The latest theological contortion from progressive Christianity has arrived, wrapped in the familiar language of divine grace and social justice. Writing for Sojourners, Yanan Rahim Navarez Melo argues that Christians must embrace open borders because God’s grace is “borderless.”
Real Christianity commands care for the vulnerable, not the surrender of common sense.
The argument sounds spiritually sophisticated until you realize it’s built on the same flawed foundation that supports most progressive Christian causes: the complete abandonment of biblical wisdom in favor of contemporary political fashion.
Melo’s essay represents a dangerous trend among progressive Christians who consistently twist scripture to validate whatever cause captures elite liberal imagination. Today, it’s open borders. Tomorrow, perhaps, reparations for the serpent in Eden.
The maddening method remains the same: find a theological concept, rip it of context, and use it to baptize progressive politics.
The fundamental problem with Melo’s argument isn’t his concern for the dislocated and dispossessed. Christian compassion toward the vulnerable represents one of faith’s noblest traditions. The problem lies in his breathtaking leap from “God loves everyone” to “therefore nations shouldn’t have borders.” It’s a theological card trick that would shame even a Vegas hustler.
Consider the insanity of his central claim. Melo argues that because God’s grace extends to all people, Christians must support policies that eliminate immigration restrictions entirely. By this logic, Christians should also oppose locks on their homes, security systems at banks, and background checks for child minders. After all, if divine grace is truly borderless, why maintain any protective boundaries whatsoever?
The author quotes Karl Barth’s resistance to Nazi Germany as support for his position, apparently unaware that this comparison undermines his entire argument. Barth opposed a genocidal regime that sought to murder innocent people, not a democratic nation attempting to regulate immigration through legal processes. The analogy shows the bankruptcy of progressive Christian discourse. Every policy disagreement is branded fascism, every enforcement measure likened to genocide.
Real Christianity commands care for the vulnerable, not the surrender of common sense. Christ’s call to welcome the stranger was never a call to scrap safeguards that separate the desperate from the dangerous. Loving your neighbor sometimes means shielding him from predators who game systems built to protect the innocent.
Progressive Christians refuse this distinction because it ruins their preferred narrative. Open borders may welcome families in need, but they also invite traffickers, cartels, and violent offenders. When progressives wave away these dangers as xenophobia, they reveal their own idiocy and ignorance. One wonders what Melo would say if a Venezuelan drug runner skipped across the border and knocked on his door, asking for a bed for the night.
The author’s talk of “crucified peoples” may look like compassion. In truth, it is willful naivety, and the appearance is dangerously deceptive. Melo uses this dramatic language to describe all migrants while carefully avoiding any discussion of who might be doing the crucifying. Many migrants flee violence perpetrated by the very criminals who exploit open borders policies. Genuine compassion requires distinguishing between victims and victimizers, not lumping them together under theological abstractions.
Progressive Christianity’s approach to immigration mirrors its approach to every other issue: reduce complex problems to simple moral categories, ignore practical consequences, and dismiss anyone who raises concerns as morally defective. The result is rhetoric that feels righteous but breeds reckless policy. And in the process, Christianity itself is distorted beyond recognition.
Biblical Christianity calls believers to radical generosity toward strangers. The Hebrew scriptures command care for foreigners, tying it to Israel’s own life as aliens in Egypt. The New Testament shows this in Christ’s care for the outcast and Paul’s call to unity across nations. But biblical hospitality has always operated within boundaries and responsibilities. Ancient Israel cared for sojourners, yet still protected its borders. The early church gave generously yet kept careful watch over membership and leadership. Neither example looks anything like the borderless fantasy progressives push today.
Modern nations face immigration challenges that ancient communities never encountered. Jet travel can move thousands across continents in hours. Smartphones spread instant messages about open routes and weak borders. Global cartels run smuggling networks that stretch from Caracas to Chicago. Criminal groups abuse humanitarian systems to advance their own agendas. That reality demands policies that are both principled and practical.
Melo’s essay ignores this entirely. His theology offers no way to distinguish families fleeing danger from predators and parasites. No plan to shield the vulnerable from exploitation. No thought for how unchecked immigration could decimate the very communities forced to absorb it.
The real choice isn’t between hatred and recklessness, but between policies anchored in accountability and those adrift in absurdity. Melo’s borderless theology offers only the latter.
READ MORE from John Mac Ghlionn:
The Digital Crucifixion of Christianity