December 16, 2024

The Promise of Peace: Finding Shalom in Life's In-Between

As the Christmas season begins, many of us find ourselves longing for peace. but how can we truly experience lasting peace?

As the Christmas season begins, many of us find ourselves longing for peace. It's a universal desire that spans cultures and generations – the hope for tranquility in our hearts and harmony in our world. But in a reality often marked by chaos and uncertainty, how can we truly experience lasting peace?

The concept of peace goes far beyond the absence of conflict. In Hebrew, it's encapsulated in the rich word "shalom," which encompasses wholeness, completeness, well-being, and flourishing. This isn't just a fleeting moment of calm, but a transformative state of being that touches every aspect of our lives.

Ancient prophecies speak of a "Prince of Peace" who would come to usher in this profound shalom. This isn't a passive ruler, but one who actively fights for our wholeness and flourishing. It's a promise of someone who will wrestle against all that fragments us – internal struggles, broken relationships, and our separation from the divine.

Yet, as we look around, it's clear that this promise hasn't fully materialized. We still experience pain, loss, and brokenness. This tension between promise and reality invites us into a posture of honest waiting. We're encouraged to acknowledge our unmet longings and struggles, rather than masking them with forced cheerfulness.

Consider the story of a young woman sitting by her brother's grave in the depths of an English winter. The pain of unexpected loss felt overwhelming, a stark reminder that life doesn't always unfold as we hope. Many of us can relate to such moments – when circumstances seem to mock our desire for peace.

It's tempting to believe that peace will only come when our external situation improves. We tell ourselves, "If only my relationship would heal..." or "Once I get that promotion..." But basing our peace on circumstances leaves us hostage to life's inevitable ups and downs. Instead, we're invited to root our peace in something far more stable – a person, not a set of conditions.

This requires a radical shift in mindset. Rather than waiting for peace, we learn to wait with peace. It means choosing to hold onto tranquility even when our world feels chaotic. This isn't about denying difficulty, but about finding an anchor in the storm.

C.S. Lewis captured this beautifully when he said that life with God is "not immunity from difficulties, but peace in difficulties." It's a supernatural way of living that often baffles those around us. When we can say, "Things are hard, but I'm experiencing a deep peace," it's a powerful testimony to something beyond our circumstances.

For those feeling overwhelmed, it's worth considering: Has your focus on your problems caused your view of God to shrink? The Christmas story reminds us that the Prince of Peace entered a world of profound chaos – political oppression, poverty, and violence. If he could step into that turmoil, surely he can enter our current struggles as well.

So how do we practically cultivate this peace? It starts with a simple yet profound action: turning our attention. Like a martial arts instructor constantly reminding students "Eyes on who?" we need to regularly redirect our focus to the source of true peace. This isn't a one-time decision, but a continual practice of reorientation.

The season of Advent invites us not only to wait but also to expect. It's a call to prepare our hearts for something new, even when that feels vulnerable. Many of us, burned by past disappointments, have learned to expect very little. We guard our hearts against hope, thinking it safer.

But Advent challenges us to be both realistic about our present struggles and audacious in our hope for the future. It's like a caring pastor who acknowledges our wounds while also being a bold prophet declaring God's promises. We're encouraged to lift our eyes beyond what we can currently see and imagine a brighter future.

This expectant hope isn't just for our personal lives. The angelic proclamation of "peace on earth" reminds us that God's shalom is meant for the entire world. We're not passive spectators in this unfolding story, but active participants. Expecting God to move means we move too.

What might this look like? It could mean volunteering at a shelter to bring shalom to the poor. It might involve reaching across political divides to have dinner with someone who thinks differently. Perhaps it's supporting addiction recovery programs or simply befriending someone who feels isolated. We're called to be peacemakers, not just peacekeepers – actively working to bring wholeness and flourishing to our communities.

The apostle Paul gives us practical advice for cultivating peace: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, 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)

This passage reminds us of the dual nature of peacemaking – it involves both worship and work. We're called to be faith-filled worshipers, continually declaring the truth about who God is, even when circumstances seem to contradict it. At the same time, we're invited to actively embody shalom in our families, workplaces, and communities.

Living in this tension – between the "already" of what God has done and the "not yet" of what's still to come – isn't easy. It's a place of both pain and promise, difficulty and hope. But it's precisely in this in-between space that the Christian life unfolds.

French writer Simone Weil described the essence of faith as "waiting, watching, and expecting." We can't force peace or save ourselves, but we can keep our eyes fixed on the One who brings true shalom. In this sense, we're always an Advent people – living in anticipation of the beautiful story God is writing, even when we can't see the next chapter.

As we navigate life's complexities, may we find the courage to be honest about our struggles while also daring to hope. May we learn to wait with peace, grounded in something far greater than our circumstances. And may we actively participate in bringing shalom to our world, one small act of peacemaking at a time.

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