A Christian betrayal playing out in the United Kingdom

Across Britain, church leaders are encouraging Christians to join pro-asylum marches in support of immigrants and refugees. On the surface, it sounds noble. Show compassion. Welcome the stranger. Demonstrate decency. Look closer, however, and a different reality emerges. These marches are not acts of biblical kindness. They’re political projects, run by groups with aims far beyond helping the persecuted. If the Church binds itself to them, it risks losing credibility, independence, and witness.

Compassion is central to Christianity. It always has been. Scripture calls believers to care for those in need. But compassion is not blind, and mercy is not mindless. Both require discernment and discipline. The neighbor we are called to love includes not only the stranger at the gate but also the families next door, the parishes under strain, and the communities already stretched thin. Demanding unlimited asylum elevates sentiment over stewardship and ideology over duty.

The modern asylum agenda is less about charity and all about control. It erases the difference between the genuine refugee and the opportunist, the persecuted and the predator. It demands that all who arrive be accepted, regardless of cost or consequence. That is not Christian. It is, I argue, distinctly anti-Christian. It denies prudence, mocks responsibility, and treats national order as expendable.

It also corrodes national identity, reducing citizenship to a mere formality and denying ordinary people a voice in how their villages, towns, and cities are reshaped. Nowhere is this clearer than in the United Kingdom, where years of unchecked migration have produced disorder and decline. Areas once knit together by cohesion now fracture along cultural lines. Grooming gangs exploit with impunity. Political leaders wave away public anguish as ignorance or intolerance. The result is betrayal—of the people who built the nation, and of the communities still holding it together.

The marches themselves make the danger obvious. They are not forums for prayer or patient reflection. They are performances of outrage, designed to silence dissent and shame ordinary people into submission. Christians who take part are not fostering dialogue. They’re helping to bury it. In doing so, they spread the false belief that resisting uncontrolled migration is somehow un-Christian, when in truth Scripture affirms that pragmatism, protection, and justice are virtues.

The Bible shows again and again that compassion was never meant to stand apart from discernment. Nehemiah rebuilt Jerusalem’s walls to protect his people, not out of cruelty, but because he knew that survival depended on order. Paul told the Thessalonians, “the one who is unwilling to work shall not eat,” a reminder that responsibility sustains community life. Christ Himself warned His disciples to be “shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves,” joining mercy with vigilance. Scripture calls for care guided by wisdom.

The irony is bitter. Christians who march believe they are embodying Christ’s compassion. In reality, they are feeding movements that exploit Christian mercy while scorning Christian faith. When the Church is no longer useful, those same movements will cast it aside. What remains is a Church reduced to a stage prop, drained of dignity, dragged into politics it cannot command.

History makes the danger plain. Rome cloaked itself in Christian imagery while demanding loyalty to empire above all. Later revolutions tolerated the Church only when it preached obedience to power. Today’s agitators follow the same pattern. They borrow the moral weight of Christianity to advance ends that defy it.

The real Christian response to migration is quieter, harder, and considerably holier. It means feeding the hungry. It means clothing the destitute and housing the truly persecuted. It means urging governments to create systems that are both merciful and measured, compassionate yet controlled. It means serving the weak without surrendering society to the manipulative. These deliberate acts rarely reach the front page, but they protect lives, preserve order, and honor Christ.

Christians must remember that compassion isn’t complicity. To love the stranger is a command, but so is guarding the flock. Christian duty doesn’t demand that the gates be flung open. It requires opening the door with discernment, welcoming those in genuine need while still protecting those within. True charity always starts at home. And if home falls, faith, family, and future all fall with it.