Shepherd's Heard 1/9/26
This has been a disheartening week in the news for our nation. Senior Pastor Tara Beth Leach wrote the below reflection and prayer of lament that we are sharing as this week's Shepherd's Heart.
This has been a disheartening week in the news for our nation. A mother, Renee Nicole Good, has been killed after a confusing and chaotic confrontation. This is another tragic display of a deeply divided world. Families are grieving. People in places like Venezuela are living with deep uncertainty about what tomorrow will bring. This feels like unprecedented territory for many Americans, and we question what the future holds.
And here at home, many are feeling the strain of a divided world. Many are watching neighbors, friends, and fellow Christians speak past one another, holding signs and slogans that reflect very different fears and convictions. We are witnessing violence and the threat of violence, deep political division, fear being amplified, and human dignity treated as expendable.
We are watching institutions strain, truth contested, and many - specially the vulnerable -left feeling unsafe, unseen, or unheard.
While many of us are not affected by these events, we feel the weight. We sense that something is not right. We feel the pull to take sides, to defend, to react. And still, beneath all of it, there is grief. We feel the grief over loss of life, a fear that is growing over a world that feels increasingly fragmented.
It is no wonder that so many of us feel unsettled in our souls.
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As Christians, we must also pay attention to how we are being formed in moments like this. We have to ask hard questions.
How does God see people, and how are people being spoken about right now?
Scripture tells us that every person bears the image of God. Yet much of our public discourse reduces people to threats, enemies, or problems to be eliminated.
When language dehumanizes, it trains our hearts to justify harm. Followers of Jesus are called to resist that formation, even when fear or anger feels justified.
And how do we position ourselves when some actively seek out or incite violence against their own neighbors?
We do not meet violence with silence, and we do not meet it with celebration. We refuse to participate - through words, posts, or private approval - and anything that glorifies harm or mocks death. We pray for repentance and restraint. We support the work of peace. And we commit ourselves again to the way of Christ, who rejected the sword and loved His enemies.
This does not require us to deny complexity. We can acknowledge that people experience these realities differently, without surrendering our moral clarity.
Christian faith does not flatten nuance, but it does draw clear boundaries. Death is never something to celebrate. Dehumanization is never neutral. And violence against our neighbors is never compatible with the way of Jesus.
*********************
Scripture does not ask God’s people to look away from moments like this. The Bible is honest about the reality of a broken world, about nations in turmoil, systems that wound, and hearts that grow hard.
And in those moments, God’s people do not rush to easy answers. They lament.
Lament is a spiritual practice for times exactly like these. It is not partisan posturing or reactive outrage. It is a faithful refusal to normalize what is wrong. Lament tells the truth about suffering, injustice, violence, and fear, and then brings that truth before God.
Lament slows us down when the world demands instant reaction. It keeps our hearts soft when cynicism feels easier. And it anchors us in a hope that does not deny reality but trusts that God is still at work in it.
As followers of Jesus, we are not formed first by headlines or algorithms. We are formed by prayer, Scripture, and the way of Christ.
That means we resist language that dehumanizes. We refuse to let fear be our guide. And we commit ourselves again to being people of peace, truth, courage, and love, right where God has placed us.
**************************
Let us pray.
God of mercy and truth, we come to You disturbed and weary.
Teach us how to mourn what is broken without turning on one another.
We grieve the violence we see, a woman and mother killed, a family shattered, a name spoken in sorrow and shock.
Death is never just another headline.
We lament the fear that grips our communities, and the deep divisions that fracture our common life.
We lift before you those living in uncertainty,
the people of Venezuela,
some may be rejoicing, others gripped by fear and uncertainty.
Where instability and unanswered questions shape daily life in ways that we cannot imagine.
We lament the ways power fails to serve the common good,
when authority is exercised without wisdom or care.
We grieve when there is an erosion of trust,
and the ways human lives are diminished or dismissed.
We confess that we, too, are tempted by anger without wisdom, certainty without humility, and withdrawal instead of love.
Forgive us, O God.
Hold those who feel unsafe. Protect the vulnerable. Strengthen those who labor for peace and justice. Give wisdom to leaders and moral courage to all of us.
Spirit of the living God, do not let our hearts grow cold. Teach us to lament without despair, to speak truth without hatred, and to live as people shaped by Your kingdom.
How long, O Lord? We wait for You.
Amen.
And here at home, many are feeling the strain of a divided world. Many are watching neighbors, friends, and fellow Christians speak past one another, holding signs and slogans that reflect very different fears and convictions. We are witnessing violence and the threat of violence, deep political division, fear being amplified, and human dignity treated as expendable.
We are watching institutions strain, truth contested, and many - specially the vulnerable -left feeling unsafe, unseen, or unheard.
While many of us are not affected by these events, we feel the weight. We sense that something is not right. We feel the pull to take sides, to defend, to react. And still, beneath all of it, there is grief. We feel the grief over loss of life, a fear that is growing over a world that feels increasingly fragmented.
It is no wonder that so many of us feel unsettled in our souls.
**********************
As Christians, we must also pay attention to how we are being formed in moments like this. We have to ask hard questions.
How does God see people, and how are people being spoken about right now?
Scripture tells us that every person bears the image of God. Yet much of our public discourse reduces people to threats, enemies, or problems to be eliminated.
When language dehumanizes, it trains our hearts to justify harm. Followers of Jesus are called to resist that formation, even when fear or anger feels justified.
And how do we position ourselves when some actively seek out or incite violence against their own neighbors?
We do not meet violence with silence, and we do not meet it with celebration. We refuse to participate - through words, posts, or private approval - and anything that glorifies harm or mocks death. We pray for repentance and restraint. We support the work of peace. And we commit ourselves again to the way of Christ, who rejected the sword and loved His enemies.
This does not require us to deny complexity. We can acknowledge that people experience these realities differently, without surrendering our moral clarity.
Christian faith does not flatten nuance, but it does draw clear boundaries. Death is never something to celebrate. Dehumanization is never neutral. And violence against our neighbors is never compatible with the way of Jesus.
*********************
Scripture does not ask God’s people to look away from moments like this. The Bible is honest about the reality of a broken world, about nations in turmoil, systems that wound, and hearts that grow hard.
And in those moments, God’s people do not rush to easy answers. They lament.
Lament is a spiritual practice for times exactly like these. It is not partisan posturing or reactive outrage. It is a faithful refusal to normalize what is wrong. Lament tells the truth about suffering, injustice, violence, and fear, and then brings that truth before God.
Lament slows us down when the world demands instant reaction. It keeps our hearts soft when cynicism feels easier. And it anchors us in a hope that does not deny reality but trusts that God is still at work in it.
As followers of Jesus, we are not formed first by headlines or algorithms. We are formed by prayer, Scripture, and the way of Christ.
That means we resist language that dehumanizes. We refuse to let fear be our guide. And we commit ourselves again to being people of peace, truth, courage, and love, right where God has placed us.
**************************
Let us pray.
God of mercy and truth, we come to You disturbed and weary.
Teach us how to mourn what is broken without turning on one another.
We grieve the violence we see, a woman and mother killed, a family shattered, a name spoken in sorrow and shock.
Death is never just another headline.
We lament the fear that grips our communities, and the deep divisions that fracture our common life.
We lift before you those living in uncertainty,
the people of Venezuela,
some may be rejoicing, others gripped by fear and uncertainty.
Where instability and unanswered questions shape daily life in ways that we cannot imagine.
We lament the ways power fails to serve the common good,
when authority is exercised without wisdom or care.
We grieve when there is an erosion of trust,
and the ways human lives are diminished or dismissed.
We confess that we, too, are tempted by anger without wisdom, certainty without humility, and withdrawal instead of love.
Forgive us, O God.
Hold those who feel unsafe. Protect the vulnerable. Strengthen those who labor for peace and justice. Give wisdom to leaders and moral courage to all of us.
Spirit of the living God, do not let our hearts grow cold. Teach us to lament without despair, to speak truth without hatred, and to live as people shaped by Your kingdom.
How long, O Lord? We wait for You.
Amen.