OPINION/EDITORIAL
By Pastor Bobby Richard
Sacred Space in a Loud World
If there were one truly safe place left on the planet—one sacred space you’d hope could still exist untouched—you’d think it would be here. A place where the noise finally hushes. Where the pace slows. Where nobody is selling you anything, tracking you, pushing an algorithm into your face, or force-feeding you opinions and ads you never asked for. A place where your phone can stay silent, your shoulders can drop, and your soul can finally exhale.
Let’s be honest. It doesn’t matter if you live out in the country, in a small town, or you’re doing the city-life thing—life is loud. It’s parents juggling schedules like an Olympic sport: work pressure, deadlines, school drop-offs, soccer practice on one side of town, a recital on the other, dinner that still has to happen somehow, laundry that never ends, and a mental checklist that never shuts off. It’s the constant pull, the constant pressure, the feeling that you’re always late to something and behind on everything. And by the time Sunday comes, you’re not looking for another argument, another agenda, or another interruption—you’re just looking for a moment of peace. Right?
That’s why the local church matters so much. It’s the place we gather to worship. The place shaped by the presence of Jesus. A sacred space filled with peace, joy, hope, family, laughter, community, and the steadying clarity that comes from hearing the Word of God. It’s where the Kingdom of God isn’t debated or disrupted—but experienced. It’s the place where we’ll argue about lunch plans later—but not during worship.
What Happened?
That’s why what unfolded on Sunday morning, January 18, 2026, at Cities Church in St. Paul, Minnesota stopped so many of us in our tracks. At approximately 10:40 a.m., worship was interrupted when a group of protesters—reportedly 30 to 40 individuals led and organized by civil rights attorney and activist Nekima Levy Armstrong—entered the sanctuary and disrupted the service. Their chants and interruption were directed in protest of one of the church’s pastors, David Easterwood, who also serves as the acting field director for U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) in the Twin Cities area. Protesters alleged that his dual roles raised moral and ethical concerns, and their actions halted worship and drew national attention. At least three of the protesters were later arrested on federal charges related to interfering with religious worship, and the incident sparked investigations and public debate about protest, sacred space, and religious freedom.
Anchors in a Moment of Tension
Regardless of your initial reaction to what happened—whether it stirred anger, sadness, agreement, discomfort, or a mix of all of it—and regardless of where you land on immigration policy, law enforcement, protest, or authority, there are a few ground realities followers of Jesus have to hold steady. These aren’t political talking points or emotional reactions. They’re not shaped by headlines or social media feeds. They are principles that matter no matter what side of the issue someone finds themselves on—truths that anchor us when emotions run high and perspectives differ.
What Protest Reveals
First, we have to be honest about what a moment like this reveals. When people feel compelled to protest—especially when they step into a worship service—it speaks to the magnitude of pain and desperation in the human heart. Nobody does something like that casually. Somewhere underneath the chants, the signs, and the disruption is a cry that sounds something like this: Please see this pain. Please recognize this suffering. Please help fix what feels broken. Often, that pain is personal. Sometimes it’s empathetic—carried on behalf of someone they love or someone whose suffering they’ve taken to heart. Either way, protest is rarely born out of indifference; it’s usually born out of hurt that hasn’t found healing yet—and we will never rightly address anything that is unruly, out of order, or disruptive unless we are first willing to acknowledge the pain beneath it.
Healing Cannot Come Through Disorder
And at the same time—and this matters just as much—we will never bring true healing to anybody’s suffering if we allow our own pain, bitterness, or agitation to hijack the moment. Unhealed pain, when stirred and exploited, often becomes fuel for an unbridled tongue—and Scripture is clear about how dangerous that can be. James writes, “The tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things. How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire… it is a restless evil, full of deadly poison” (James 3:5–8). When pain goes unhealed and words go unchecked, the result is rarely clarity or healing—it’s usually more fire, more division, and deeper wounds.
A Pastoral Perspective: A Better Way
What makes this moment especially sobering is that one of the organizers of the protest is herself an ordained minister and itinerant preacher. In interviews following the incident, Reverend Armstrong spoke candidly about her convictions, but also acknowledged that she did not attempt to contact Pastor Easterwood personally before leading a protest that interrupted worship. That detail matters—not as a point of accusation, but because it brings us to a deeper and more important question: Is there a better way for followers of Jesus to respond when conviction and conflict collide?
Scripture answers that question with clarity. Writing to a divided and conflicted church, the apostle Paul concludes a long discussion about rights, gifts, and disagreements by saying, “And yet I will show you a more excellent way” (1 Corinthians 12:31). He then leads directly into what we know as the love chapter—not as poetry for weddings, but as a corrective for how believers handle tension, disagreement, and offense. Before strategies, before statements, before public actions, Paul points us to love as the governing principle—the way that reflects Christ most clearly.
So what is a faithful response when pain, protest, and conflict collide like this? The gospel doesn’t answer that question with slogans or sides, but with a way of living. Scripture tells us that “God reconciled us to Himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation” (2 Corinthians 5:18). That calling isn’t reserved for pastors or church leaders—it belongs to everyone who belongs to Jesus. Reconciliation isn’t about keeping score or winning arguments; it’s about removing what separates us so restored relationship becomes possible.
Jesus didn’t leave us guessing about how that reconciliation is meant to work. He spoke plainly. If someone has offended you, He says, go to them directly—person to person, not platform to platform (Matthew 18:15). If that conversation doesn’t bring resolution, bring a trusted third party to help mediate. If reconciliation still isn’t possible, then the matter moves to the care and discernment of church leadership. The rhythm is intentional: private before public, relationship before reaction, restoration before exposure.
The New Testament echoes that same posture. The apostle Paul challenges the church to handle its own conflicts with wisdom and humility, asking why believers would rush to public judgment when the community of faith should be capable of pursuing peace and understanding (1 Corinthians 6:1–7). His concern isn’t legal—it’s spiritual. Public conflict reshapes the witness of the church, while quiet reconciliation protects it.
Scripture consistently calls us toward peace as the goal. “Seek peace and pursue it,” the psalmist writes (Psalm 34:14), reminding us that peace doesn’t happen accidentally—it is chosen. That pursuit begins with humility, because “where there is strife, there is pride” (Proverbs 13:10). Healing almost always requires someone to lay down the need to be right in order to protect relationship. It requires listening—really knowing one another—and honoring those who labor among us, as Paul urges the church to do (1 Thessalonians 5:12; 1 Timothy 5:17). When that posture shapes us, the question shifts from Who’s wrong? to How can I help bring healing in a way that reflects Christ? And more often than not, when conversations happen before demonstrations and humility comes before headlines, pain has a real chance to be heard and healed—quietly, relationally, and in a way that preserves the witness Jesus said would mark His disciples: “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35).
When All Else Fails- Church Security?
We can pray for peace, pursue reconciliation, and do everything Scripture calls us to do—and still have moments where not everyone plays by the same rules. Most of the time, church is safe and sacred. It’s the place where shoulders drop and souls exhale. But when disruption moves from a concern to a reality, the questions stop being theoretical and become very practical. What do we do when all else fails? Do churches still have a divine responsibility to protect the people God has placed in their care? And do they have the legal right to safeguard what is sacred?
The Bible actually gives us clear guidance here. Scripture reminds us that worship is meant to be conducted “decently and in order” (1 Corinthians 14:40), and that those entrusted with leadership are called to shepherd and protect the people in their care (Acts 20:28; 1 Peter 5:2–3). At the same time, the Bible consistently instructs us to respect and cooperate with governing authorities, recognizing their role in maintaining order and protecting the common good (Romans 13:1–4; 1 Peter 2:13–17). Taken together, these passages point us toward a balanced responsibility—not driven by fear, but guided by wisdom—to preserve a safe and uninterrupted worship environment.
When approached biblically, church security is not about suspicion or control. It’s about stewardship. It’s simply saying, We love people enough to think ahead. We value worship enough to protect it. And we care deeply about the safety of those God has placed in our care.
So what does that look like in real life?
First, draft and publish a clear church security policy. Every church should have a written, thoughtful plan that defines how disruptions are handled, who is responsible for what, and how decisions are made in real time. Clarity brings calm. A clear policy allows pastors to pastor, volunteers to serve, and congregations to worship without confusion or panic.
Second, recruit and develop a security team as a ministry. Church security should never feel like a private police force. It should be a ministry staffed by mature, godly men and women who understand that their role is to serve, protect, and de-escalate with wisdom and restraint. When security is framed as ministry, it reflects the heart of Christ—strong enough to protect, gentle enough to care.
Third, maintain and communicate the policy through active partnership with local law enforcement. A security policy works best when it is shared, understood, and kept current—and that requires an ongoing relationship with local law enforcement. Churches should communicate their security plans with law enforcement leaders, invite their input, and remain open to guidance shaped by real-world experience and best practices. Regular communication allows policies to be reviewed, refined, and updated as conditions change. When churches and local law enforcement know one another and work together, responses are calmer, coordination is clearer, and everyone involved is better prepared to serve and protect the community.
A Final Word
At the end of the day, the answer isn’t louder voices or harder lines—it’s love. Love that listens. Love that protects. Love that pursues peace without surrendering order. Scripture is clear: whatever we do, we are to do it in love. And love, rightly ordered, remains the Church’s greatest witness.
Pastor Bobby Richard is the lead pastor at One Church, Lafayette, Louisiana. He is also the CEO of Southern Defense and Security in Lafayette, Louisiana, which provides security services, assessments, technology and solutions.
