...gathering beside the flood

So now let peace and justice be never far apart,

but flowing like a river for every thirsty heart.

These two shall be united, a mighty flowing stream,

upon whose banks we gather to work and pray and dream.

---Ken Medema, 2003

One thing I’ve noticed lately…peace does not have a very powerful reputation. In an age where even our words are weaponized, the idea that peace could be strong, or courageous, salvific in a world of self-made chaos—such an idea is foreign, unsettling, maybe even a little bit radical.

Now it’s true, that there can be an uneasy peace-and-quiet sort of peace overlaid like a coverlet on a reality of fear and hatred and warring. That creepy sort of quiet from suspense movies, right before the villain bounds out from his hiding place to hatch his dastardly plan on his poor, doomed, should-have-known-better victim.

But there is a powerful peace, and it is real. This peace is rooted in justice—justice that seeks the good of the village, and the equitable treatment of neighbor. When this steady, seeking justice and this powerful, persistent peace join streams, their rolling becomes a massive force that is transformative and healing. Beside that flood we can gather, and dream a new way to live together.

Because empowered peace can change the world.

...stay with me

Go to dark Gethsemane, you who feel the tempter's power;
your Redeemer's conflict see; watch with Him one bitter hour;
turn not from His griefs away; learn of Jesus Christ to pray.
--- James Montgomery, 1822

They went to a place, a garden, Gethsemane; 
and Jesus said to his friends, 
"I need you. Stay here with me while I pray."
He took some of those dearest to him, 
and his distress and heartache became evident.
He said to these beloved,
"My heart is breaking; how can I go on?
draw close, abide, with me, sit up a while with me now."
---Mark 14:32-34 (para. laca)

Stay. Just stay here with me. While I wrestle with my destiny. While I stare into what looks an awful lot like an abyss. While I question this whole crazy ride we've been on together the past few years. While I wonder if the voice I heard was the voice of God, or just some voice in my head, telling me things I wanted to, needed to hear. While I decide whether to walk away from the whole deal. Whether to blend into the Passover crowd, wander back to the Galilee, pick up a hammer and nail, and become just another dusty craftsman, like my father before me. Let the idea of some beckoning Father fade away into distant memory, let someone else save the world.

God. What am I supposed to do now?

Friends, stay with me.

...the good of the crossroads

My prayer for the holy city:
"May the lives of all who love you
be enriched in the very act of loving.
Peace fill the spaces between your walls,
pervasive safety make watchtowers obsolete."
For the sake of love,
for my beloved ones, I gladly say,
"Let peace reign!"
For the sake of the abiding place 
of Mystery, the heart of love,
I will seek the good of the crossroads.
---Psalm 122:6-9 (para. laca)

Jerusalem is an important city, and has been for thousands of years. The meeting place of three major world religions, and too often their boiling point. Open the newspaper (or, more likely, your home page) and, chances are, it won't be hard to find a headline concerning unrest in the Holy Land. Ironically enough, as holy days approach, the tensions ramp up, religious fervor fueling the fires of suspicion and hatred.

Open the Scriptures, and you see the same stories, Beta version. Jerusalem, the city with peace (salem) in the name, but none in the streets. Religious strife, political machinations, tribal feuding all kept Jerusalem from experiencing shalom, the 'wholeness that leads to life' that we translate peace.

And we should pray for peace in this holy place, pour out our hearts for peace. And we should add feet to our prayers, acting in ways that promote peace in this part of the world where it is possible for us.

But the world is a kind of Jerusalem. Through global travel, internet, and media of all kinds, our world has shrunk considerably, and our global village is just that. And our Jerusalem is an incredibly diverse place, with innumerable divisions of race, clan, faith, gender, politics, and economics. And those divisions cause distrust, and inequity, and violence, and hoarding. And fear, which may be the long, ugly taproot of them all.

Our Jerusalem is this world at the crossroads. And we are all in the crosshairs. We can be destroyed by the fear we foment. Or we can be enriched by the very act of loving. This is peace.

Seek the good of the crossroads.

Enjoy a beautiful sung prayer for peace by a talented woman I am privileged to know, Amanda Powell:
https://youtu.be/VX9L3zfZ_dc