Only One Surefire Source for Finding Peace

The story is told about the little boy who dumped a package of Jolly Green Giant vegetables into a blender. “What are you doing, Billy?” his mother asked. “I want to see whirled peas!” Most of us might have little interest in whirled peas, but wouldn’t we all like to experience world peace?

Televised beauty pageants seem to have lost much of their popularity, but I remember when contestants would be interviewed and asked, “If chosen Miss So-and-So, what would you like to achieve during your reign?” Some would smile prettily and respond, “World peace!” Good luck with that!

 

Sadly, history has shown us true world peace is more elusive than the mythical pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Throughout time humankind has either been starting wars, in the midst of wars, or trying to conclude wars. Why so much war? There are many reasons: Territorial disputes; access to waterways and natural resources; conflicts over cultures, ideological and religious antagonism; greed; quests for power and dominance; just plain bloodthirst.

 

But that’s the absence of peace on a global scale. What about on a personal level? We find peace to be fleeting there as well. Family conflict, work challenges, financial hardships, physical illness and ailments, aging, and the reality of living in a chaotic world all can disrupt our sense of peace. As a result, we find ourselves dealing with constant worry, sleepless nights, anxiety, and a variety of other ways distress can manifest itself.

 

In search of peace, people try a smorgasbord of hoped-for remedies: Mystical meditation, medication or substance abuse, positive thinking strategies, soothing music, many forms of distraction, even denial. ‘I just won’t think about it!’

 

Yes, it can be difficult to find peace in environments of constant turmoil, but there’s one source we can depend on, a peaceful refuge from the raging sea: Jesus Christ. That was declared in one of the Old Testament prophecies about the coming Messiah: “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on His shoulders. And He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6).

 

We have just celebrated the birth of Christ once more, reflecting on the world-changing meaning and impact of that singular event. From the beginning, peace was central to His message. After John the Baptist was born his father Zechariah, a temple priest, became filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied. He said Jesus’ purpose included, “to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace” (Luke 1:79).

 

Then one night while a group of shepherds was watching over their flocks of sheep, “Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom His favor rests'” (Luke 2:13-14).

 

Why then do we still have so much strife and conflict in our world, if Jesus came to bring peace? 

 

Because the peace He can provide is not a peace that involves treaties and truces and the ceasing of human hostilities. He didn’t come to put an end to earthly, temporal problems. Jesus gives His followers peace that transcends the trials and tribulations that are unavoidable in this life.

 

Just days before His betrayal, mock trial, scourging and crucifixion, Jesus knew His disciples would be distraught to see their leader treated so unjustly. He spoke to reassure them that despite what was about to happen, they need not despair. He said, “Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled; do not be afraid” (John 14:27).

 

Much of the book of Isaiah is filled with gloom and doom, foretelling God’s acts of wrath and judgment. And yet, in the midst of the harsh warnings, the prophet offers this assurance: “[The Lord] will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in You” (Isaiah 26:3). It’s like listening to the evening news, filled with reports of wars, dire health scares, murder and mayhem, and then hearing God tell us, “Don’t fret. It’s okay. I’ve got this.”

 

We find a related passage in the New Testament where we’re admonished, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7).

 

Elvis Presley in 1957 popularized “Peace in the Valley.” Speaking of unwavering confidence in the Lord, the hymn includes this simple refrain: 

“There will be peace in the valley for me, some day
There will be peace in the valley for me, oh Lord I pray
There'll be no sadness, no sorrow
No trouble, trouble I see
There will be peace in the valley for me.”

The little baby who more than 2,000 years ago was proclaimed the Prince of Peace and was promised to be the one to guide our feet into the path of peace, can bring an inner peace to each of us that confounds human reasoning. All we have to do is trust in the Lord and ask Him for it. 

Anniversaries Are Among the Very Best of Celebrations

Anniversaries are fun, aren’t they? At least most of them. We can have a slew of them, depending on how celebratory we’re inclined to be. Birthdays are anniversaries of our birth. Couples celebrate their wedding anniversaries – for many, also their patience, understanding, and perseverance. If we like our job, we can commemorate the anniversary of our hiring. Entrepreneurs can mark the founding of their businesses.

 

Several members of our family celebrate adoption anniversaries, and I know many people who make it a point to annually celebrate the anniversary of their spiritual rebirth.

 

For me, Dec. 20 is an anniversary that signifies I’m still here to celebrate it. That day in 2006 was when I underwent open-heart surgery – four coronary artery bypasses and an ARR, which stands for Aortic Root Replacement. In other words, my entire ascending aorta was replaced after a serious aneurysm had been detected during a routine angiogram.

Open-heart surgery isn’t a phrase that’s in most people’s standard vocabulary, and it wasn’t in mine either until two weeks prior to undergoing the procedure. Having a stent or two put in to open clogged arteries is one thing; having your rib cage splayed open so a cardiothoracic surgeon can get to your heart directly is something quite different.

 

The aneurysm on my aorta was 6 centimeters, more than twice the normal, 2.5-centimeter size for the ascending aorta, so that wasn’t a good thing. Like a balloon inflated beyond its capacity, it could have dissected (burst) at any time. And meeting a surgeon who announces he will be performing the needed corrective surgery isn’t on anyone’s bucket list either. But that’s what I was facing 17 years ago. 

 

Lots of things began racing through my mind. Our youngest daughter was getting married the next spring. My first grandson was due to be born the following summer. And I wasn’t convinced I was finished doing what I’d hoped to accomplish over my lifetime. Like Woody Allen once said, “I’m not afraid of dying. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.”

 

Since my condition wasn’t an emergency, the surgery was scheduled two weeks out. I had to undergo a couple of CT scans in the meantime so the medical team could get a literal picture of the situation. That gave me lots of time to think and pray and deal with a fair amount of anxiety.

 

As I had done during uncertain times in the past, I picked up my Bible and turned to the Psalms. I read several psalms and prayed a lot. I didn’t try bargaining, since I had faith God was in control, working out His plan for me and my family, whatever that happened to be. But I did admit to Him that I wouldn’t mind sticking around for those special events coming up in the next year.

 

On the second day after my diagnosis, I again opened the Psalms and started reading where I’d left off, Psalm 41. When I got to verse 3 the translation I was reading said, “I will raise him from his sickbed and heal him of his disease.” Wow! That verse might as well have been printed in neon lights. I hadn’t been seeking a specific “word from the Lord,” as some folks call it, but there it was, as if God were saying, “Don’t worry, my child. I’ve got this – it will be all right.”

 

Other translations express this verse in slightly different ways, but almost instantly I was experiencing “the peace of God, which transcends all understanding,” as Philippians 4:7 promises those who trust in the Lord. Years later I came across a similar verse from another psalm, also written by King David. It read, “For great is Your love toward me; You have delivered me from the depths of the grave” (Psalm 86:13).

 

Prayer is a funny thing. When things are going great, we might give prayer lip service – sometimes quite literally. But during difficult times prayer becomes indispensable, like a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean during a severe storm. In Philippians 4:6 we’re instructed, “in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” Then the aforementioned “peace of God…will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

 

I know prayers are not demands that God is obligated to fulfill. He’s not, as a friend of mine once said, a “short-order cook.” But 17 years ago, the Lord guided me to the right hospital and the right surgeon at the right time, bringing me through that surgery so I could experience the gift of life many times over. It’s an anniversary I’ll always treasure.

We Can Hear the Bells – and It’s Not Even Christmas

Christmas is still nine months away. I don’t want to cause you to panic. The Christmas decorations shouldn’t be up until May, April at the earliest. But I heard an account about a famous Christmas carol that can’t wait. It carries a poignant message that fits where we are today.

We all know the carol, “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day,” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, a much-celebrated poet and literary critic. Longfellow’s probably best known for poems such as “Paul Revere’s Ride” and “Song of Hiawatha,” but his poem-turned-carol resonates with many of us. Considering the story behind this heartwarming holiday favorite, which traces back to the Civil War, makes it even more meaningful. 

 

In 1861, Longfellow’s wife Fannie died after her dress caught on fire. Henry, awakened from a nap by her screams, had attempted to extinguish the flames, first with a rug and then with his body. However, Fannie already had suffered severe burns and passed away the following morning. Henry’s own burns were so serious he was unable to attend her funeral.

 

While still mourning his wife’s death, Longfellow experienced more family heartache in March 1863. His 18-year-old son Charles Appleton Wadsworth (known as Charley), the oldest of the six children, left their Cambridge, Mass. home to enlist in the Union army to fight in the Civil War. Charley soon merited a commission as a second lieutenant, but before he could see combat contracted “camp fever,” one of several forms of serious illnesses, and returned home for several months to recover.

 

The young man overcame the disease and rejoined his unit in August 1863. His father was dining alone in December when he received word that Charley had been severely wounded in the Mine Run campaign in Virginia. Longfellow and another son, Ernest, went to Washington, D.C. to be by Charley’s side when he arrived from the battlefield for treatment. The initial grim diagnosis that “paralysis might ensue” was changed to a more favorable report that Charley would recover, but would be “long in healing.”

 

Back in Cambridge on Dec. 25, 1863, Longfellow, then a 57-year-old widowed father of six, began to write a poem to capture his depth of feelings, not only for his loss and the pain of seeing his suffering son, but also to capture his despair over the turmoil of a nation divided against itself in a bloody civil war. 

 

As he was reflecting on all of this, Longfellow heard church bells ringing and the singing of “peace on earth.” Here are the original words from his poem, which was later set to music:

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play, 
and wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom 
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South, 
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said; 
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; 
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men."

 

Can you visualize this emotionally tortured man, grieving for his wife, shattered by the narrow escape of his oldest son from paralysis or even death, and wounded by his beloved United States of America being torn apart by strife and disunity? But then he heard the ringing of the bells, lifting his spirits and renewing his hope. We need not wait for Christmas. We can all cling to the closing words of Longfellow’s poem, “God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; the Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail, with peace on earth, good will to men.” 

 

In Luke 2:14, we’re told one of the reasons Jesus Christ came was to bring, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men!” Another translation says, “on earth peace among those with whom He is pleased!” With discord and conflict so pervasive, we could use a huge dose of the peace that can come only a life-changing, transforming relationship with the Lord, the “peace of God that transcends all understanding” (Philippians 4:7). 

 

Jesus assured His followers, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” (John 14:27). Years ago a popular song told of “looking for love in all the wrong places.” Apparently, as Longfellow observed in his now-famous poem, many of us are looking for peace in all the wrong places, too.

 

By trusting in Christ, even in the most dire, seemingly hopeless moments, there is always eternal hope. As Titus 2:13 expresses it, “looking for the blessed hope and the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Christ Jesus.” 

The One Certainty We Never Want to Talk About

I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty weary of all the non-stop, 24/7 COVID-19 virus reporting and commentary. Yes, it’s a serious issue. And yes, we all need to take necessary precautions. Those who don’t are endangering both themselves and others. Yes, this is not the time to cast all care to the winds. Maybe we’ll never have that kind of “time” again. So, wear a mask when in crowds, keep your distance, repress the urge to shake hands and hug, keep washing and sanitizing your hands regardless, and try to refrain from touching your face – no matter how lovely or handsome it happens to be.

But I can see the other side, too. Folks who, just as soon as restrictions began to be lifted, couldn’t wait to hop in the car, head to the mall, go to the beach, stroll through the park, or resume whatever favorite activities they’ve been denied. We’re all worn out byf the incessant gloom and doom, and have grown increasingly eager to recapture some brightness and hope. As the Scriptures affirm, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life” (Proverbs 13:12).

By now, even those most stable emotionally have nearly succumbed to the drumbeat of death tallies and less-than-optimistic projections for the future. Warding off a dreaded virus isn’t the way we desire to spend the immediate future, let alone the rest of our lives.

It seems, however, there’s an issue in play far greater than enduring the inconveniences of not being free to go here and there, doing this and that, as we were so accustomed. The daily statistics serve as a dismal reminder of a certainty: Death. They used to say, “The only things certain in life are death and taxes.” Well, even taxes have been postponed for the time being, if you haven’t yet filed your income tax return for last year. But death, it’s right there, staring us in the face. And if we forget, the grim news anchors and reporters on ABC, CBS, NBC, and cable news outlets seem to take a perverse delight in providing us with reminders.

Deep down we know the truth. Our days are numbered. One day, ready or not, we’re going to pass from this life. But not today, right? Or tomorrow, either. Or next week, or next month, or next year, if you don’t mind. As actor/director Woody Allen once said, “I’m not afraid of dying. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.” We all can relate.

Not to add to the morbidity of these days, but this raises an even more profound issue. It comes down to a matter of faith – and where your faith happens to be. If you lack faith, trusting only in luck, karma, good fortune, serendipity or something similar, it’s hard to face each new day. With every tomorrow seeming more tenuous than ever, it’s easy to succumb to panic, despair, fear, or other unproductive emotions. How can one find peace amid such chaos?

That doesn’t mean those of us who find hope and assurance from the teachings of the Bible are exempt from anxiety and stress. Faith in Jesus Christ doesn’t mitigate the fact that we’re flesh and blood, with adrenaline and other stress hormones coursing through our veins to enable us to respond to external threats, whether it be a burglar or an unseen virus.

And yet, if we make the conscious decision to reestablish our trust in the Lord, and not the doomsday newscasters, we can indeed experience “the peace of God that transcends all understanding” described in Philippians 4:7. How can we have such peace, when everything we’ve known and relied on seems under attack? That’s why we’re told this peace “transcends” or “passes” all understanding. We can’t manufacture it. It truly comes from beyond ourselves. From God.

As much as we hate hearing about those who become victims of the dreaded virus, we can draw a positive from this dire time. It gives us an opportunity to do a personal reappraisal revisiting where our faith really lies. When circumstances are going well, we can claim to have faith – but we really don’t need it then. “I’ve got this,” we deceptively tell ourselves, thinking we’ve got every duck in a row. Ultimately, we don’t.

I like what Proverbs 24:10 has to say about this: “If you falter in times of trouble, how small is your strength.” We’ve all been riding an emotional rollercoaster over the past few months, hoping for good news but hearing mostly bad. But in the end, what’s our foundation? From where do we draw our strength? When it feels like we’re “walking through the valley of the shadow of death” (Psalm 23:4), where do we find ourselves turning for comfort and reassurance?

Peace: For Many, It’s the Missing Piece

This snowy egret, unlike many of us, appears to be experiencing
an interlude of genuine peace.

“All I want is some peace and quiet!” Have you ever said that? In turbulent times, peace seems as rare as hope, about which I wrote recently. Ironically, these days even peace officers are hard-pressed to find peace. And quiet? What’s that? The barrage of noise surrounding us is relentless, powered by technology at every turn. We can’t escape noise. As if we’re afraid to be without it, we take it with us everywhere – on our smartphones, tablets and headphones.

Even if we succeed in finding quiet, maybe by leaving high-tech gadgets behind and fleeing to a remote setting civilization has barely penetrated, peace eludes our grasp. In this world, conflict and strife reign, not peace. Troubled thoughts, financial pressures, persistent aches and pains, relationship conflicts, even random worries, turn our minds into churning seas.

And yet, as He prepared to endure the most horrendous moments anyone in the flesh could experience, Jesus Christ promised, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” (John 14:27).

That sounds great, but how can we find peace, much less sustain it, when circumstances conspire to keep us from it?

It helps to understand that when Jesus spoke about peace, He wasn’t referring to momentary, idyllic states of mind. He used the Hebrew word,shalom, which captures much more than just calmness or tranquility. The “Prince of Peace,” as Isaiah 9:6 describes Him, was offering something of much greater breadth and depth – well-being, wholeness, prosperity – that’s available to an individual, a group of people, or even a place.

Recently I was visiting with a friend dealing with stage 4 lung cancer along with the aftermath of another chemotherapy treatment. He talked about “the peace that passes all understanding,” as it’s expressed in Philippians 4:6. Even though he couldn’t explain why, my friend stated he truly felt peace in the midst of pain, fatigue, and his uncertain future on this side of eternity.

It occurs to me that this peace is the missing piece, the prescription for many people barely managing to survive, but unable to thrive. They’re angry, frustrated, mentally and emotionally exhausted, fearing the next straw that might be laid across the proverbial camel’s back.

Contrast such a mindset with the assurance of Isaiah 26:3, “[God] will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.” Search as hard as we can, wherever we can, as long as we want, but nowhere else can we find this “perfect peace” that’s offered through the transforming, never-ending relationship with the God of all creation.

Even when we’re enjoying a moment of calm, it’s like a ship taking refuge in a safe harbor as a major storm approaches. Sooner or later, we have to venture back into the unpredictable seas, never knowing what lies ahead of us – but certain there will be more storms, perhaps even more intense than before.

That’s the bad news. But the good news is in the midst of the storm, the Lord hasn’t forgotten how to walk on the water. 

In 1873, attorney Horatio Spafford must have felt a kinship with Job. Two years earlier he had suffered major real estate losses in the great Chicago fire, and his four-year-old son had succumbed to scarlet fever. Hoping to enjoy a much-needed respite from his travails, Spafford planned to take his wife and four daughters to Europe. When an urgent business matter detained him, he ushered his wife, Anna, and daughters to their ship, the Ville du Havre, got them settled in a cabin, then sent them on ahead.

During the early morning hours of Nov. 23, 1873, the Ville du Havre collided with an iron sailing vessel. Within two hours, the ship had sunk. His four daughters were among the 226 fatalities, with only Anna among the 47 people rescued as she clung unconscious to a piece of wreckage. A cable sent to her husband read, “Saved Alone.”

Spafford immediately booked passage to join his wife. One evening during the voyage the ship’s captain informed him they were passing over the area where the ship had gone down. Returning to his cabin, Horatio scribbled down the thought that filled his heart: “It is well; the will of God be done.” Later he wrote a hymn, “It Is Well with My Soul,” based on those words.

Only with “the peace of God that passes all understanding” could Horatio Spafford find comfort and write that “peace like a river attendeth my way” while standing on a ship sailing over the spot where his children had perished. Truly, as Jesus said, it’s peace “not as the world gives.”

This reality prompted the apostle Paul, no stranger to turmoil and suffering himself, to encourage his brothers and sisters in Christ, “Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times and in every way” (2 Thessalonians 3:16). Whatever each of us might face today or in the future, may this be true for us as well.

What the World Needs Now Is . . . Serenity?

Could anything be more peaceful, more serene than a quiet
pond on a warm day with a gentle breeze passing by?

A new year has begun, but if you could give the world a belated Christmas gift, what would it be? How about…serenity?

It seems the world around us offers anything but serenity. Violence, wars, crime and terrorism command the headlines most days. Predictions of economic disaster worry us. We’ve lost trust in our government leaders to do the right thing. Extreme weather and the threat of natural disasters keep us unsettled. The fear of receiving bad news, such as having loved ones encounter grave diseases or tragic accidents, keeps us in a state of anxiety. Even positives in life – cell phones, social media, the Internet, incessant news and talk – are enough to disturb the peace in our lives.

It’s gotten to the point where if you say the word, “serenity,” we wonder, “What in the heck is that?” Is it reclining in a field surrounded by flowers on a warm, sunny day with a gentle breeze brushing our face? Sitting in our favorite chair with an engrossing book without the constant clamor of TV in the background? Having a pleasant conversation with a friend without the risk of emotions boiling over into a heated argument? Or listening to a symphony, its familiar melodies and harmonies, pauses and crescendos calming our minds and touching our hearts?

Most of us are familiar with the so-called “Serenity Prayer” used by organizations like Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage the change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.” I like how it starts: “God.” Try as we might, I’m convinced true, lasting peace isn’t possible apart from God.

Yes, we can easily find distractions or choose to ignore the chaos surrounding us. But serenity – the “peace that passes all understanding,” as Philippians 4:7 describes it – can only be found in a sovereign God who rules and overrules our circumstances and the troubling issues we confront every day.

Thinking about the Serenity Prayer, which originally was an untitled prayer by American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr, did you know there’s more to his prayerful reflection? It continues:

Living one day at a time; 


Enjoying one moment at a time; 


Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; 


Taking, as He did, this sinful world
 as it is, not as I would have it;

Trusting that He will make all things right 
if I surrender to His Will;

That I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him


Forever in the next.

Amen.

So in Niebuhr’s view, serenity is more than being able to distinguish between what we can change and what we cannot. It’s cultivating the capacity to live a day at a time, a moment at a time. It’s accepting the hard times in life as well as the easy ones.

It’s seeking to see this broken world as God sees it, rather than the way we’d like it to be, trusting He’s busily at work to redeem and reconcile His people and His creation to His original design. And it’s being able to look past this life, holding great anticipation for the life to come.

Shortly before going to the cross as the atoning sacrifice for the sins of mankind, Jesus voiced these words of encouragement to His followers: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” (John 14:27).

If we can believe that promise, living and acting according to it, we’ll discover serenity isn’t as far from our grasp as we suspected.