May 6th, 2010.

8:00 a.m. – The day begins as per usual; traffic is getting better. The snowbirds are leaving for the summer and so the freeways are a little less congested. People talk about the great game last night. If we can come away from the San Antonio road trip with even one win, Los Suns will be in a great position to take the series.

8:30 a.m. – Maricopa County Sheriff’s deputies raid a local printer cartridge supplier, arresting 24 people suspected of working without authorization and charging them with the crime of forgery or identity theft. Nothing is apparently done in regards to the ownership or management of the company. One of the workers is my friend Cesar.

He, his wife Maria and four children attend our church, Neighborhood Ministries. They come across right away as a nice-looking family, especially the five-year-old, Miranda, who is adorable and attends our pre-school. Jesus, the oldest, loves soccer and is an honors student. He has long been a wonderful part of my youth group; he helps me set the bar high for others in terms of his respect, work ethic and attitude. He volunteers with the programs for the younger kids, helping coach our soccer teams. Carlos, who is also in my youth group, is more reserved than his older brother, but has found a comfort zone in our bike shop where kids can bank their hours working and learning to fix bikes, eventually earning a bicycle of their own. Andrea, the middle child, often greets my wife and me with a big hug during our weekly outreach program for the little ones.

Maria has been a consistent leader in our parent volunteer program that empowers local parents to engage and lead our ministry, which likewise can earn them credits in our new thrift store. When asked what she does for a living, she proudly says she is a housewife and a volunteer at her church. As we have engaged community organizing work, she has led the efforts to teach other families about interacting in positive ways with community policing efforts, teaching the difference between an attorney and a notary (which has a different role in the Mexican legal system) and what things immigrant families can do to make sure they are doing everything possible to be in good standing in the community. Their family is a strong part of our neighborhood; they are active members in our church and they are very afraid for their dad. It has been nearly 10 years since they first came to be with us.

8:35 a.m. I receive a phone call. Maria is crying; I can’t understand what she is saying. I drive to the factory down the street to find Sheriff’s deputies and the media everywhere. I call Cesar, he is nervous and can’t talk long. He hangs up on me.

9:00 a.m. I arrive back at church where Maria is waiting as I instructed her. She doesn’t want to go home. Cesar said deputies took down everyone’s home address. I call some other church staff and we start to pray; there are other neighborhood families with us now, praying and offering support. We begin to call all the attorneys we know.

1:13 p.m. In a neighborhood a few miles south of our community, Juan Varela gets into an altercation with Gary Kelley, who is white. They have been neighbors for many years and have fought before. Neighbors hear Gary yell racial epithets and insults at Juan. He asks Juan if he wants to die and then shoots him on the sidewalk by both their homes.

1:30 p.m. Juan Varela, 44, dies in a local emergency room. I don’t know Juan or Gary. In light of violence like this, it is hard to fathom the reality that crime is on the decline.

2:10 p.m. A few of us meet with a local criminal attorney. He tells us that immigration issues might have to wait, since the sheriff goes after workers as forgers in these raids and tries to give them as much jail time as possible before deporting them. Unlawful entry into the U.S. is only a misdemeanor, so the sheriff needs criminal charges to lock folks up.

4:00 p.m. I arrive at home, tired on so many levels. I learn about Juan Varela’s death from a friend. She calls the family to ask if we can go pray with them. The family is hesitant. I continue calling attorneys for Maria and I call a few friends, inviting them to come pray about the shooting.

9:00 p.m. Another colleague of mine, Jeremy, and I pray that God would heal our hurting community. We reclaim the space of death and violence as a place of hope and redemption, in the name of Jesus. We ask Jesus to save us from our sin and to use us in a mighty way in the healing of our city. We pray that God would hover over the chaotic waters like as he did before creation, and to bring order from the chaos. We read scripture collectively.

I am praying silently for a word of hope I can give to those gathered at the vigil, when I look up to see Juan’s entire family walking toward us. They ask to join the prayer circle. One by one, family members pray and ask that God would stop the violence and discord in our community and use this pain to transform us. They pray the new Arizona law would be struck down in the courts. They pray for Juan’s grieving mother. They thank us for coming; we thank them for having us.

We all go home; another day in Phoenix, AZ.

Ian Danley is a youth minister with Neighborhood Ministries in Phoenix, AZ.