In Springfield, Ohio, we are living through a moment that feels both ancient and urgently modern. More than 10,000 Haitian men, women, and children now call our city home — a city of only 54,000. They have come here fleeing violence, political collapse, and a humanitarian crisis that most Americans will never see firsthand.
PHOTO CREDIT: The Rev. Carl Ruby, center, and other church representatives hug members of the Haitian community during a service at Central Christian Church in Springfield, Ohio, on Sunday, Sept. 15, 2024. (RNS photo/Kathryn Post)
In Springfield, Ohio, we are living through a moment that feels both ancient and urgently modern. More than 10,000 Haitian men, women, and children now call our city home — a city of only 54,000. They have come here fleeing violence, political collapse, and a humanitarian crisis that most Americans will never see firsthand. They have come seeking safety, stability, and the chance to raise their children without fear. And now, as Temporary Protected Status (TPS) is set to expire, they find themselves once again standing on the edge of danger.
For many of us in Springfield’s faith community, this is not an abstract policy debate. These are our neighbors. Our coworkers. Our children’s classmates. Our fellow worshipers. They are the people we pray with, laugh with, and break bread with. And as the deadline for TPS approaches, they are the people who are once again afraid.
I’ve written elsewhere about the importance of remembering that Jesus Himself was a refugee — a child whose family fled political violence. But as TPS nears its end, I find myself returning not only to the flight into Egypt, but to the story that made that flight necessary: the Slaughter of the Innocents.It is one of the most painful stories in Scripture. Herod, threatened by the birth of a child he could not control, unleashed violence on the most vulnerable. Families fled. Mothers wept. The land was filled with fear. And into that terror, God entered — not as a distant observer, but as a child whose life was in danger.
The Gospel writers do not sanitize this story. They do not soften it. They tell it because it reveals something essential: God chooses to be found among those who are running for their lives.
When I look at the Haitian families in Springfield, I see echoes of that story. Parents who have carried their children across borders and oceans. Families who have left everything familiar behind because staying meant death. People who have endured trauma most of us cannot imagine — and who now face the possibility of being sent back into the very violence they escaped.
TPS was created for moments like this. It is a recognition that sometimes the world becomes too dangerous for people to return home. It is a moral commitment to protect life when life is at risk. And for Haitians, life is undeniably at risk. Reports from human rights organizations describe a nation overwhelmed by gang violence, kidnappings, political instability, and the collapse of basic infrastructure. Many neighborhoods are controlled not by the government but by armed groups. Schools are closed. Hospitals are unsafe. Families live under constant threat.
To send people back into that is not simply a policy choice. It is a moral one.
In Springfield, we have seen firsthand what happens when people are given safety. Haitian families have revitalized neighborhoods, filled our schools with children’s laughter, strengthened our workforce, and enriched our churches with vibrant faith. They have brought new life to a city that has known its share of struggle. They have become part of us.
And yet, as TPS approaches its expiration, fear is spreading. Parents worry about being separated from their children. Workers fear losing their jobs. Students fear losing their future. The anxiety is palpable — not because these families have done anything wrong, but because the protections that allowed them to rebuild their lives may soon disappear.
As Christians, we cannot ignore this moment. We cannot look away from the fear in our neighbors’ eyes. We cannot pretend that the Gospel has nothing to say about families fleeing violence. The story of Jesus’ early life tells us otherwise.
When Joseph was warned in a dream to flee, he did not hesitate. He gathered his family and ran. And God did not rebuke him for leaving. God did not tell him to stay and endure. God did not say, “This is not your land.” Instead, God guided him to safety. God protected the vulnerable. God stood with the refugee.
If we take the red letters of Jesus seriously, then we must take seriously the people whose lives mirror His own story.
The Slaughter of the Innocents is not just a historical tragedy. It is a warning about what happens when political power is valued more than human life. It is a reminder that violence against the vulnerable is not new. And it is a call to God’s people to stand where God stands — with those who are at risk.
Extending TPS for Haitians is not merely an act of compassion. It is an act of faithfulness. It is a recognition that protecting life is more important than political calculation. It is a refusal to allow fear to dictate our response to people who are already afraid. It is a way of saying, “We remember the story. We know where Jesus stands. And we choose to stand there too.”
In Springfield, we are preparing for a gathering called Here We Stand: Faith Leaders for Immigration Justice & Family Unity. It will come at the end of a seven‑day fast led by the Interdenominational Ministerial Fellowship. We will pray. We will march. We will speak publicly about the moral urgency of this moment. And we will plan together for how to support our Haitian neighbors in the days ahead.
But this is not only a Springfield story. It is a Gospel story. It is a story about who we are as followers of Jesus and how we respond when the vulnerable among us are threatened.
When Herod unleashed violence, God did not remain silent. God acted. God protected. God stood with the innocent.
Now it is our turn.
We cannot stop every act of violence in the world. We cannot solve every crisis. But we can refuse to participate in policies that place families in danger. We can refuse to send people back into harm’s way. We can refuse to let fear dictate our response to those who are already afraid.
And we can insist — loudly, clearly, and faithfully — that extending TPS for Haitians is the right thing to do.
Not because it is politically convenient. Not because it benefits our economy. Not even because it strengthens our community, though it does.
We do it because Jesus was a refugee.
We do it because God stands with the vulnerable.
We do it because the innocents are in our city, and their lives matter.
And when the innocents are at risk, the people of God must stand up.
Here we stand.
