The Supreme Court handed down a landmark decision affirming President Trump’s authority to end Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for approximately 350,000 Venezuelan nationals. These individuals were originally granted protection due to the collapse of civil society in Venezuela—rampant political persecution, economic devastation, and violence that made safe return virtually impossible. For years, they’ve lived and worked legally in the United States under what was always intended to be a temporary humanitarian measure.

Now, with the Court upholding the administration’s discretion, we’re faced with a challenge that tests both our national integrity and our moral compass. As Christians, we are called to hold two truths in tension: the sovereign right of a nation to control its borders and enforce its laws, and the sacred responsibility to care for the stranger, the oppressed, and the vulnerable. The Bible tells us plainly: “He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?” (Micah 6:8). In this moment, justice and mercy are not opposing forces—they are twin obligations. And navigating this issue wisely means honoring both.

Restoring Constitutional Order and Executive Authority

Let’s begin with what the Supreme Court’s decision actually represents: not merely a green light for a specific immigration policy, but a vital reaffirmation of constitutional boundaries. By upholding President Trump’s authority to terminate Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for Venezuelans, the Court didn’t just back a political move—it upheld the foundational principle that immigration policy, particularly discretionary humanitarian programs like TPS, falls squarely under the executive branch.

For years, we’ve watched an erosion of this clarity. Judicial activism has often blurred the constitutional lines, with unelected judges inserting themselves into policy decisions that were never meant to be theirs. This creeping overreach undermines the very structure our Founding Fathers built—a structure designed to ensure accountability by placing lawmaking and enforcement in the hands of those elected by the people. When courts dictate policy from the bench, they bypass the democratic process and weaken the voice of the electorate.

The Supreme Court’s decision helps recalibrate that imbalance. It reminds us that TPS was never designed to be a permanent immigration workaround, nor a judicially managed entitlement. It’s a temporary measure, created for exceptional circumstances, and it must remain subject to the President’s discretion. Otherwise, we invite a dangerous precedent where humanitarian policies outlive the emergencies that justified them—and where courts, not voters, shape our nation’s immigration future.

Whether one supports or opposes President Trump’s specific actions, the broader principle here is essential: the power to govern must rest with those whom the people have chosen. The President must be able to exercise lawful authority without judicial interference at every turn. This ruling is not just a nod to President Trump—it’s a necessary course correction for our republic. It preserves the separation of powers, reinforces the rule of law, and ensures that constitutional order—not courtroom politics—guides our government.

Protecting Americans Is the First Duty of Government

National security isn’t just a political talking point, it is the bedrock responsibility of any legitimate government, and both Scripture and our Constitution affirm this duty. In Romans 13, the Apostle Paul describes civil authority as “the minister of God to thee for good,” bearing the sword not in vain, but to restrain evil and protect the innocent. Government doesn’t exist merely to regulate commerce or collect taxes—it exists to uphold justice and ensure peace and safety for its citizens.

In this context, President Trump’s decision to end TPS for Venezuelans is not an act of hostility toward immigrants—it’s an act of prudence in the face of legitimate security concerns. The administration has flagged credible intelligence that criminal syndicates like Tren de Aragua—a notoriously violent Venezuelan gang—have infiltrated migrant populations, exploiting the TPS program and the broader chaos at the southern border. These gangs don’t just traffic drugs—they traffic in human misery: extortion, kidnapping, and violent crime. Ignoring this threat would be a dereliction of duty.

Now, let’s be clear: not every Venezuelan under TPS is a criminal. In fact, the vast majority are peaceful, hard-working individuals fleeing an oppressive regime. But it’s just as wrong to dismiss legitimate threats in the name of blind compassion as it is to unfairly stereotype entire communities. True mercy doesn’t ignore danger; it confronts it with wisdom and moral clarity.

The Supreme Court’s ruling empowers the administration to act preemptively—before the situation worsens. That’s not fearmongering; that’s common sense. It’s the government doing what it was instituted to do: secure the safety of the people. In a world where enemies can cross borders as easily as families, the sword must sometimes be unsheathed—not to strike indiscriminately, but to protect the innocent from those who would do harm.

President Trump’s approach may not be universally popular, but it is grounded in an understanding of justice that does not separate compassion from accountability. In a fallen world, security is not optional, it’s essential. And when leaders act to preserve it, they aren’t betraying biblical values; they’re fulfilling them.

TPS Is Temporary—It’s Time We Treated It That Way

Temporary Protected Status, by definition, was never intended to be a permanent fixture in anyone’s immigration journey. It was created as a stopgap—a compassionate, time-limited measure for individuals whose home countries were dealing with extraordinary crises, such as war, natural disasters, or political collapse. But like many “temporary” government programs, TPS has quietly morphed into something else: a quasi-permanent immigration channel, manipulated for political gain and shielded from scrutiny under the banner of compassion.

Under Presidents Obama and Biden, TPS was stretched well beyond its original purpose. Extensions were granted not because conditions had necessarily improved or worsened, but because reversing course would have been politically inconvenient. There were no clear benchmarks, no accountability, no structured exit strategy. In effect, TPS became a workaround for a broken immigration system—a way to grant de facto residency without going through Congress or adhering to the lawful immigration process.

That’s not compassion, that’s legislative laziness. And worse, it’s a betrayal of both the American people and the migrants who have built lives based on promises that were never intended to be permanent.

President Trump’s decision to end TPS for Venezuelans doesn’t close the door on them forever—it simply restores honesty and integrity to our immigration system. He’s saying what previous administrations wouldn’t: that temporary should mean temporary. That’s not heartless, it’s honest. It doesn’t mean we lack sympathy for those fleeing failed socialist regimes. It means we insist on addressing their needs through the proper legal channels.

If Venezuela’s situation remains dire—and by all accounts, it does—then the responsibility falls on Congress to step up and pass targeted legislation. Congress has the constitutional authority to create legal immigration pathways. If lawmakers believe Venezuelans should stay, they can and should craft a bill to make that possible. That’s how the system is supposed to work: not by bureaucratic fiat or executive loophole, but by the will of the people expressed through their elected representatives.

By reaffirming that TPS is not a backdoor to citizenship or a loophole for indefinite residency, President Trump is reasserting something that’s been lost in this debate—respect for the law. That’s not just a conservative value; it’s a constitutional one. And in restoring this principle, we don’t lose our compassion, we simply ensure that it’s applied in a way that’s lawful, sustainable, and fair.

Mercy Must Guide Our Actions

While legal authority and national security are foundational to any immigration policy, we must never lose sight of the human beings behind the headlines. This isn’t just a matter of statutes and court rulings—it’s about fathers and mothers, children and grandparents, who fled the wreckage of a socialist dictatorship with the hope of building a better life. Many of these Venezuelan men and women risked everything to escape violence, political persecution, and economic ruin. They came seeking what America has always promised: liberty, opportunity, and safety.

As Christians, we are called to a higher moral standard—one that tempers justice with compassion. Hebrews 13:3 reminds us to “remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them,” meaning we don’t look at suffering from a distance—we enter into it with empathy and grace. Deporting law-abiding families who have built lives here—who have opened businesses, contributed to their communities, and sent their children to our schools—is not just a legal act; it’s a moral dilemma. These are not nameless statistics—they’re our neighbors, co-workers, and in many cases, fellow believers in Christ.

Many of these Venezuelan TPS recipients have been here for years. They’ve put down roots, married, raised American-born children, paid taxes, and lived peacefully under the protection of a program they trusted. To suddenly revoke that protection and send them back to a nation still plagued by instability isn’t just disruptive, it’s potentially life-threatening. It’s one thing to end a program moving forward; it’s another to uproot families who’ve spent a decade building their lives under its protection.

That doesn’t mean we turn a blind eye to the law. But it does mean we look for ways to apply the law with wisdom and mercy. Just as we’d hope for grace if we were in their shoes, we ought to extend it when we’re in the position of power. That might mean offering an earned legal status to those who have abided by the rules and demonstrated good moral character, even while we secure our borders and remove those who pose a danger.

Justice without mercy becomes cruelty. And mercy without justice becomes chaos. We are called to walk that narrow path in between—the path of discernment, humility, and compassion. President Trump’s effort to restore legal integrity to immigration is right and necessary—but as we pursue that goal, we must also ensure our policies reflect the mercy and moral clarity that define both our faith and our national character.

The Economic and Cultural Cost of Abrupt Deportations

Let’s talk brass tacks. For all our talk as conservatives about economic sense, free markets, and responsible governance, we can’t ignore the real-world consequences of abruptly deporting hundreds of thousands of Venezuelan TPS holders. In communities like Doral, Miami, and Houston, these individuals aren’t strangers—they’re neighbors, employees, business owners, and fellow worshippers. They coach Little League, serve in local ministries, and help keep the engine of local economies running smoothly.

If all 350,000 of them were removed at once, the economic fallout would be immediate and far-reaching. Many work in industries already struggling to find reliable labor—hospitality, healthcare, construction, transportation, and food service. These are not fringe jobs; they’re essential ones. In fact, many of these Venezuelans filled the gaps when others wouldn’t or couldn’t. They’re paying taxes, renting apartments, starting businesses, and stimulating growth in cities that desperately need it. Ripping them out of that framework isn’t just unkind—it’s economically reckless.

Small businesses form the backbone of this nation. When the labor force shrinks unexpectedly, wages can spike, services can falter, and businesses—especially small ones—can buckle under the pressure. Deporting a sizable segment of our legal workforce isn’t a costless action. It could very well harm the very citizens these policies claim to protect.

And beyond the dollars and cents, there’s something deeper, something cultural and moral. These folks didn’t sneak across the border in the dead of night. They came here legally under a U.S.-sanctioned program. They followed the rules, complied with the system, and contributed honestly. That’s not something we should punish; that’s something we ought to recognize.

We often say America is a nation of laws, and that’s true. But it’s also a nation of principles—of fair play, of rewarding those who do the right thing, and of building communities where trust in government isn’t a punchline. If we deport people who’ve abided by the law under a promise we made to them, what message are we sending to others who might be watching, wondering if America is a place worth investing in?

Maintaining immigration integrity doesn’t mean we have to tear apart communities overnight. It means we apply the law in ways that are both firm and fair. Venezuelan TPS holders are not just case numbers—they’re part of the American mosaic. And any serious conversation about reform must start with that reality.

Justice Requires Due Process and Individual Review

As we rightly focus on restoring order to our immigration system and securing our national borders, we must also remember a foundational pillar of both our legal tradition and our faith: justice is not justice without discernment. The Court’s decision upholding President Trump’s authority to end TPS was correct in principle, but its implementation must not abandon the values that distinguish us as a nation of laws and liberty.

A major concern emerging in the aftermath of this ruling is the apparent lack of individualized assessments in certain deportation efforts. Let’s be crystal clear: removing known criminals, gang members, and fugitives from our country is not only appropriate, it’s essential. But when the same dragnet sweeps up grandmothers, Sunday school teachers, small business owners, and hard-working parents, we’ve veered off course.

Justice, both biblical and constitutional, demands more than blunt instruments. It requires careful consideration of each person’s circumstances, contributions, and character. The Book of Proverbs tells us, “To do justice and judgment is more acceptable to the Lord than sacrifice” (Proverbs 21:3). That means justice is not about ticking boxes or checking off quotas—it’s about doing what is right in each unique situation.

Blanket deportation policies that don’t distinguish between those who’ve committed crimes and those who’ve lived peaceably and productively for years undermine the very rule of law they claim to uphold. When we treat everyone the same in the name of expediency, we risk punishing the innocent alongside the guilty. That’s not justice, it’s carelessness wrapped in the illusion of order.

The Trump administration, while absolutely correct to prioritize national security and legal integrity, must also ensure that due process remains central to enforcement. Every individual should have the opportunity to present their case, demonstrate their contributions, and appeal unjust or mistaken decisions. That’s not a loophole—it’s a safeguard against tyranny.

In practice, this means equipping immigration courts with the resources they need to process cases efficiently and fairly. It means training enforcement officers to exercise discretion and compassion. And it means remembering that a government powerful enough to deport anyone without review is a government powerful enough to abuse that authority in other ways.

If we truly want to restore confidence in our immigration system—and more broadly, in our institutions—we must marry the rule of law with the rule of reason. That’s not weakness; it’s wisdom. It’s the kind of justice that honors both the Constitution and the teachings of Christ. And it’s the kind of justice America must pursue if we are to remain both strong and good.

A Path Forward: Lawful, Moral, and Conservative

Here’s the bottom line: President Trump was right to challenge the misuse of Temporary Protected Status and reassert the constitutional authority of the executive branch. And the Supreme Court was equally right to uphold that authority, reinforcing the principle that immigration policy must be set by elected leaders, not dictated by judicial activism or bureaucratic inertia. But now that legal clarity has been restored, we’re at a crossroads—and the next steps matter just as much as the ruling itself.

It’s time for Congress to do what only Congress can do: craft a legislative solution that honors both the law and the people affected by it. Law-abiding Venezuelans who have lived in the United States for years—who have built families, paid taxes, obeyed our laws, and become vital members of their communities—deserve a legal path forward. That doesn’t mean blanket amnesty or a fast track to citizenship. It means an earned opportunity to apply for legal status, assessed individually and fairly, while ensuring that those with criminal records or ties to violent organizations are swiftly and decisively removed.

This is what real conservative leadership looks like: principled, not panicked; tough on crime, not hard-hearted toward the innocent. A truly conservative, truly Christian response doesn’t blur the lines between legal and illegal—but it does recognize the difference between an enemy and a neighbor. As followers of Christ and defenders of the Constitution, we are called to walk a narrow but noble road: firm on law, soft on hearts.

We do not owe the world open borders—but we do owe those who came here legally under our invitation the respect of being treated with dignity. That means clear laws, fair enforcement, and pathways that reward integrity, not loopholes that reward manipulation.

Our nation is strongest when it governs with both conviction and conscience. When we combine the strength of our laws with the tenderness of our values, we reflect the best of who we are. We secure our borders not just to keep threats out, but to preserve the promise of America for those who come in good faith. We enforce our laws not to punish, but to protect the freedom that lawlessness would destroy. And we extend grace not because we’re weak, but because we know that mercy is the foundation of justice—not its enemy.

Let’s defend our sovereignty without forgetting our soul. Let’s fix our immigration system in a way that honors the rule of law, respects human dignity, and strengthens the fabric of our republic. That’s the American way. That’s the Christian way. And in this moment, it’s the only right way forward.