-sonia-reunite-with-her-children?attribution_id=sl%3A2a67a744-cb83-40f2-8b07-f813019b68fd&lang=en_US&ts=1763642622
And Jesus wept, and so do I.
Thank you for today's meditation. I'm reminded of the "flight into Egypt" when Jesus' parents became refugees in another country to escape the violence of Herod against baby boys. If "Christians" could appreciate the desperation and terror of Joseph and Mary as they fled, perhaps (haha) there could be sympathy for others in similar circumstances.