Several years ago a church I served in VA was getting ready for their annual Youth-led worship service. This was a church that shared the tradition of “passing the peace” when we shared communion, and the youth of that church always enjoyed adding it to their services as well. They really loved that physical demonstration of reconciliation and community. We would have done it every Sunday if it was up to them, and who could blame them?
Actually, there was one guy. I’ll never forget the time a church member, in anticipation of Youth Sunday, said, “Are they going to make us touch each other?” I was kind of blown away. How dare he? Fortunately, I somehow had the presence of mind to ask him what he meant by that. He said, “I don’t mind shaking hands. I’m a friendly person [which was true]. I just don’t like it when I’m forced to do it.”
Wow. There’s some interesting theology in that. No one likes to be forced or coerced into good acts and expressions of care, and yet there are times when we must agree that there are things that we must do, whether we like it or not, as God’s people.
The same could be said of any social contract. It’s that last part, “as God’s people”, that makes it a theological statement – a statement about who we are in light of God’s love for us. Who are we, if not a group of people who have been forgiven, loved, called, and claimed by God? Who are we, if not a group of people who extend the same love, mercy, and forgiveness that we have received?
I want you to know that you are one of those people. You are someone who is loved by God, and you are a part of what God is doing through the people that God loves and for the people that God loves. The tricky part is that “the people that God loves” probably includes some people that you do not love, or at least some people that you find it hard to love.
Sometimes those are the people we only interact with online. Sometimes those are the people that we long to sit next to in the pews, even though we know that we have some differences of opinion about how we live out the good news of Jesus Christ. Sometimes it may even be me that you find hard to love, and that’s ok.
I think the inherent potential for conflict is why the liturgy of the church is so important to some traditions. I know some people find repetitive prayers and creeds off-putting and forced, and to some extent they are. I’ve even had some people tell me that they have to do some “mental gymnastics” to get around the parts they don’t agree with, and I confess that I have fallen into the temptation of making the congregation repeat something that was supposed to be exciting after they read it with all the enthusiasm that one approaches side effects on a pill bottle!
Still, there is something important in our coming together to experience the loss of control, the comfort of ritual, and the opportunity of opening ourselves up to be a part of something beyond the chaos of the world we live in. I call that the active presence of God. In fact, one of the things I say when people visit is, “I hope you felt God’s presence today.” It sounds a little weird. It’s not the kind of thing that we have a standard reply for.
What do you say? You too? Thanks? I sure did! Um...sorry, but no, I didn’t? I sometimes get the feeling that it’s like that moment when a flight attendant says, “Enjoy your flight,” and someone responds with “You too.” It just feels weird, but I stand by the question. It is always my hope that in the liturgy, the preaching, and in our coming together that we affirm what we already know – that there is a God, and that God is active and present in our joys and in our sorrows, always moving us toward the good.
It’s easy to see that, and easier to say that, when things are going well, but Paul wrote about it from prison. He wrote to a people who had been generous to him and he counted it as God’s generosity. He reminded them that the first act in our recognition of God’s grace is thanksgiving, the next is the expectation that God is near, and the result is that our minds and hearts are safeguarded by the peace of God that passes understanding.
I say that like it’s a three-step process, but it’s really a little messier than that. Each part affects the other, and they can lead to one another, but it doesn’t always work that way. Often when I have the privilege of talking to church members and random strangers who see my collar, they start with a problem – a legal battle, a betrayal, an illness, a loss – and then they come around to, “It could be worse, and I have so much to be thankful for. I have friends who are able to be with me. I know God is with me. I just hope things will change.”
The good news is that things do change, they just don’t always change the way we like. That’s why Paul tells those who follow Christ to focus on good things. I don’t think that Paul was saying that in the way that I hear some say it today. I don’t think he was saying it in the sort of “create your own reality through positive thinking” theology that seems popular these days. Certainly, there is something to be said about positive thinking, don’t get me wrong.
There’s a lot of good research out there that suggests that we can rewire our brains and find greater contentment if we focus on positive changes, and that may be a part of what Paul had in mind. More than that, though, I think it was more like the good theology of a mom that I know who helped her children through some tough times by showing them flowers.
“The flower is the best part, right?” she would say, “but it needs dirt to grow. There’s always going to be dirt, but if all you do is worry about the dirt then you’ll never enjoy the flowers!” As the years went by and troubles came and went, the mom would often be heard to say, “Are you focused on the dirt or on the flowers?”
In a simple way, that is what Paul had to say to the church in Philippi, and to you and I today. In a simple way, that is what we do when we pass the peace of Christ on the Sundays that we celebrate communion, or anytime that we demonstrate forgiveness and love and mercy.
We do have a lot of work to do inside the church and out, and I’m not just talking about the cracks in the ceiling or the bushes that need trimming. Those are easy. I’m talking about divisions over theology that limit the love of God. I’m talking about tribalism and fear and racially divided congregations. I’m talking about the kind of work that requires soul searching, repentance, and reform.
That may all sound very intimidating to you – it certainly is to me – but at least we know where to start. The starting place must always be the common experience of grace and the desire to share it – even in places of conflict and pain, and perhaps especially out of those spaces.
How do we do it? We give thanks for what God has done in the past. We recognize that God is as close as the breath in our lungs, and we create more space in our hearts and minds and relationships to be moved by God’s grace. In that space, we are held by God.
The original Greek in this text says that our hearts and minds – the seat of our soul and the space for rational thought – are not just protected but garrisoned like a military outpost by the peace of God. There is no way to understand that or how and why we could be at peace when everything else is chaos. There is no way to create it.
We just have to settle into it, like a tightrope walker who never looks down. God’s peace is with us, calling us forward and steeling our nerves. The rope is everything else that matters. It is anything good and meaningful and healthy and lifegiving.
The rope is the peace that we pass. It is the hymn of praise that pops into our minds at random. It is the breath of God we breath when we stop and take a deep breath. It is the still small voice, the seemingly random call from a friend, and the presence of mind that allows us to stop and reset when all seems lost.
I wish with all my heart that I could say that faith in God leads to a path without brokenness, and it certainly does lead us into wholeness, but faith is not built on wishes. Faith is built on hope, and our hope is not limited to what we want to come true. It is based on what we know to be true, and what we know to be true is that even though the rocks may crumble and the seas may roar, God’s love will never change.
God’s love is for you. God’s love will offer you peace when you least expect it, sometimes even when you reject it, and always when you need it most. At least, that’s the way it seems to work for me, and I pray that it may be so with you. I pray that the peace of God, that is without reason but with great purpose, will be with you, now and always. Amen.
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