What do Christians Believe about Illegal Immigration?

Start With the Word, Not Your Feelings

Let’s be honest—our emotions run high with topics like this. Whether it’s compassion for struggling families, anger about injustice, frustration with the system, or fear about what might happen to our country… we all feel something. And feelings aren’t bad. But they can’t lead.

As Christians, we don’t follow our feelings. We follow God’s Word.

Let the Bible Set the Tone

In 1 Peter 2:13–17, Peter lays out something that should stop every one of us in our tracks:

“Submit yourselves for the Lord’s sake to every human authority: whether to the emperor, as the supreme authority, or to governors, who are sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to commend those who do right... Show proper respect to everyone, love the family of believers, fear God, honor the emperor.”

This command wasn’t written in a free, democratic nation with fair courts and a constitution. It was written to Christians scattered under Roman rule. And not just any Roman rule—under the likely reign of Nero, one of the most violent, erratic, and ungodly emperors in human history. The same Nero who would later burn Christians alive and blame them for the fire in Rome.

Yet Peter doesn’t say, “Resist the emperor.”
He doesn’t say, “Obey only when it makes sense.”
He says, submit—for the Lord’s sake.

That’s a hard word. But it’s Bible.

Submission Is About Trusting God, Not Trusting Government

This is where we miss it. Submission isn’t about trusting the government to get it right. It’s about trusting God even when they get it wrong. That doesn’t mean we agree with unjust systems or blindly accept everything leaders say. But it does mean that when we can’t respect the person, we still honor the position—because God told us to.

That’s what Peter was trying to teach. That’s what Jesus modeled. Remember when Jesus stood before Pilate and said:

“You would have no authority over me at all unless it had been given you from above.” (John 19:11)

He didn’t fight. He didn’t beg. He didn’t rage. He submitted—even unto death. Why? Because His trust wasn’t in Rome. It was in His Father.

Our Theology Can’t Be Situational

One of the greatest dangers in the Church today is situational theology—when we apply Scripture selectively based on how we feel, who’s in office, or what fits our cause. We preach submission when we like the law, and we preach justice when we don’t. We throw out Romans 13 until it contradicts our politics. That’s not obedience. That’s manipulation.

If we’re going to call ourselves Bible-believing Christians, we have to be consistent. That means we don’t just quote the Word—we live it, even when it costs us. Even when it hurts.

So before we say, “It’s not fair,” or “This system is broken,” or “We just need to show grace,” let’s ask:
What does the Word actually say?

And what it says is clear: Submit to the authority God has allowed—for His sake.

Real Compassion Begins With Real Conviction

I want to love people well. I want to advocate for the hurting. But if I do that without standing on Scripture, then I’m building my compassion on sand. That’s not love—that’s sentiment.

And sentiment can’t hold up under the weight of truth.

The people we’re trying to help don’t just need our emotions. They need our conviction. They need to know that our compassion doesn’t come from social pressure or public outrage—but from a deep, immovable trust in God’s Word.

So that’s where we start.
Not with what feels right.
Not with what’s popular.
Not with what makes sense to us.

We start with the Word.

Rebellion Isn’t Righteousness

We need to say this clearly: breaking the law isn’t automatically a righteous act just because it’s wrapped in compassion or good intentions. We’re not living in an age where people are wrestling with obedience vs. sin—we’re living in a time where rebellion is being rebranded as virtue. But calling it virtue doesn’t make it holy.

Somewhere along the way, we’ve confused standing up for people with tearing down authority. But Scripture never gives us permission to rebel just because we feel like we’re right.

Obedience Doesn’t Always Feel Good

Let’s go back to the context of 1 Peter 2. Peter’s writing to Christians under Roman oppression. Their government was corrupt. Their religious freedoms were limited. Their culture was hostile. 

And Peter’s command? Submit.

Not because Caesar was righteous. But because God is.

Submission to authority—especially authority we don’t like—isn’t weakness. It’s worship. It’s us saying to God, “I trust that You’re sovereign, even over leaders who don’t honor You.”

And yes, there are moments when Christians are called to disobey men in order to obey God (Acts 5:29). But that disobedience is never flippant. It’s not self-serving. It’s not an emotional reaction. It’s done with reverence, humility, and a willingness to suffer the consequences.

Rebellion vs. Obedience

Let’s draw a line here—because there’s a difference between rebellion and obedience.

• Rebellion says, “I don’t recognize your authority and I won’t answer to you.”
• Obedience says, “I answer to a higher authority, and I’m prepared to face the consequences of my obedience to Him.”

One is rooted in pride. The other is rooted in submission to God.

Let’s not pretend those are the same thing.

Daniel refused to stop praying—even though it meant being thrown into the lions’ den. But he didn’t hide. He didn’t protest. He didn’t rally others to fight the king. He obeyed God and submitted to the penalty with peace and trust.

The Hebrew boys refused to bow to the idol—and they walked willingly into the fire.

Peter and John kept preaching Jesus—and they went straight to jail with joy on their faces.

God’s people have a long history of disobeying human law for the sake of a higher law—but they never did it with arrogance, entitlement, or bitterness. They didn’t demand their rights. They laid them down.

They were willing to suffer because they knew who their true King was.

Illegal Doesn’t Equal Unjust

Here’s where we have to be careful. Just because a person breaks a law out of desperation doesn’t mean the law itself is unjust. Compassion for someone’s situation doesn’t give us permission to ignore the system God has put in place.

If we start deciding which laws to honor based on whether or not we agree with them, then we’re not submitting to authority—we’re replacing it with ourselves.

That’s the heart of rebellion.

And before you say, “Yeah, but Jesus broke laws too,” let me stop you.

Jesus didn’t break the law—He fulfilled it. He called out corruption. He challenged religious hypocrisy. But He never disrespected civil authority. When asked if taxes should be paid to Caesar, He said, “Render to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s.” (Mark 12:17)

He never led a revolt. He never ran from judgment. He stood before Pilate silently and endured the cross.

Feelings Don't Justify Disobedience

It might feel right to resist. It might feel wrong to send someone back. It might feel like we’re failing to love people if we don’t fight the system on their behalf.

But feelings don’t justify disobedience.

God’s Word does. And His Word calls us to submit—to laws, to leaders, and most of all, to Him.

If we’re going to help people who are walking through immigration issues, we need to do it with clarity. We don’t help them by pretending rebellion is righteousness. We help them by walking with them through the hard road of accountability, submission, and faith.

That’s the gospel way.

You Can’t Justify Both

Here’s the bottom line—if you’re going to break the law, and still claim to follow Jesus, you better be ready to submit to the consequences. You cannot say, “I had to disobey” and then also say, “I don’t have to pay for it.”

That’s not how this works.

That’s not obedience. That’s self-justification.

It’s a dangerous thing to try and use the name of Jesus to excuse sin, rebellion, or lawlessness. If we’re going to walk in the tension between mercy and justice, we have to be honest with ourselves and with God. And that means asking hard questions.

The Two Questions Every Believer Must Answer

If someone is involved in illegal immigration—whether they’re the one crossing the border or the one advocating for it—there are two questions that must be answered before the Lord:

1. Is this law truly unjust or unbiblical enough that breaking it is necessary for me to honor God?
2. Am I willing to submit to the consequences of breaking that law?

If the answer is yes to the first, then the second answer must also be yes. That’s what biblical submission looks like in tension. If you say yes to breaking the law, but no to accepting the penalty, then you’re not walking in obedience—you’re walking in pride.

Obedience Without Accountability Is Incomplete

Let me give you an example:
If someone comes to Christ in prison, we rejoice. We say, “Thank You, Lord! You’ve redeemed what the enemy meant for evil.” But we don’t expect that person to be released the next day just because they’re saved. Redemption doesn’t mean release. It means peace in the process.

Salvation restores the soul. But justice still plays out in time.

That’s the framework we see in Scripture over and over again. Think about the thief on the cross. Jesus didn’t take him down from the cross. He took him home from the cross. The man submitted to his punishment while also surrendering to his Savior.

That’s what faith and repentance look like in the real world.

Onesimus Didn't Get a Free Pass

Let’s go back to Philemon. Onesimus had run away. That was illegal. He meets Paul, gets saved, becomes useful to the ministry—and Paul doesn’t say, “Great, now let’s forget the past.” No. He sends Onesimus back to Philemon.

Paul appeals for grace, yes. He asks Philemon to receive him not as a slave, but as a brother. But Paul still honors the system in place. He doesn’t try to get Onesimus out of it—he steps into it with him.

Paul says, “If he owes you anything, charge it to me.”

He didn’t try to erase the debt. He offered to pay it.

That’s the posture of gospel advocacy. Not, “He’s saved, so ignore the law.” But, “He’s saved, so I’m stepping in with him. I’ll walk with him. I’ll bear the cost.”

That’s the kind of Christian we’re called to be.

Someone Has to Pay

We want the person to be forgiven. We want them to be protected. We want them to have a chance. But if that means ignoring the rule of law and acting like there are no consequences, then we’re not offering the gospel—we’re offering cheap grace.

And grace is never cheap.

Grace costs someone everything. Either the person pays the price, or someone else steps in and absorbs it. But someone has to pay.

So if you’re going to advocate for someone in an illegal immigration situation, go all the way. Don’t just post about injustice. Don’t just write a letter. Be willing to do what Paul did—step in, stand beside them, and say, “If there’s a cost to be paid, I’ll help pay it.”

But don’t pretend obedience and evasion can live together. You can’t justify both. That’s not how Jesus lived. That’s not how His followers are called to live either.

The Gospel in the Book of Philemon

If you want to see how grace and justice work together without canceling each other out, you need to read Philemonslowly. It’s a short letter. You can read it in five minutes. But it holds more gospel theology than most sermons can do in an hour.

This letter isn’t a theological treatise—it’s personal. It’s written from one man of God to another, about a real situation involving real people. And that’s why it’s so relevant to this conversation.

Let me break it down.

Onesimus Was a Fugitive

Onesimus was a slave who had run away from his master, Philemon. Now, before we try to map modern American slavery onto Roman slavery, understand this: Roman slavery wasn’t based on race, but it was still a brutal and dehumanizing system. And in that system, a runaway slave could face serious punishment—beatings, imprisonment, even death.

Onesimus broke the law. There’s no debate about that.

But somewhere along the line, by what can only be the providence of God, Onesimus ends up with Paul. And not just with Paul—but in Christ.

He gets saved.

He becomes a believer. He becomes a brother. He serves Paul, grows under his mentorship, and proves himself to be useful—his name, Onesimus, literally means “useful.” And now Paul has a decision to make.

He could hide him. He could keep him. He could justify it.

But he doesn’t.

Paul Sends Him Back

This is the part that wrecks me.

Paul sends Onesimus back to Philemon.

Not because he’s siding with the Roman system. Not because he’s affirming slavery. But because the gospel never dodges accountability—it redeems it.

Paul understands something we often forget: real reconciliation doesn’t happen when we run from the mess—it happens when we face it, in Christ.

So Paul writes Philemon and pleads:

“Receive him back—not as a slave, but as a beloved brother.”
(Philemon 1:16)

He’s saying, “Yes, he wronged you. Yes, the law is on your side. But now you both belong to Jesus. So deal with this as brothers in the Lord.”

And then Paul puts action behind his words in saying:

“If he has wronged you at all or owes you anything, charge that to my account.”
(Philemon 1:18)

That’s the gospel in a sentence.

Paul didn’t pretend nothing happened. He didn’t try to erase Onesimus’ debt with words. He offered to pay it himself. That’s what grace looks like when it walks into the courtroom and stands beside the guilty.

That’s what Jesus did for you and me.

The Gospel Doesn’t Ignore Consequences. It Enters Into Them.

Too many Christians today want to fight for people by skipping over the hard part. We want to post the hashtag. We want to write the letter. But we don’t want to step into the story and say, “If there’s a cost, I’ll pay it. If there’s shame, I’ll carry it. If there’s a penalty, I’ll walk with them through it.”

That’s what Paul did. And that’s what Jesus did.

Jesus didn’t just advocate for you from heaven. He came down. He took on flesh. He stood in your place. And when the debt of your sin came due, He didn’t cancel the payment—He paid it in full with His own blood.

This is why we can’t twist the gospel to mean “no consequences.” Because someone always pays.

The gospel doesn’t offer escape from justice. It offers restoration in the midst of it.

How This Applies to Illegal Immigration

Let’s bring it full circle.

If someone has crossed a border illegally, and now they’ve come to faith in Christ, praise God. But the next step isn’t to hide them from the consequences. The next step is discipleship—walking with them through the process of accountability, trusting God with the outcome, and helping them live with integrity as a new creation in Christ.

And if God’s calling you to help—like He did with Paul—then help for real.

• Write the letter.
• Offer to pay the fine.
• Plead for mercy, not exemption.
• And be ready to walk with that person through the process—not just around it.

You don’t love someone well by pretending sin doesn’t cost anything. You love them by showing them that Jesus paid the highest price—and because of that, they can face whatever comes next with courage and peace.

Justice and Mercy Are Not Enemies

If there’s anything we’ve lost in the modern Church, it’s the ability to hold two truths in tension.

We’re either justice people or mercy people. We either stand for truth or we stand with the hurting. But very few of us know how to do both. We quote Micah 6:8 like a slogan:

“He has shown you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God?”

But we rarely live it in balance.

Some of us are so focused on justice that we forget mercy even exists. We want laws followed, rules enforced, and order kept. But we forget that people are more than their paperwork. We forget that God didn’t just hand out commandments—He put on flesh and dwelled among the broken.

Others of us are so focused on mercy that we ignore truth altogether. We say, “But they’re hurting,” or “But their intentions were good,” as if that’s all that matters. We want to be kind, but at the expense of what’s right. We forget that God is not just a Father—He’s also a Judge.

But here’s the truth: God never asked us to choose between justice and mercy. He told us to walk in both.

Look at the Cross

If you want to see how justice and mercy work together, just look at the cross.

The cross wasn’t just a symbol of love. It was a symbol of justice being carried out. Jesus didn’t die to erase justice—He died to fulfill it. Your sins weren’t waved off. They were paid for. The punishment didn’t disappear—it was absorbed by the Son of God.

So when we say, “God is merciful,” we mean He’s merciful because He’s just. And when we say, “God is just,” we mean He’s just because He’s merciful. Those two aren’t opposites. They’re married at Calvary.

Now take that truth, and walk it into the immigration conversation.

Don't Let Compassion Become Compromise

Compassion is a beautiful thing. Jesus was full of it. He wept at tombs. He embraced the outcast. He touched the leper. He fed the hungry. He saw people that society overlooked.

But He never compromised truth to make them feel better.

• He told the rich young ruler to sell everything.
• He told the woman caught in adultery, “Go and sin no more.”
• He told Peter, “Get behind me, Satan.”
• He told entire cities that judgment was coming if they didn’t repent.

Jesus was the most compassionate man to ever walk the earth—and He never lied to make people feel safe in their sin.

So if we think the gospel means helping people avoid the consequences of sin or lawbreaking, we’re not showing mercy—we’re enabling destruction.

Mercy without truth is not love. It’s cowardice.

And truth without mercy isn’t holiness—it’s cruelty.

A Word for Both Sides

If you're someone who leans heavy on justice, hear this: People matter. Their pain matters. Their stories matter. We are called to care. We are called to listen. We are called to see them, not just their offenses.

But if you're someone who leans heavy on mercy, hear this: Truth matters. Order matters. Laws matter. And if we encourage people to ignore the systems God has put in place, then we’re not loving them. We’re helping them walk into judgment.

We need to be people who hold both tightly.

• Who say “yes” to upholding the law
• While saying “yes” to walking with the broken
• Who call people to accountability
• While stepping into their mess with grace

This is how Jesus did it.
This is how Paul did it.
And this is how we are called to do it.

What Should We Do?

At this point, some people might still be asking, “Okay, I hear all that—but what am I supposed to do?” Maybe you know someone facing deportation. Maybe you’re mentoring a student who came here illegally with their parents. Maybe someone in your church is quietly navigating the immigration process in fear.

Here’s the good news: You don’t have to guess how to respond.

The Word of God doesn’t just tell us what to believe. It shows us how to live.

Here are a few things I believe we must do as Christians navigating the issue of illegal immigration.

1. Tell the Truth

Start with truth. Always.

Tell the truth about the law. Don’t act like it doesn’t exist. Don’t twist it. Don’t ignore it because it feels inconvenient. If someone entered illegally, don’t sugarcoat it. And if someone broke the law and is now afraid of the consequences, don’t promise them protection you can’t give.

Truth is the foundation of trust. If we lose that, we lose everything.

2. Walk in Compassion

Truth doesn't mean coldness. If someone is in the wrong, and they know it, the worst thing we can do is throw shame on top of fear. That’s not justice. That’s condemnation.

Look them in the eye and say, “I know this is hard. But you don’t have to face it alone.” That’s what Jesus does for us, and that’s what we should do for others.

We don’t abandon people because they made a wrong choice. We disciple them through the consequences.

3. Advocate with Integrity

If God’s placed someone on your heart to advocate for—then advocate. But do it the right way.

• Write to your representative.
• Learn the process.
• Help them get legal assistance.
• Go with them to court.
• Speak up for mercy, but don’t pretend justice isn’t part of the process.

And don’t just advocate with your voice—advocate with your life. Say what Paul said: “If he owes anything, charge it to me.” That’s gospel-shaped love.

4. Be Willing to Carry the Cost

If you’re going to stand in the gap for someone, understand something—it might cost you.

It might cost you time.
It might cost you money.
It might cost you relationships.
It might even cost your reputation in some circles.

But that’s what gospel love does. It steps in. It pays the price. It doesn’t just say, “I’m praying for you.” It says, “I’m walking through this with you.”

Remember what Jesus said?

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (John 15:13)

That’s the standard.

5. Call People to Submission, Not Just Survival

If someone comes to Christ after breaking the law, don’t just celebrate their salvation. Call them into the next step of obedience—submission.

Submission doesn’t mean giving up. It means trusting God through the process. That could mean turning yourself in. That could mean cooperating with immigration authorities. That could mean preparing to go back and rebuild your life from a different country—as a disciple of Jesus.

That’s not weakness. That’s courage. That’s faith.

6. Preach the Full Gospel

Don’t preach a gospel that promises freedom without repentance.

Don’t preach a gospel that says, “Jesus paid it all, so you never have to face consequences.”

Preach the gospel that says: “Jesus paid it all—so now you can face this with hope, with peace, and with the assurance that whatever happens, your eternity is secure.”

Remind them: Someone did pay the ultimate price. Jesus stood in our place. He took the wrath. He bore the shame. And now He calls us to walk the narrow road—not the easy road. The right one.

Final Word

Illegal immigration is not just a political debate. It’s a discipleship issue. It’s a test of whether we really believe the Word of God is true, even when it’s hard. It’s a test of whether we’ll hold justice and mercy in tension, the same way God does. And it’s a test of whether we’re willing to pay the cost for someone else, just like Jesus did for us.

So how do Christians respond to illegal immigration?

• With truth.
• With grace.
• With humility.
• With submission.
• With the cross as our model.

We don’t ignore the law. We don’t pretend consequences don’t matter. And we don’t run from messy stories. We step in, we speak up, and when needed, we say, “If there’s a cost, charge it to me.”

That’s what Jesus did.
That’s what Paul did.
That’s what we’re called to do.