As debates about the Syrian refugee crisis bubble and brim, we continue to see a tension among Christians between a longingto help and a desire to protect.

As is readily apparentin BreakPoint’s wonderful symposium on the topic, Christians of goodwill and sincere Biblical belief can and will disagree on the policy particulars of an issue such as this.(SeeJoe Carter’s explainerfor the backstory)

Indeed, although we have heard plenty of rash and strident grandstanding among Christians — not to mention byPresident Obama and his political opponents — the tension is probably a good place to sit. As Russell Moore reminds passion and security needn’t be pitted against each other.

As I argued last week on the FLOW blog, the Christian heartbeat of hospitality doesn’t necessitate some blind marchto self-destruction. At the same time, ours is an ethic that relishes in the risk of sacrifice and is willing to deny our security fortability, all that but one might be saved (Luke 15:1-7). Anypolicy is latent with risk, and in thecost-benefit analyses we’re seeing bandied about, Christians ought to bringinputs uniquely reflective of the Gospel.

Even as we exercise wisdom, prudence, and discernment, we mirror the divine generosity of he whofirst loved us. That sort of sacrificial posture is bound toimpact our rhetoric, and as we continue to analyzethe practical concerns, it shouldtilt our risk assessments in a particulardirection:

As Christians, we ought to see the image of God in all people, and demonstrate a love that casts out fear (1 John 4:18). As sojourners and exiles on this earth (1 Pet. 2:11), we should be the first to e the stranger, making space for themin our lives and a place for themat our tables. As the rich and well-to-do peering out at the beggars at our gates (Luke 16:19-31), we should be generous in sparing the proper portionsof risk, mercy, and grace.

Such an approach needn’t mean that we ignore or bypass political prudence. We have a responsibility to protect our citizens and to consider the practical constraints of a free and orderly society – to maintain order and not abuse the levers of power…What it does mean is that our discussions about solutions ought to reflect a basic motivation of love, mercy, and hospitality. As Christians, we are called to care for the vulnerable, and more often than not, that love is going e at a cost…Whatever the prudential merits of barricading against desperate refugees, and however we choose to respond, hospitality should remain the shining light of our society, not fear and insulationism.

Every policy bears costs and benefits. Policies are latent with risk, and as Christians, admitting more Syrian refugees is a risk we should be willing to seriously consider. Because despitethose risks, the transformative power of alove that sacrifices for others is bound to bear fruit– spiritually, culturally, civilizationally, and otherwise. Even as we try our best to mitigate negative es, we must remember for what and whom Christ opened his door, andhow the resulting liberty ought to be spreadhere on earth.

“Justice requires love,” writesEvan Koons in Episode 4of FLOW, “because you won’t have justice unless you remember the image of God in each person – unless you remember each person’s dignity as a glorious, creative, capable gift to the world, unless you are willing to give yourself away to keep that memory alive.”

As Christians, the position of our hearts ought toturn the aim of our policymakingtoward the other, pairing awisdom to mitigate risks with a boldness and willingness to err on the side of sacrifice. As it does, I trust we’ll see less strident opposition from both sides, neither barricading against any and all new entries, nor evading or dismissing security concernsfor cheap political and rhetorical points.

As wejoin together on those key priorities, Christianscan discuss and disagree together,praying that our e to a solution that es the broken even as we protect our society from similar destruction.