I thought for a moment about simply leaving the title unto itself: “Got Peace?” I don’t know that I need say much more than what was communicated on Sunday. Jesus is Peace. Peace with the Father. Peace with ourselves. Peace with one another.
I think back (not too far for some examples) of times great and small lacking peace. I can honestly say they have been times where Jesus did not seem close by. They are times I had wandered far in thought and deed, not able to clearly hear His voice amidst the noise I had become accustomed to listening.
Do you hear noise? Are you pressed hard by duties or desires or fears or circumstances or memories? In this world you will have trouble.
Scripture tells us that peace is one of the hallmarks of a Christian and a result of an abiding relationship with Jesus. He wants you to have it. He wants to have you. And I do believe they go together.
“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (emphasis mine)
“In me.” United with Jesus, not only in mission, but in listening to Him, in following His ways, His heart for us, for others—in knowing Him. I believe that is a place of Peace—and I know of no other.
I’ve thought a lot about that question lately. I’ve seen many of you encounter obstacles, speed bumps, detours, and downright roadblocks in your paths lately. So, when I hear a question like “How’s it going?” it seems to me there are a couple of options.
First is the option to take that question at its face value and describe the circumstances and conditions of life, be they pleasant or unpleasant, like some kind of cathartic exercise. While identification of real experiences is important, it can be tempting to stop there. Instead, we have the option to describe the circumstances and conditions of life, be they pleasant or unpleasant, and answer the question underneath the question: “How am I doing in the midst of my circumstances?”
If asked on a regular basis, these two questions are useful in knowing one another and knowing oneself. They also, and maybe more importantly, provide good fodder for conversation with our Father.
Every day I have the option to look down (assessing my own circumstances), look around (comparing myself to others or an ideal I have concocted), or look up and take all that I have, all that I experience, and all that I hope for and bring it into the presence of our Holy God, my Savior and my Father, who loves me beyond words.
“Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” 1 Peter 5:6-7
“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33
Think about your life and the words astonishing generosity. Does this describe you? If someone who knew you well spoke of you in this way, how would you feel?
I will say that, for me, pairing those words fits like a square peg in a round hole. When I give, it’s a bit like separating Velcro straps—it can be done, but it’s only gonna take place with a little purposeful force carefully applied. I’ve got all sorts of mixed motivations when I give and I’m aware of quite a few of them. It’s kind of a mess.
How about you? Ever easily receive, or even look forward to, the thanks or other appreciation shown to your act of giving? What does your internal dialogue tell you as you prepare to give? I certainly don’t know your answers and even some of my own remain shrouded.
While recounting one’s acts of generosity is a bit like talking about one’s grand accomplishments in humility, it may be helpful to do some quiet reflection. If I have any understanding of this Christian-walk thing, I think it means, in part, living in such a way that the needs of others are a priority to me.
I believe giving takes practice, an effort of will, and a shift of heart. It means really trusting that the resources I have access to (primarily stuff and time) don’t belong to me, but rather have been placed in my care, and I’ve been invited into stewardship over them. Even more than that, generosity is birthed in a growing heart of compassion for others.
My focus and prayer this week are that God would show me the reality of my own heart and give me opportunity to practice generosity. Join me in this journey?
Failure feels awful. Anxiety, panic, shame. What if I missed my deadline? What if I didn’t pay my bills on time or, worse yet, didn’t have the money because I spent it on impulse purchases? What if I got a bad grade on my test? What if I shared a secret I wasn’t supposed to or lost my temper with a loved one or a stranger? What if I broke my promise to God? Quite frankly, at our best, we’re still a mess. “There is none righteous, no, not one” (Romans 3:10). We all fail. Sometimes these are moral failings, sometimes these are mistakes, sometimes these are poor decisions rooted in some variety of fear.
As bad as it feels to fail, it feels even worse to admit failure. It’s a declaration that I’m not enough. I am not the captain of my ship nor the driver of my destiny. Circumstances and outcomes are not firmly within my control. My desire is to hide failure, even from myself, if it were possible (Garden of Eden, anyone)? But hiding is simply a place of darkness.
By admitting failure, I am presenting the facts before court and entering my weakness into evidence. I plead guilty. That’s a very vulnerable place to be. At that moment I have placed myself in the hands of a judge. Mercy or condemnation is coming, but in recognizing and admitting my failure, I have submitted control of the outcome. No defense, only an admission of weakness or guilt.
I would feel all alone in such a courtroom, but for this fact: I have a friend in Jesus, my Advocate before the Father!
We don’t enter into the presence of the Lord with shouts of victory and triumphant success. We enter through sorrow, through failure. When we fail, when we admit it, we enter into a position of humility. And that is a great place to be—a fragrant offering to God. It’s a place of mourning, of sadness. A place of blessing.
In recent days we’ve heard words of encouragement and hope, Pastor Steve having offered these as we prepare for entry to the next season of Elim. On Sunday, he spoke of caution. Caution is a well-timed admonition because there are no seasons of safety in the Christian experience.
There may be periods of time where tumult subsides and temporal peace seems to take its place. A time such as this invites us into complacency, to let our guard down. Yet we are at war. To be alive upon the earth is to have trouble. Our trouble comes from the world’s system, sin, and Satan.
The world’s system invites me to “go along to get along” and to make my home here and aim for my best life now. It encourages me to participate in Christianized versions of worldly activity and focus. Sin. It crouches at my door, waiting for an opportune moment to strike. For the Christian, sin need not have control, but it is a dangerous foe, nonetheless. Finally, Satan prowls around like a roaring lion seeking someone to devour.
Know your foes, but know your Savior all the better. Know where the pitfalls lie and how to avoid them, but don’t stare deeply or you’ll risk falling in from disorientation. Instead, spend time with the One who redeemed you, who has conquered the world, has power over sin, and has made Satan a defeated foe. Then go, love others as He has first loved us.
“These things I have spoken to you so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)
Last Sunday, Pastor Steve preached to us of our need to become catalysts of change to those around us. He gave us two action items to engage in:
1. Embody God’s emotions.
2. Verbalize God’s voice.
The first of these is profound. To embody is to take on flesh, to encapsulate or surround with something tangible—something visible. To make it known. Jesus did this for us. He made God the Father known to us. “He is the image of the invisible God” (Colossians 1:15).
How can we embody God’s emotions? If we embody another person’s emotions, which some are prone to do, this is identified as emotional entanglement, or enmeshment, potentially requiring therapy. To embody God’s emotions is quite different, however.
You’ll need to know what they are, but not simply in an intellectual sense. Reading about what God values is important, but insufficient for embodiment. Know your Bible, but know your Bible to know the Jesus that it declares. It’s not enough to agree intellectually or to feel a swell of emotion. To embody God’s emotions means they must be lived out—made visible. I would liken this pursuit to that for experiencing peace—a noble endeavor in my estimation.
Internal peace is much more a result than a product. I can’t determine to have peace and produce it through a series of actions or thoughts. True peace is the result of abiding relationship with Jesus; it comes like morning dew settling upon the earth, not like toothpaste pushed through a tube.
That said, it’s not without action that peace comes to fruition. It’s fostered by time spent with Jesus and trust placed upon Him. This happens both in solitude and as we rely on Him and His ways to sustain us in the God-honoring actions we take, as we walk through life’s days and decisions, as we interact with and love the people He has placed us around. This is where we can find the heart of God and the emotions of God.
“Fake it until you make it” is a popular but entirely different philosophy. It asserts that change happens from the outside, that peace can be manufactured through plentiful smiles and a policy of positivity. I prefer to embrace another phrase: “You can’t give what you don’t possess.” There’s no quick fix, there’s no end run around relationship with Jesus, there’s no mocking God. Embodying God’s emotions is costly; it comes at the cost of pride and independence. It’s found in union with Jesus and by His strength. The result is becoming like Jesus, submitting every earthly thing and every desire to the Father.
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