A recent story of a rescue in Kenosha, Wisconsin is an important reminder that our role as police officers is far more than simply the enforcement of laws; we also have a daily opportunity to extend grace and mercy to the people in our community. What Kenosha Officers Sawyer and Thorpe did on that frozen afternoon captures something essential about our profession – and about the Christian worldview – that has shaped my understanding of policing.
When Officer Sawyer arrived on scene, he didn’t pause to parse penal codes or ask if the man in the water had broken any laws. He grabbed a flotation device, deployed his throw bag, and began to talk – calmly, continuously, and intentionally.
“I’m going to throw this to you…hopefully we get this done in one chance,” he said, then coached the victim through each agonizing pull as he and Thorpe hauled him across the ice, stopping to let the man rest and regain strength. The department later praised his “quick thinking, professionalism, and training,” but what stands out to me is his tone: steady communication under stress, mercy wrapped in tactical discipline.
If you ask most cops what we do all day, we’ll tell you it’s far more “people work” than “paperwork.” We enforce laws, but we also protect culture; we stand between predators and victims, chaos and order, fear and peace. In The Truth in True Crime, I argue that every crime scene is a mirror, revealing what we really believe about the value of human life, the importance of justice, and the role of sacrifice. Incidents like Kenosha expose the same truth in reverse: every rescue reveals a conviction that a stranger’s life is worth our time, our effort, and sometimes our safety.
From a Christian perspective, human life isn’t valuable because the legislature said so this session; it’s valuable because every man and woman is created in the image of God. That imago Dei foundation explains why officers feel a moral pull to act even when there’s no clear benefit to themselves. Scripture depicts governing authorities as “ministers” of God’s justice, tasked with restraining evil and protecting the innocent—an assignment that is bigger than traffic codes and municipal ordinances. When Officer Sawyer keeps talking to a stranger in freezing water, pacing the rescue so the man can rest, he’s doing more than completing a call; he’s treating a fellow image‑bearer as someone worth saving.
But is that kind of rescue legally required in every state? Not exactly. The law’s expectations are uneven and surprisingly thin.
In the United States, a “duty to rescue” is rare; most jurisdictions do not require bystanders to intervene for strangers in peril, and only a handful create general duties to report or assist in certain situations. Even then, these statutes are rarely enforced and typically satisfied by calling 911 rather than wading into an icy river. Officers, of course, have broader duties than civilians, especially when someone is in custody or when they themselves created the danger, and they can face liability if they act recklessly in a rescue, which is why many states pair these expectations with Good Samaritan protections. But the bottom line is simple: what Officers Sawyer and Thorpe did goes beyond the minimum threshold of legal obligation; it rises to the level of moral calling.
That distinction matters.
If you think law enforcement is merely about rule enforcement, then the “best” officer is simply the strictest technician of statutes and procedures. But if you recognize, as I argue in The Truth in True Crime and elsewhere on this site, that every vocation reflects deeper truths about God’s character and our design, then policing is also a form of neighbor love lived out in uniform. The law can tell us how far we must go; the Christian worldview tells us why we should go farther. It tells us that it’s not enough to avoid doing harm; we are called, when we can do so wisely, to actively seek the good of the people we serve. The law can tell us how far we must go; the Christian worldview tells us why we should go farther. Share on X
That’s why stories like Kenosha’s icy rescue are so important right now. They remind us that, at its best, this profession is populated by men and women who are willing to drag a stranger across the ice, one slow pull at a time, simply because someone made in God’s image is in trouble. The penal code may not demand that kind of sacrifice in every circumstance, but the God who grounds our notion of justice certainly does.
Are you a police officer who hasn’t yet trusted the Savior who can help understand your purpose and mission? If so, there is no better time than now to embrace the source of all truth. The guidance and protection of God is available for anyone who seeks Him.
