"The Breath Between the Shadows" - 01/10/2026

In the quiet of a winter morning on January 7, 2026, the city of Minneapolis was once again enveloped in a heavy shroud of mourning. The loss of Renee Nicole Good, a mother and poet, during a federal immigration enforcement operation has sent ripples of grief through the streets of South Minneapolis, mere blocks from where the world previously stood still in vigil. As the snow falls on the makeshift memorials of Portland Avenue, the division within the national heart seems to widen, sparking protests and a profound sense of uncertainty. In this moment of tension and collective sorrow, the community of faith is called to look beyond the clamor of the headlines to find the sacred stillness where the Divine weeps with the brokenhearted.

Scriptures
"A bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench. In faithfulness, he will bring forth justice."
- Isaiah 42:3 (NIV)

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."
- Psalm 34:18 (NIV)


Reflection
In the quiet, cold reaches of the North, we understand the weight of a heavy winter. The snow has a way of leveling the landscape, covering the rough edges of the world in a singular, silent white. Yet, this week, the silence coming from the streets of Minneapolis feels different. It is a silence filled with the heavy ache of a family suddenly missing a mother’s voice, a poet’s pen, and a neighbor’s presence. When a life ends in a moment of confusion and suddenness, the ripple of sorrow does not stop at city limits or state lines; it travels through the heart of the Church, calling us to a place of deep, contemplative mourning.

The prophet Isaiah offers an image of the Divine that is profoundly moving in its restraint. We are told of a God who encounters the "bruised reed." A reed that is bruised is not yet broken, but it is fragile, leaning precariously against the wind. In our world, so often defined by strength, power, and the clashing of certainties, the Spirit of God moves with a startling tenderness. This is not a Presence that comes to sweep away the messiness of our human divisions with a heavy hand. Instead, it is a Presence that kneels in the snow beside the flickering wick, shielding the tiny flame from being quenched by the storms of fear and anger that blow across our land.

To look upon this tragedy through the eyes of faith is to move beyond the headlines and into the sacred space of the "brokenhearted." We see a six-year-old child whose world has been tilted on its axis. We see a family grappling with a loss that words cannot fully encompass. This is where the "matured response" of the follower of Christ begins—not in the taking up of stones or the shouting of slogans, but in the quiet, resolute commitment to honor the sanctity of every breath. The justice of God (מִשְׁפָּט, mishpat) is often less about the decrees of men and more about the restoration of wholeness. It is the faithfulness that refuses to let the light of a human soul be forgotten in the clamor of the world’s debates.

As the sun sets over the plains of North Dakota, casting long, blue shadows over the drifts, we are invited to be the ones who hold the silence. We pray for the peace that "passes understanding," a peace that does not ignore the brokenness but sits within it. We ask for the grace to see the "bruised reed" in our neighbor, the "dimly burning wick" in our enemy, and the divine image in the one who is gone. In this holy wonder, we find that we are not called to solve the world’s divisions in a day, but to be the gentle hands of the One who refuses to let the bruised be broken.


Prayer
O God of the Still Small Voice, our hearts are heavy with the news of a life lost and a city in pain. We lift up the family of Renee, asking that Your comfort would be a warm mantle in this cold season. Grant us the wisdom to seek Your face in the midst of the world’s confusion. Teach us to handle the fragility of our neighbors with the same tenderness You show to us. May Your peace, which knows no borders, settle upon our hearts and our nation this night. Amen.