Something I have been grappling with lately is the notion that Christian love is passive. As Americans scroll through news alerts and social media feeds today, many are witnessing acts of governmental violence that raise urgent questions about what faith, justice, and moral action truly require.

Reports describe government agents detaining Black and Brown residents labeled “illegal aliens.” For me, it’s a term that strips people of identity and dignity. The term “illegal” is defined as not authorized by law, statute, regulation, or official rules. The label suggests the person is worthy of punishment. The word “alien”, defined by Webster as belonging to a foreign country or nation, carries a negative tone. It casts someone as an outsider, a label that is sometimes applied to something non-human.

So, it’s not surprising that politicians are putting on record that they’ve seen detained individuals chained, forced to sleep on concrete floors, and children separated from their parents in immigration detention centers.

Recently, I listened to testimony from a disabled woman who told members of Congress how she was pulled from her car by ICE agents in Minneapolis and taken into custody. She described hearing officers refer to detained people as “bodies,” not human beings.
“We got a body over here.”
“We rounded up more bodies.”

The language alone was chilling.

All of this is unfolding during Black History Month, a time meant for reflection. It is impossible not to draw parallels to the period before the Civil War, when enslaved Black people were legally classified as property. Black bodies were used as tools for labor and profit. And many enslavers claimed to be Christians, insisting their actions aligned with the teachings of Christ and “love.” History tells us otherwise.

As a preacher’s kid, I find this contradiction deeply disturbing.

When Love Is Misunderstood as Passive

When I went to Sunday school as a kid, I remember lessons about turning the other cheek, and love for your enemy. The lessons encouraged a passive reaction to aggressive negative action. It was clear from every lesson in church, we were supposed to show kindness, even when others were not kind. Show love when others were not loving.

And I am not alone. For generations, Christian teachings on love and peace have often been presented as passive—soft, compliant, and non-confrontational. Yet history challenges that framing. If men like Robert Smalls had embraced passivity, the Civil War—and the abolition of slavery—might not have unfolded as it did.  It is important to understand that slavery was violent and filled with brutality, rape and lynchings. It was not voluntary.

Smalls was an enslaved man who was allowed certain privileges. He was not a theologian debating resistance from a pulpit. He was a sailor, a laborer, and later a statesman. His life became a living argument that faith, when tested, must move.

Robert Smalls: Faith That Acted

In 1862, Smalls orchestrated a daring escape of nearly 20 people aboard a Confederate ship, the Planter. Historical accounts note, that he prayed before departure echoing the biblical Exodus narrative. Smalls believed God’s presence did not remove danger; it provided courage within it.

What set him apart was not only that he acted, but how. Smalls did not flee alone. He took his wife, his children, and the families of his crew, knowing that every delay increased the risk of death. For him, faith was not waiting to be saved; it was recognizing opportunity and stepping forward. Faith was active, not passive.

After securing freedom, Smalls recruited thousands of Black men into the Union Army. This was not passive resistance. The men took up arms. He challenged the lie of inferiority imposed by slavery. He essentially told Black men if he could outthink and outmaneuver supporters of the Confederacy, so could they. God opened the door, but his human hands had to turn the wheel.

Action Beyond Violence: Expanding “Active Love”

That same moral logic confronts us today. Many people recoil at the thought of physical violence, yet history suggests that inaction can be just as harmful. Active love does not begin with force—it begins with intention, alignment, and collective will.

We see this today in organized resistance, legal challenges, economic pressure, and coordinated moral action. These efforts interrupt harm without surrendering conscience. Even science reinforces what faith has long suggested: thought precedes action, and shared intention reshapes outcomes. The moral question is not whether one feels peaceful, but whether injustice is allowed to proceed unchecked.

Love That Moves History Forward

In The First Eight, James Clyburn argues that without Smalls’ daring escape, the Civil War might not have ended the way it did. Smalls later became one of the First Eight Black congressmen from South Carolina and played a critical role during Reconstruction—a period whose gains were later violently dismantled and deliberately erased.

So what does this teach us now? Our actions matter.

For Christians especially, love and peace have never meant passivity in the face of injustice. History shows us that love which refuses to act does not preserve peace—it permits injustice to grow.

Learn More

• Watch ERASED: The Robert Smalls Story
  👉 https://youtu.be/-MWiO_FA_I0
• Read The First Eight: A Personal History of the Pioneering Black Congressmen Who Shaped a Nation by James Clyburn
  👉 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DTBS2J8D/?tag=thecolorbetwe-20

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• ERASED Series – Robert Smalls Episode: (insert URL)
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