Peace Elsewhere

There's a place

Where the peace

Of mind

I've been searching for lies.

There, the blood

Hit the ground

Just as He cried

Father, forgive them.

...

Been thinking a lot about the idea of peace over the last several months. What true peace is. Where true peace is found. Considering the benediction, "may the God of peace be with you all" [Romans 15:33] and the meaning of "peace on earth" (can you tell I started drafting this in Dec.?). Striving to recognize the counterfeits that so often stare me defiantly in the face and convince my weak mind that they're the real deal. Writing a song (a few stanzas above) encircling the topic [not necessarily one that will ever be shared unless I can find a "ghost singer," :P]. [And sadly I have no piano at the moment, so my "itching" fingers will have to wait.]

Many, many months have elapsed since I've worked out my thoughts through writing--publicly or privately--and quite frankly, I've missed the catharsis that often comes from the exercise. Started reading J. D. Peabody's Perfectly Suited yesterday and related on such a deep level to his observation regarding the process of writing:

"The slow work of searching for words that are true shifts my gaze back to the Word who is Truth."

There's nothing earth-shattering about anything that ends up in this space. And I don't expect anyone to read. But if you (even if "you" collectively turns out to be only one person who's not me) resonate with anything I've shared here over the last several years, I don't consider any of it a waste.

Few things have remained constant over the last six months. Some changes have been painful: facing a future without my grandma, or any grandparents for that matter. Some frustrating and depressing: facing physical and mental health issues that seem unsolvable. Some bittersweet: leaving home. Despite blessings along the way, I sometimes feel that uproar is perpetual and infinite. Where do I find peace in all the push and the pull and the sin and the sadness and the noise of living in this world?

Perhaps like you, I already know the answer. But I often treat the place of ultimate peace--that dark hill where the Savior died--like clutter in the hallway. You know the sort. The pile everyone maneuvers around to get to the other side even though it's quite conveniently in your path, just sitting there waiting to be acknowledged. Not noticed, of course. You noticed it. The choice was simply made not to look at it. To pretend it's not there at all.

When I was a teen just beginning to struggle through the troubles of faith, I remember thinking, "If I could just get past this cross thing, then I'd be set." Or something along those lines. But in the decade or so since I left that era behind, I've realized that such a mindset couldn't be more wrong. Christianity is not about finally "getting it." **It's not a light switch that's always on once it's flipped (speaking in terms of sanctification, not salvation). I'd say it's more of a dimmer. There's an awful lot of fluctuation and sometimes we can barely see through the darkness of our own ugly failures. But I suppose that's where the peace comes in. The Spirit will never allow that knob to reach zero. And someday it's going to be blinding in the best way possible.

So in my own season of upheaval and continual change, I can only limp to Golgotha. The most sweet and "awful" place known to man. Only recently, (how recently I shan't embarrass myself to say) did I realize that "awful" in the title of the hymn "How Sweet and Awful Is the Place" refers to awe rather than horror. But honestly, I still feel that "awful" fits quite well when referring to the place that the Author of life gave His. Sometimes I wonder how on earth I can ignore this cross where these polar opposites met in the very same earth-shattering event.

My words are insufficient, but I suppose I do sometimes write about earth-shattering things after all.

**My apologies, hehe. Trying to cut down on the number of metaphors I use in a single post, but I could only get this one down to two. ;)