Dr. Crowder shared the following in a letter to future Living Waters Region Clergy on Thursday, Jan. 22.
Beloved Colleagues,
There are moments in history when neutrality becomes a decision—and silence becomes a sermon of its own.
The National Call for Faith Leaders to gather in Minneapolis, January 22–23, 2026, is not simply an invitation to travel; it is a summons to conscience. It asked a question that echoes through Scripture and sacred tradition: “Where are you?” Not geographically, but morally. Not symbolically, but bodily. Not later, but now. Minneapolis is not just a city on a map. It has become a moral crossroads. From the streets where George Floyd cried out for breath, to immigrant communities living under the shadow of fear and force, the ground itself bears witness. And when the ground cries out, faith leaders are compelled to listen.
This call reminds us that faith has never been meant to be safely housed inside sanctuaries alone. The prophets stood at city gates. Jesus walked among the dispossessed. The early church was known not by its buildings, but by its presence with the vulnerable. Minneapolis, in this moment, is one of those places where the gospel is tested by history.
Not everyone who hears a sacred call can answer it with their body. Some of us cannot go—because of health, caregiving responsibilities, financial limits, or congregational realities. And still, the call remains real. Distance does not negate discipleship. Absence does not equal indifference. Scripture reminds us that the body of faith has many members, and not all are sent in the same way. Some are called to go. Others are called to stay—to pray, preach, organize, protect, and tell the truth where they are planted. Presence takes many forms. The National Call for Faith Leaders is not ultimately about geography; it is about alignment. It asks whether our hearts are turned toward justice, whether our voices will resist dehumanization, and whether our congregations will refuse to normalize cruelty. One does not need to cross state lines to cross the line from silence into solidarity.
For those who cannot go, the work presses close to home. We can preach with clarity and courage. We can pray publicly and persistently. We can protect immigrant families. We can educate, organize, and accompany. We can refuse narratives that make fear sound faithful. Minneapolis may be the flashpoint, but justice is never confined to one city. The God of liberation is not bound by distance or circumstance. The Spirit moves through sermons and vigils, phone calls and letters, budgets and ballots, and bold conversations held in familiar rooms. The question is not, “Can you go?” The deeper question is, “How will you answer?”
In closing, I am reminded that in 1964, preaching at London’s City Temple, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. closed with words he would never stop repeating, drawn from an old enslaved preacher—rough in grammar, radiant in truth:
“Lord, we ain’t what we want to be. We ain’t what we ought to be. We ain’t what we gonna be. But thank God, we ain’t what we was.”
That is the theology of justice in one breath. The struggle is not a sprint—it is a long obedience in the same direction. So we thank God for what we’re no longer—and we keep moving toward what we are becoming.
Thank you
Very moving within. Thank you.
God bless you, Dr. Crowder!