March Message from Conference Minister Rev. Dr. Lorraine Ceniceros

Standing Together Under a Wide Sky

Friends,

I’ve been sitting with a lot this week.

Before anything else, I need to name what has happened here at home.

As of February 26, Senate Bill 244 has taken effect in Kansas. Under this new law, the state has invalidated the driver’s licenses and birth certificates of more than a thousand transgender Kansans who had previously updated their gender markers on those documents.

This is not abstract policy. This affects real people; our neighbors, our church members, our children of God.

For transgender individuals, identification documents are not merely paperwork. They shape daily life: employment verification, travel, school enrollment, medical care, and personal safety. When documents no longer reflect a person’s lived identity, vulnerability increases. Fear increases. Isolation increases.

Regardless of where one stands politically, we must be clear about this: people in our communities are waking up today more uncertain about their safety and belonging than they were yesterday.

As followers of Jesus, we are called to love our neighbors as ourselves. That commandment does not shift with legislation. It does not bend with political winds.

It asks us to notice who feels exposed.
It asks us to stand near those who feel pushed to the margins.
It asks us to remember that every person bears the image of God.

In moments like this, our response begins not with rhetoric, but with presence.

Many of us have watched the news from Minnesota and felt a familiar unease. We hear that immigration enforcement activity has shifted, that some agents have withdrawn, and yet the presence remains. Questions linger about what might happen next and how communities of faith will respond when uncertainty moves closer to home.

I want to speak plainly and with care.

I don’t know what every congregation is planning or preparing, and I won’t pretend to speak beyond what I’ve witnessed. What I can share is what I experienced the first Sunday of Lent.

I spent the day with one of our smaller congregations, a faithful community that continues to gather week after week, even when numbers are modest and resources are thin. There were no big announcements or sweeping plans. There was simply worship. People arriving as they are. Songs sung with quiet strength. Prayers spoken with the hope that God is still near.

Out here on the prairie, grass survives because its roots run deep beneath the soil. That’s what I felt among them, not urgency, not fear, but grounded faithfulness.

Many of us may feel as though we are standing at a threshold, unsure what lies ahead, yet trusting that God meets us there. Faithfulness does not always look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like people choosing to stay present to one another, choosing love even when the future feels unclear.

Jesus calls us to love our neighbors as ourselves. Each congregation will live that call in its own way. Some may move toward learning and preparation. Others will continue the steady work of worship, prayer, and care for their communities. There isn’t one faithful response, only the shared promise that we do not walk this road alone.

The prairie teaches us patience. It bends with the wind, yet its roots hold fast.

So we keep gathering.
We keep listening.
We keep loving.

And we trust that God is already at work among us, even when we cannot yet see the whole path.

May the God of wide horizons steady your steps.
May Christ meet you at every threshold of uncertainty.
And may the Spirit root us deep in love,
so that, together, we can stand when the winds rise. Amen.

Walking this journey of faith with you,

Lorraine