Reclaiming Peace

I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.

THAT CAN’T BE RIGHT.

With a furrowed brow, I (Julie) reread the coach’s letter to parents, laser focused on the paragraph laying out not one, not two, but four competitions scheduled in December, two of which were on school nights.

Four major events, including an expectation to volunteer. Sighing as I added those dates to my family’s calendar, I eyed the obligations already scheduled in overlapping formation on those precious weekends during Advent. Angsty anxiety rears its ugly head when my December calendar starts filling with events over which I have little control.

It wasn’t twenty-four hours later that my friend confessed her own loss of Advent peace. Her teens were the oldest grandkids in the extended family, and she was fretting about how the aunts (her sisters) would engage with them during an extended Christmas visit. The memory of a Memorial Day weekend debacle of misunderstandings and parenting style differences had her tied in proverbial knots.

Should she gently confront now, having conversations ahead of time to defuse possible tensions, and risk offending them? Or should she try to muddle through, keeping an illusion of peace for the sake of her aging parents? She longed for a visit filled with connection, joy, and laughter, but with so many personalities and opinions involved, she didn’t know whether it was possible.

Someone else quietly admitted to job insecurity with their company in the midst of layoffs. With financial losses looming, the budget for Christmas morning, as well as for several expected gift exchange events, felt uncertain at best and teetered on impossible.

My widowed neighbor is navigating all of the “firsts” after losing her spouse. Christmas was her husband’s favorite holiday, and she knows she cannot recreate the spectacle that has been a large part of their family’s traditions.

A coworker’s son is actively job hunting, and the rejection letters have been stressful and disheartening.

A church member is undergoing tests for a potentially difficult diagnosis.

There are so many different ways to lose our peace, aren’t there? Too little time, rocky relationships, strained finances, grief, uncertainty about the future, medical diagnoses, hopes and expectations that do not match reality . . . The list is as infinite and varied as we are.

Is it possible to walk through December without losing our peace? I would argue that on our own, it’s impossible. We have turned Christmas into a major production, complete with all the effort and expectations that get wrapped up in planning and executing such an event. I’ve yet to meet anyone who navigates those days between Thanksgiving and New Year’s unruffled, unrattled, and unfazed.

But with God, it is not only possible, it is a promise. And today’s verse reminds us that we can call upon that promise from moment to moment and day to day without shame. Every time our mind starts to veer toward that vortex of anxiousness over a situation, every time we’re invited into worry by something we have read or heard, we have a choice.

We can accept that invitation into mental and physical chaos as we embrace all the what-ifs, should-haves, and if-onlys, allowing ourselves to get knotted up over regrets or consumed with what might happen. Dwelling on the past or always trying to predict and control the future robs us of the present moment and the joy and beauty to be found there. Or maybe the present moment is filled with the hardest hard. We might long to live in the past or future to escape the present discomfort.

But what if we reject the invitation into chaos, intentionally embracing the remarkable promise of today’s verse: exchanging our worries for the peace that surpasses all understanding, Jesus’ peace?^a

I don’t know about you, but my peace is fragile, thin, brittle, and easily fractured into a million tiny pieces. But the peace Jesus offers? His peace is unyielding, unmoving, unbending.

• It is a strong tower where we can seek shelter (see Proverbs 18:10).
• It is the firm foundation built upon rock that will not wash away in the floodwaters (see Matthew 7:24-27).
• It is the warmth of being tucked securely beneath his wings (see Psalm 91:4).
• It is the sheep recognizing the shepherd’s voice, knowing he is safe to follow (see John 10:27-28).

That is the peace promised to us whenever we ask. When we accept the gift of Jesus’ peace, the circumstances around us may not (immediately or otherwise) be changed, but our perspective shifts. We don’t walk through obstacles or difficult seasons on our own. We are known and seen by Jesus, our Savior and Redeemer (see Romans 10:9; Ephesians 1:7). And as our perspective shifts, hopefully our response shifts as well. We can quiet our mind and body before God, prayerfully asking what part requires an action (or inaction) from us, and what part belongs to God. As we move forward, continually choosing to stay in his peace, we can embrace the joy and beauty to be found in this Advent season no matter the circumstances.

Heavenly Father, thank you that we can exchange our fragile peace for the peace Jesus unconditionally provides. Show us where we have been accepting invitations into chaos rather than intentionally clinging to your peace. Pull us back onto the firm foundation of our faith, keeping us grounded in the truth of your Word and your promises. Continually remind us that we are not alone, we are not forsaken or abandoned, and that we can return to your peace no matter how many times we have started to slip into confusion. Amen.