We began this year with two troubling events—the capture of Venezuelan President Maduro and his wife in their country, and the shooting of Renee Good in Minnesota by an ICE agent. These events disrupted the spirit with which we usually enter a new year. Instead of reflection and hope, we were met with grief and confusion. Yet even in this disruption, there may be an invitation: 2026 may be a year that calls for compassion, courage, and faith, especially as we face moments that break our hearts.
We are not living in ordinary times. Life no longer gently unfolds before us; rather, we must search for it, and sometimes even protect it, in the shadows of fear and uncertainty. Scripture reminds us that light shines in the darkness, but only when we are willing to see it and bear it.
Though very different in context, the capture of President Maduro and the killing of Ms. Good exposes our shared wound—the misuse of power. Around the world, and even in our own nation, power is often justified as necessary, righteous, or inevitable. We hear claims that force brings freedom, that strength ensures peace. Yet we know, from our own history, that power exercised without humility or accountability often wounds the very people it claims to protect. We have seen protests in our own streets and soldiers deployed among our neighbors.
The death of Renee Good confronts us with a painful truth: when authority forgets its sacred responsibility, life becomes fragile for everyone. No person should ever feel that another holds absolute power over their life. Such thinking distorts our humanity and replaces reverence for God with fear of one another. When fear governs our actions, both those who enforce the law and those who live under it suffer. Too often, the voices of the poor, the vulnerable, and the powerless go unheard.
As people of faith, we must name this for what it is. Violence and terror are not only the work of distant enemies; they can also emerge from our own systems, institutions and government. Until we confront this honestly and prayerfully, we risk becoming what we most fear and condemn. The call of the Gospel is not to dominate but to serve, not to rule by force but to love with humility.
In this moment, we are invited to repentance, to courage, and to hope. God calls us to resist the idols of power and to bear witness to the way of the Cross—the way that honors life, seeks justice, and walks humbly before God. Even in the darkness, we trust that God is still at work, calling us to be people who choose compassion over control, mercy over might, and love over fear.
2026 is on us. Let us represent Jesus boldly!
Sunday
From the E-Crier of January 8, 2026. Subscribe to the weekly newsletter.