Ken Martin on Minneapolis tragedy: As the Bible tells us, faith without action is dead.

I have been guided by my faith my entire life. I was raised Catholic, and I remain Catholic. And throughout my life, I’ve often been asked, sometimes gently, sometimes bluntly, how can you reconcile being both a Christian and a Democrat?

My answer has always been: how can I not?

Because faith, at its core, calls us to see the dignity of every human life. Faith commands us to comfort the grieving, to stand with the vulnerable, to protect the innocent. Faith demands that we act.

And yet, this week in Minneapolis, we witnessed what happens when a nation refuses to act.

On Wednesday morning, families across the city woke up and prepared for what was supposed to be a normal day. Parents packed lunches, tied shoelaces, and sent their children off to school with hugs and kisses and prayers for a good day. For many, it was the very first week of school. For some, their first days of kindergarten, tiny little hands clutching backpacks, hearts wide open to new beginnings.

But for two families, that morning ended in unthinkable tragedy.

At Annunciation Catholic in South Minneapolis, less than ten minutes from where hundreds of us were gathered for our summer DNC meeting, an armed monster with a military-style rifle opened fire, unleashing 116 rounds into a church sanctuary filled with children. An eight-year-old. A ten-year-old. Gone. Futures stolen. Lives ended before they even had the chance to begin.

And hundreds of other children, children who should be learning to read, to sing, to play on the playground, are now survivors of gunfire. Survivors of trauma. Survivors of something no child should ever know.

This year, the motto at Annunciation was meant to be a promise: “A future filled with hope.” Jeremiah 29:11 says: “For I know the plans I have for you, plans for your welfare and not for your misfortune, plans to offer you a future filled with hope.”

But for the children killed, their futures are gone. And for those who lived, hope has been replaced with fear and nightmares.

We cut our meeting short that morning. It didn’t feel right to continue, not while ambulances were racing to Hennepin County Medical Center just blocks away, carrying small bodies riddled with bullets. Not while doctors and nurses fought desperately to keep children alive.

That evening, I stood at a vigil in my home state, surrounded by neighbors and parents and parishioners holding candles that trembled in the wind. We prayed for the children whose lives were lost. We prayed for their parents, parents who will never again tuck their children into bed, never again hear the sound of their laughter. We prayed for classmates and teachers who will carry invisible scars forever. We prayed for first responders, forced to walk into carnage no one should ever have to see.

But as we prayed, we also wept. And we begged, not just God, but one another, for action.

Because prayer alone is not enough. Prayer gives us strength. Prayer gives us courage. But prayer without deeds is empty. As James 2:14 tells us: “Faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.”

And yet, in the days since, we’ve seen something shameful: a deliberate effort to smear those calling for action as if they were mocking prayer, mocking faith. Nothing could be further from the truth. To pray sincerely is to invite God’s guidance to act. To refuse to act in the face of this evil, that is the real betrayal of faith.

Friends, let us speak plainly: guns are the leading cause of death for American children. Not car accidents. Not cancer. Guns.

46,000 Americans are killed by guns per year, an average of 126 people every single day. That’s a Sandy Hook every day. That’s a Parkland every day. That’s an Uvalde every day. And now, it is Minneapolis too.

And every day we delay, the toll grows heavier. Parents bury their children. Families are torn apart. Communities are left broken.

So yes, I believe in prayer. But my faith tells me that prayer must be the beginning, not the end. Prayer must lead us to act.

Every morning, I pray the Serenity Prayer asking for the courage to change the things I can. And when it comes to guns in America, we can change this.

We can do something for the children of Annunciation.

We can do something for our dear friends Melissa and Mark Hortman, whose absence we still feel every day.

We can do something for the 46,000 people who die from gun violence each year.

We can do something for the 4.6 million children in America who live in homes with unlocked, loaded firearms.

We can do something. But only if we choose to.

The grief left behind at Annunciation Catholic School will last for generations. Parents will never again see their children’s smiles. Children will never again feel safe in a classroom or in a church. And we will never again be able to claim we are a moral nation unless we find the courage to act.

This is not just about policy. It is about humanity. It is about morality. It is about the sacred responsibility we have to protect one another, especially our children.

Faith without action is dead. And if we fail to act, more children will die. More families will grieve. And more communities will gather under candlelight vigils, praying prayers that should never have to be prayed.

We owe God more than words. We owe our children more than tears.

We owe them action.