The question grabs me: “What do you fight for?” But my heart pipes up, “That’s not my first question!” Rather: “Who do I fight for?” Who has God placed in my path and needs me to stand with them?

For a long time now, I have understood myself as an accompanier of people who are struggling. And that includes me. I have learned to let God, through others, come accompany me, too. It is a two-way street.

I fight for others who are my kin in God’s beloved kin-dom.

And I fight with them — for a dignified life as one created in the image of God: for things like stable shelter, enough food and water, safety, access to assistance and the loving support of a beloved community.

I live in the borderlands of Mexico and the United States, on the traditional lands of the Tohono O’odham peoples, in Tucson, Ariz. As I write this, Congress has just approved spending taxpayer money for massive increases in Immigration and Customs Enforcement hires and construction of more detention prisons.

This expansion of ICE, along with disappearing human rights and due- process protections, means that people in my faith community and my neighbors are in danger of being deported or imprisoned. Our elected leaders have made no meaningful immigration reform to help undocumented people adjust their status since 1986.

And the international human right of asylum? The asylum door is now closed to new arrivals at the border. The door also slammed shut to refugee resettlement.

The current administration is also attacking our trans siblings. Our local healthcare clinic recently ended a top-ranked medical program caring for trans youth because of threats to cut federal funding.
I fight for Jan (all names have been changed), a trans sister I love who now cannot get a passport with her new name on it.

I fight for Marcus, a gentle father, grandfather and landscaper who has lived in this community for over 30 years, who cares for others and lives in constant anxiety about being taken away from his family.

I fight for Maria, a 17-year-old who crossed the border with her mother two years ago on a U.S. Customs and Border Protection One app appointment ask­ing for asylum. This family carefully followed all the rules of entry of the previous administration — and, even so, received a terrifying email in May that all those who came to the U.S. through CBP One are no longer welcome to stay and should leave immediately. This threw Maria into panic attacks.

I fight for Alin, who fled her home because of partner violence so abusive that he hunted her down everywhere until she entered this country with her children, pleading for safety.

How do I fight, and with what tools? I have discovered that the sacred presence, creativity and resourcefulness of a loving community is the most powerful asset I can bring to this struggle. I spend a lot of time building community, welcoming people who have felt alone and learning how to become a vulnerable and interculturally sensitive community member myself.

I have experienced the joy of a beloved community building a housing program for asylum-seeking families. I have experienced the joy of a beloved community growing in its capacity to welcome LGBTQ+ siblings. And of a beloved community that is grateful for a sister who is trans and is willing to share her spiritual gifts to lead us.

I fight for and with these resilient and marginalized people — and many more — in and with a beloved community. When those who hold power call these siblings in Christ terrible names and threaten to deport or imprison them and deny health care to them, we say “no.” When those who hold power demean the self-understanding that trans people hold and try to erase their identities, we say “no.”

We will stand with them and share what is needed with them. We will learn from their stories because they are kin to us, part of God’s beautiful family.

This struggle for human rights will soon get even tougher. We will need to take more risks and figure out new and creative ways to protect each other. I trust that the Spirit of life and love, the Spirit of the risen Jesus, living also in us, will help us do this (Romans 8:11).

The Spirit of the risen Jesus roars like the mighty waters of justice, as the prophet Amos proclaimed. The Spirit of the risen Jesus pours out on a crowd of believers, kindling flames of fire within them, as at Pentecost. The Spirit of the risen Jesus speaks truth to tyrants.

A local community organizer Salvadoran friend, Dora, ends her messages to me with the words, juntas en la lucha (together in the struggle). Decades ago, Dora almost died of thirst in the Sonoran Desert while crossing the border seeking safety. She has dedicated her life to accompanying migrant families at the border.

With Dora — and other kin whom God has placed on my life path — I fight for the safety, healing and well-being God wants for each of us. I fight for the way of Jesus’ love. We will find the way by walking together — juntos en la lucha.

Tina Schlabach recently retired as co-pastor of Shalom Mennonite Fellowship in Tucson, Ariz., and now is part of the leadership team of Casa Cardo, a housing program for asylum-seeking mothers with children. Bringing her joy these days are friendships, family, walking in nature, bird songs, morning coffee and good books.