In an era when “law and order” has become a political rallying cry, the church must remember what Scripture actually teaches about authority—and why the events in Minnesota demand our attention, our discernment, and our courage.

Forget about immigration policy for a second.

Like it or not, President Donald Trump’s victory in 2024 came in no small part because most Americans preferred his approach to border security generally and deportation specifically. Let’s even say, for the sake of argument, that Trump came in with a mandate for a restrictionist immigration stance.

You can say all that and still say this: What the federal government is doing in Minnesota is intolerable. It is chaotic, reckless, and overbearing. It is a misuse of authority, an incompetent and authoritarian means even insofar as it pursues a democratically invited end.

The Trump administration should be able to enforce immigration law without tear-gassing infants, arresting peaceful clergy, smashing the windows of open cars, and pepper-spraying protesters in the face from four inches away. It should be able to do it without using cheap AI edits to callously lie about Americans. It should be able to do it without making a sick joke—and I do hope it was a joke—about putting citizens in databases for the mere expression of dissent.

And most of all, the Trump administration should be able to execute on its immigration mandate without executing people like Alex Pretti in the streets.

THE MINNESOTA CRISIS: WHAT’S ACTUALLY HAPPENING

The images coming out of Minnesota over the past weeks have been jarring, even for those who support stricter immigration enforcement. Federal agents in tactical gear. Tear gas in residential neighborhoods. Clergy arrested while providing pastoral care. And most disturbingly, the death of Alex Pretti—a US citizen shot multiple times, including three times in the back according to sworn testimony from a doctor who examined his body on scene.

The official response has been equally troubling, not for what it acknowledges but for what it reveals about how authority is understood—or misunderstood—at the highest levels of government.

Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth shared a meme suggesting that anyone could avoid ICE simply by being in the US legally, not “attacking” agents, and obeying the law. Assistant US Attorney Bill Essayli claimed, “If you approach law enforcement with a gun, there is a high likelihood they will be legally justified in shooting you.” Trump himself posted that everyone should just “LET OUR ICE PATRIOTS DO THEIR JOB!”

Perhaps most revealing were comments from US Border Patrol Commander Gregory Bovino, who has been onsite in Minnesota: “If you obstruct a law enforcement officer or assault a law enforcement officer, you are in violation of the law and will be arrested. Our law enforcement officers take an oath to protect the public.”

But here’s the problem with Bovino’s statement, and with the entire official narrative: Alex Pretti wasn’t arrested.

Despite being on the ground, outnumbered by agents at least five to one, and apparently disarmed, there seems to be no moment in the many videos of his death in which the officers speak of arrest. Though he was a member of the public—an American citizen—he wasn’t protected. He was shot by federal agents, over and over and over.

This isn’t about whether ICE has the authority to enforce immigration law. They do. This isn’t even primarily about immigration policy itself, though that’s a legitimate debate Christians can and should have with charity toward those who disagree.

This is about something more fundamental: What does it mean to exercise authority justly? What standards should govern those who govern us? And what is the church’s responsibility when authority becomes authoritarian?

These aren’t merely political questions. They’re theological ones. And the Bible has a lot to say about them.

THE APPEAL TO AUTHORITY: WHY IT’S NOT ENOUGH

The defenses of federal actions in Minnesota have consistently rested on appeals to authority. ICE has the authority to enforce immigration law. Officers have the authority to protect themselves. The administration has a mandate from voters to secure the border.

All of this is true. And all of it is insufficient.

Because here’s what these appeals fundamentally misunderstand: Authority is a responsibility, not an excuse.

It requires higher standards, not slapdash work and slipshod ethics. Authority is a duty, not a license. ICE has authority to act in Minnesota—that does not justify the way its agents are acting. Their authority makes this heavy-handed chaos all the more intolerable, not less.

This isn’t a novel concept. It’s not even particularly controversial outside our current political moment. The inextricable link between authority and responsibility is a fundamental principle of good governance, an assumption of our constitutional order embedded in concepts like checks and balances, due process, and the rule of law itself.

Our Constitution doesn’t just grant authority to government officials. It constrains that authority with responsibilities: to protect constitutional rights, to follow due process, to respect the separation of powers, to be accountable to the people. Authority without these constraints isn’t legitimate governance—it’s tyranny.

But more than a principle of good governance, the connection between authority and responsibility is a note that echoes throughout Scripture. From the Old Testament prophets to Jesus’ teachings to the apostolic letters, the Bible consistently presents a vision of authority that is inseparable from accountability, power that must be exercised with justice and restraint.

The biblical vision of authority stands in stark contrast to the Roman imperial model that dominated the ancient world—and that too often creeps into modern governance. In Rome, authority meant the right to command, to dominate, to be served. Power was its own justification. Might made right.

Jesus came to flip that entire system on its head. And the church, when it’s faithful to its calling, must continue that prophetic work today.

WHAT SCRIPTURE TEACHES ABOUT AUTHORITY

Authority as Stewardship

When Solomon becomes king, God appears to him in a dream and offers to give him whatever he asks. Solomon’s response reveals a profound understanding of authority: “Give your servant a discerning heart to govern your people and to distinguish between right and wrong, for who is able to govern this great people of yours?” (1 Kings 3:9).

God is pleased with this request precisely because Solomon recognizes that authority is not a privilege to be enjoyed but a responsibility to be stewarded. The text emphasizes that Solomon asks for wisdom “to govern”—not to enrich himself, not to consolidate power, not to be served, but to serve the people entrusted to his care.

This is the biblical pattern: Authority is always presented as stewardship, never as ownership. Leaders don’t possess power for their own benefit. They hold it in trust, accountable to God and responsible for those under their care.

Authority and Accountability

God’s word to the prophet Ezekiel drives this point home with sobering clarity. God tells Ezekiel that if he fails to warn the wicked, “I will hold you accountable for their blood” (Ezek. 33:8). The prophet’s authority to speak God’s word comes with the responsibility to speak it faithfully—and the accountability that follows failure.

Later in Ezekiel, God speaks through the prophet to condemn the shepherds of Israel who have abused their authority: “Woe to you shepherds of Israel who only take care of yourselves! Should not shepherds take care of the flock?” (34:2). These leaders had authority to shepherd God’s people, but they used that authority for self-enrichment and self-protection rather than for the care of those entrusted to them.

God’s judgment is severe: “I am against the shepherds and will hold them accountable for my flock. I will remove them from tending the flock so that the shepherds can no longer feed themselves” (34:10). Authority misused doesn’t just result in a slap on the wrist—it results in the removal of that authority and divine judgment for its abuse.

Jesus’ Radical Redefinition

When Jesus addresses authority, He doesn’t just refine the existing understanding—He revolutionizes it. In Matthew 20:25-28, after James and John ask for positions of honor in His kingdom, Jesus gathers the disciples and says:

“You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave—just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

This is revolutionary. In the Roman world, authority meant the right to be served. Jesus says that in His kingdom, authority means the responsibility to serve. The greatest authority is exercised by the greatest servant. Power is demonstrated not through domination but through self-giving love.

And Jesus doesn’t just teach this—He models it. The night before His crucifixion, He wraps a towel around His waist and washes His disciples’ feet, doing the work of the lowest servant. Then He says, “I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you” (John 13:15).

This is what authority looks like in God’s kingdom: not a license to dominate, but a call to serve; not an excuse for excess, but a demand for sacrifice.

Higher Standards for Those in Authority

The New Testament consistently emphasizes that those with greater authority face greater accountability. Jesus teaches that “from everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked” (Luke 12:48).

Paul writes that “it is required that those who have been given a trust must prove faithful” (1 Cor. 4:2). James warns, “Not many of you should become teachers, my fellow believers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly” (James 3:1).

The principle is clear: Authority doesn’t lower the bar—it raises it. Those in positions of power and influence are held to higher standards, not lower ones. They face stricter judgment, not more lenient treatment. Their authority makes their failures more consequential, not more excusable.

This biblical vision stands in stark contrast to how authority often functions in practice, where power becomes a shield against accountability rather than a summons to it. When leaders claim that their authority exempts them from scrutiny, when they use their position to avoid consequences rather than to serve faithfully, they’ve fundamentally misunderstood what biblical authority actually means.

WHEN AUTHORITY BECOMES AUTHORITARIAN

There’s a crucial distinction between authority and authoritarianism, and Minnesota helps us see it clearly.

Authority, rightly understood and exercised, operates within constraints. It respects due process. It exercises restraint. It remains accountable to law, to truth, and to the people it serves. It can be questioned, challenged, and held to account without those questions being treated as rebellion or disloyalty.

Authoritarianism, by contrast, treats power as self-justifying. It resists accountability. It conflates criticism with betrayal. It demands unquestioning loyalty. It uses force not as a last resort but as a first response. It sees restraint as weakness and accountability as threat.

The difference isn’t subtle, and the consequences aren’t minor.

When federal agents tear-gas infants, that’s not authority—that’s authoritarian excess. When peaceful clergy are arrested for providing pastoral care, that’s not law enforcement—that’s intimidation. When officials joke about putting citizens in databases for expressing dissent, that’s not governance—that’s tyranny, even if said in jest.

And when a citizen is shot multiple times, including three times in the back, while on the ground and outnumbered five to one, and officials respond by appealing to the authority of law enforcement rather than expressing horror at what appears to be an execution—that’s not justice. That’s the abuse of power hiding behind the language of authority.

The church has seen this pattern before. Throughout history, authoritarian regimes have always claimed legitimate authority. They’ve always insisted they’re acting for the common good, for national security, for law and order. They’ve always demanded that citizens simply trust them, obey them, let them do their job.

And throughout history, the church at its best has refused to accept those claims at face value. It has insisted on asking: Is this authority being exercised justly? Are the powerful being held accountable? Are the vulnerable being protected? Is force being used as a last resort or a first response?

These aren’t questions that undermine legitimate authority. They’re questions that distinguish legitimate authority from its authoritarian counterfeit. And they’re questions the church must continue to ask, regardless of which political party holds power.

THE CHURCH’S PROPHETIC RESPONSIBILITY

This brings us to perhaps the most uncomfortable question for many American Christians: What is the church’s responsibility when government authority is misused?

The answer isn’t simple, and it requires holding multiple truths in tension.

On one hand, Scripture clearly teaches respect for governing authorities. Romans 13 tells us that “there is no authority except that which God has established” and that rulers are “God’s servants” for our good. We’re called to honor those in authority, to pray for them, to be good citizens.

On the other hand, Scripture is filled with examples of God’s people speaking truth to power, challenging unjust rulers, and refusing to comply with ungodly commands. The Hebrew midwives defied Pharaoh’s order to kill Hebrew boys. Daniel refused to stop praying despite the king’s decree. Peter and John told the Sanhedrin, “We must obey God rather than human beings” (Acts 5:29).

The prophets consistently challenged the abuse of authority by Israel’s kings. Nathan confronted David. Elijah challenged Ahab. Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Amos all spoke God’s judgment against rulers who oppressed the poor, perverted justice, and used their power for personal gain rather than the common good.

Jesus Himself challenged both religious and political authorities. He called Herod “that fox” (Luke 13:32). He overturned tables in the temple. He refused to answer Pilate’s questions in ways that would legitimize unjust proceedings. And He was ultimately executed by the state for being a perceived threat to Roman authority.

The pattern is clear: Respect for authority doesn’t mean blind obedience or silent complicity when that authority is misused. It means holding leaders accountable to the standards of justice, truth, and righteousness that come from God Himself.

In our current moment, this means the church must be willing to say: Yes, ICE has authority to enforce immigration law. And no, that authority doesn’t justify tear-gassing infants, arresting clergy, or shooting citizens in the back.

It means being willing to support border security while condemning authoritarian tactics. It means being able to vote for a candidate while still holding that candidate’s administration accountable when it acts unjustly.

It means refusing to let political tribalism silence our prophetic voice or compromise our commitment to biblical justice.

WHAT THIS MEANS FOR US

So what does this mean practically for Christians trying to navigate these complex issues?

First, it means we must resist the temptation to defend the indefensible simply because “our side” is doing it. If we would condemn these tactics under a different administration, we must condemn them now. Our allegiance to Christ must trump our political allegiances.

Second, it means we must recover a robust theology of authority that holds power and accountability together. We need to teach our churches that authority is a responsibility, not an excuse—and that this applies to every sphere of life, from government to church leadership to parenting to the workplace.

Third, it means we must be willing to ask hard questions and demand answers. What happened in Minnesota? Why did it happen? Who is being held accountable? What changes are being made to prevent it from happening again? These aren’t disloyal questions—they’re the questions that legitimate authority should welcome, not resist.

Fourth, it means we must advocate for the vulnerable, even when it’s politically costly. The biblical mandate to care for “the least of these” doesn’t come with partisan exceptions. If immigrants, protesters, or even citizens who make mistakes are being treated unjustly, the church must speak up.

Fifth, it means we must pray—for wisdom, for justice, for those in authority, and for the courage to speak truth when it’s needed. This isn’t a substitute for action, but it’s the foundation for faithful action.

And finally, it means we must remember that our ultimate allegiance is to a kingdom “not of this world” (John 18:36)—a kingdom where authority looks like a servant washing feet, where power is demonstrated through self-giving love, and where the first will be last and the last will be first.

The events in Minnesota aren’t just about immigration policy. They’re about something more fundamental: What does it mean to exercise authority justly in a fallen world? How should power be constrained? Who holds the powerful accountable?

These are questions the church has wrestled with for two millennia, and they’re questions we must continue to wrestle with today—not from a place of partisan loyalty, but from a place of biblical faithfulness.

ICE has authority to enforce immigration law. That’s not in question. What’s in question is whether that authority is being exercised with the justice, restraint, and accountability that Scripture demands of all who hold power.

To demand far better of ICE than what we’ve seen in Minnesota neither ignores real hazards they face, nor debases their authority, nor even necessarily questions the politics that now direct them. It merely demands they wield their power with justice and restraint—and requires an accounting when they fail.

Because authority is a responsibility, not an excuse. It requires higher standards, not lower ones. It demands accountability, not immunity. And when those in authority forget this, the church must be willing to remind them—regardless of political cost, regardless of partisan pressure, regardless of whether it makes us popular or unpopular with the powers that be.

This is our prophetic calling. This is our biblical mandate. This is what faithfulness requires.

May God give us the wisdom to discern justice, the courage to speak truth, and the love to do both with grace.