by As we celebrate Juneteenth—the day in 1865 when enslaved Black Americans in Galveston, Texas, finally learned of their emancipation—we honor the long arc of Black resistance, hope, and liberation. Juneteenth reminds us that freedom, once delayed, is still worth claiming. That dignity, once denied, must be restored. It’s a day to remember the resilience of those who lived through the trauma of slavery, and to renew our commitment to racial justice today.
Yet even as we honor that history, we must also draw near to those facing oppression in our own time. Today, many of our immigrant neighbors are experiencing fear and displacement. ICE raids, threats of deportation, and a growing militarization of neighborhoods are leaving families torn and communities shaken. Just as Juneteenth calls us to remember the pain of delayed justice, this moment calls us to recognize where dignity is still being denied—and to act.
In Luke 10, Jesus tells the story of the Good Samaritan—a man who crossed boundaries of religion, ethnicity, and fear to help someone beaten and left for dead. He didn’t wait for the perfect solution. He started with what he had: oil, wine, time, and money. He saw. He was moved. He acted.
This story shows us that radical change doesn’t always begin with grand plans—it begins with proximity. With drawing near. With refusing to look away. With choosing solidarity over apathy.
Now more than ever, we need to be like the sons of Issachar—those who “understood the times…” and responded accordingly (1 Chronicles 12:32). To understand the times means we do not look away from suffering. It means we recognize the weight our immigrant siblings are carrying and respond not with silence, but with presence. Like the Samaritan, and like Christ, we enter into the pain and suffering of the people of our time. We draw near not out of pity, but out of shared humanity and Spirit-led conviction.
As CCD practitioners, we are called to be people of the roadside. We are called to disrupt systems not only with protest, but with presence. Whether you’re organizing around Juneteenth celebrations, or standing with immigrant families today, know this: these acts—showing up, marching in the streets, sharing resources, refusing to pass by—are building something bigger than we can see.
So as we mark Juneteenth this year, may we not only remember the road already traveled but recommit ourselves to the roads still ahead. Let us become the kind of neighbors who don’t just believe in freedom—but embody it, extend it, and defend it.
Because the same Spirit that stirred the hearts of the enslaved to hope, and the Samaritan to cross the road, is alive in us still.
Let’s draw near. Let’s not pass by.
Let’s build the Kin-dom of God—one neighbor, one act, one small win at a time.
