When Injustice Presumes God’s Silence: A Meditation on Refugees, Power, and Christian Witness

In September, I wrote in response to the unbelievable actions of this administration against unaccompanied minors under their care—rounding up children in the middle of the night with the express intent of circumventing normal protocols and deporting them before the judicial system could react. [1] I had hoped the warning sounded in that earlier article would not have to be repeated so soon. Yet today, as administrative actions threaten the future of more than 200,000 refugees and their families, [2] I find myself in the same place I did then. A sermon on Exodus 1:17 stirred me to write in September; today, a devotional on Psalm 94 does the same. This psalm meets this moment with sobering clarity.

Psalm 94 refuses euphemism. It does not soften the truth. It speaks into moments when power wounds, when the vulnerable are treated as abstractions, and when unjust decisions are made under the presumption that God does not see.

The psalmist begins with a cry that echoes across centuries: “O LORD, how long shall the wicked exult?” (v. 3). This is a cry against actions that violate God’s righteousness—actions that crush the vulnerable, afflict the already burdened, abandon widows, harm sojourners, and ignore the fatherless. Scripture names these injustices plainly: 

“They crush your people, O LORD… They kill the widow and the sojourner, and murder the fatherless. And they say, ‘The LORD does not see.’” (vv. 5–7).

These are not abstract categories. These are unaccompanied minors. These are families fleeing persecution. These are refugees whose lawful path toward stability has been abruptly destabilized. These are children whose futures have been placed on indefinite hold. Psalm 94 insists that God sees this, hears this, and is not indifferent.

In moments of national anxiety, a dangerous temptation emerges: to assume that whatever occurs through governmental authority must therefore have God’s approval. But Psalm 94 exposes this error with piercing clarity: 

“Can wicked rulers be allied with you, those who frame injustice by statute?” (v. 20).

The psalmist is unambiguous: those who use power in ways that harm the vulnerable place themselves in direct opposition to God’s heart and God’s ways.

This is the consistent witness of Scripture:

• “You shall not wrong a sojourner or oppress him.” (Exodus 22:21)
• “You shall love him as yourself.” (Leviticus 19:33–34)
• “[The Lord] executes justice for the fatherless and the widow, and loves the sojourner.” (Deuteronomy 10:18–19)

To baptize harmful policies in divine legitimacy is to misrepresent God’s character. To attribute injustice to God is to attribute to Him what He explicitly condemns. Psalm 94 reminds us that not everything permitted by earthly authority is blessed by heavenly authority. This is a call to discernment—an invitation to measure every policy, every statute, and every action against the revealed character of God rather than the preferences of any political tribe.

Between the psalm’s lament and its warning stands a quiet assurance: “The LORD will not forsake His people; He will not abandon His heritage” (v. 14). This is the grounding confidence of God’s people in turbulent times. God does not abandon the oppressed. God’s justice is never dormant. God remains the defender of the vulnerable.

The psalmist testifies, “When I thought, ‘My foot slips,’ Your steadfast love, O LORD, held me up” (v. 18). Even now—while families wait in anguish, while minors fear what comes next, while those who serve refugees bear the weight of uncertainty—God’s steadfast love holds.

Psalm 94 does not call God’s people to vengeance. It calls us to faithful witness. Because God sees, we refuse to look away. Because God cares for the sojourner, we refuse to justify policies that harm them. Because God defends the fatherless, we refuse to remain indifferent to children placed in harm’s way. Because God rejects injustice “framed by statute,” we refuse to sanctify harmful decisions made in His name.

The psalm lifts our eyes from despair: “The LORD has become my stronghold, and my God the rock of my refuge” (v. 22). Our hope is not anchored in political cycles or built on shifting legal interpretations. Our trust does not rest in the stability of earthly systems. Our refuge is the God who sees, who hears, who remembers, and who acts.

We speak today, not out of partisanship nor out of a desire for cultural relevance—and certainly not because it is comfortable. We speak because Scripture compels us. We speak because vulnerable people bear God’s image. We speak because injustice—even when cloaked in legality—is still injustice. We speak because Christ Himself entered the world as a vulnerable child and once lived as a refugee, and His people cannot remain silent when those like Him are harmed.

Psalm 94 declares that God is neither silent nor neutral in the face of injustice. Therefore, we will not be silent either.

We cry out with those who are harmed. We stand with those who are forgotten. We advocate for those who are threatened. And we trust—fully, humbly, and confidently—that the God who sees will shine forth.