ATLANTA — In late January, just after President Donald Trump was sworn into office for his second term, a Honduran father of three was apprehended by immigration officials outside the entrance of his church in Tucker, Georgia.

Wilson Velásquez’s arrest heralded a period of intensified immigration enforcement under the Trump administration. Since returning to the White House, Trump has expanded the pool of immigrants liable to deportation, and overseen roughly 1,500 immigration arrests in Georgia alone.

Among the policy changes emboldening U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement is a directive that now allows agents to conduct arrests in schools, churches and hospitals — “sensitive” places previously deemed largely off-limits for immigration enforcement.

The aftermath of Velásquez’s arrest during a Sunday service at Fuente de Vida Church is still reverberating across metro Atlanta churches with large immigrant congregations. Several local pastors told The Atlanta Journal-Constitution that attendance has dropped as immigrants limit their movements in an effort to lower their exposure to ICE. Not only does this newfound fear constrain people’s ability to exercise their faith, the religious leaders said, it prevents them from accessing a space that provides connection as well as a range of social services — from English classes to job placement.

“Church becomes this link between the country of origin and this country, and we help them assimilate into the culture of this country, because it’s obviously a brand-new system to what they left behind,” said Rev. Eli Chavez of Iglesia Monte Sinai in Norcross.

Chavez said a group of young Guatemalans from his congregation were recently arrested and are now in ICE detention.

Rev. Ventura Ruiz is at the helm of the Primera Iglesia Bautista Hispana de Lawrenceville. Founded over 20 years ago, the church expanded quickly in recent years, as Lawrenceville drew many recent arrivals from the border, maybe even the most out of any community in Georgia, according to immigration court data. That growth prompted the congregation to seek a bigger gathering space. Last year, it began renting facilities from Lawrenceville’s Central Baptist Church.

Church attendance declining

Ruiz said attendance at his weekly service vastly outnumbers that of the English-language service held in the same building. But changes in immigration enforcement derailed that congregation’s upward trajectory.

Before Trump’s inauguration, around 160 people would come to Sunday service, Ruiz said. Now, that number averages fewer than 120, he said. That’s a 25% decline.

At least one person from his congregation decided to self-deport and return to his home country of Nicaragua, Ruiz said.

The end later this month of immigration protections granted under a Biden humanitarian parole program will also affect many church members, Ruiz said, and possibly lead to more departures.

“We’re hoping for the best, but we’re preparing for the worst,” he said.

Over at St. Edward’s Episcopal Church, also in Lawrenceville, Rev. Fabio Sotelo says attendance has decreased by about 20%.

“There are families that have limited themselves to going out (only) when it’s really essential. They’re even cutting down on the days and the hours they work,” he said. “I can’t simply say: ‘You must come in (to church).’ They have to decide how and when they come.”

Remarkably, the Tucker church rocked by the January ICE arrest has not registered a significant dip in attendance, pastor Luis Ortiz said.

Ortiz said the brush with immigration enforcement has inspired members to continue gathering and seek spiritual guidance. Members of the congregation are also moved by his own story.

Ortiz said he immigrated to the U.S. from El Salvador years ago with a valid visa, but didn’t return home when that visa expired and now finds himself living in the country without legal status. Yet he continues to exercise his role as his church’s most visible member.

“In front of the congregation, I am strong. But when I’m alone, I feel weak. No one is more scared than me,” he said. “At the church we all became determined to continue to come.

“Even though we had immigration agents here, we’ve kept our heads high. No matter what, we will continue to be here.”

Ortiz added: “People are very scared. But with or without fear, we have to seek spiritual help from God.”

Among the people who have continued attending church despite lacking status is Velásquez’s wife, Kenia. Ortiz says she hasn’t missed a single Sunday service since her husband was arrested.

“People look at this woman who is so hurt, and she’s here raising people’s spirits,” Ortiz said. “Wow. It’s something extraordinary.”

Sanctuary movements

Religious organizations in the U.S. have a long history of involvement in pro-immigrant activism.

Starting in the 1980s, hundreds of congregations across the country provided safe haven to Central American migrants fleeing civil strife, sparking a religious and political campaign known as the Sanctuary movement.

During the first Trump administration, a coalition of Atlanta-area interfaith churches formed the New Sanctuary Movement of Atlanta. Originally meant to provide shelter to people facing ICE detention and deportation, the organization evolved into a resource center, connecting immigrants in need to partner nonprofits and service providers.

In recent months, Rev. Tom Hagood, chairman of the Atlanta Sanctuary Movement, has been helping organize know-your-rights events at Columbia Presbyterian, his church in Decatur. Other church leaders have attended the trainings, and he has also received requests for advice for private schools. Alongside churches and hospitals, schools were also deemed newly viable targets for immigration enforcement operations.

A key takeaway imparted at the trainings is that churches can turn ICE agents away if they fail to produce a search warrant signed by a judge.

“We’ve been teaching people to look at that warrant,” Hagood said. “If it’s just some kind of an administrative warrant, you can tell them to get lost. It’s got to be a judicial warrant. It’s got to have the right date on there, within two weeks. It’s got to have names spelled right. “You can say: ‘Well, we’re going to call our attorney and bring them down to review this first.’

“I mean, there’s a lot of things you can do to slow it down. And, you know, goodness gracious, I guess if whoever they’re looking for ran out the door, maybe they go away.”

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