So Many Options for Peacemaking; So Little Peace Being Made

If peacemakers are blessed, as Jesus says, then we should try to make peace. Certainly, it’s easier said than done. But you’d think, with so many options available, that something would work.

Option One

“Peace through superior firepower.” This is the basis of the peace imposed on others by various empires. For example, the Pax Romana (The Roman Peace), the Pax Brittanica (The British Peace), the Pax Americana (I think you’re catching on by now), and the Pax Seres (coming soon). It also forms the basis for the wide appeal of the Colt Single-Action Army Revolver ever since 1873, along with the marketing of other weapons and arms systems.

In Romans 13:3-4, the Apostle Paul notes that civil authority “does not bear the sword for nothing; for it is a minister of God, an avenger who brings wrath on the one who practices evil.” When law enforcement arrives in most confrontations, the superior firepower often results in a more peaceful resolution than would otherwise occur. But sometimes, the result resembles option two instead.

Option Two

“Peace through identifying common enemies.” Law enforcement officers responding to domestic violence calls know this option well. While a battered spouse may call in hopes of limiting or preventing further physical assault, when it proves necessary to arrest and remove the batterer (or, often, simply the least battered of the two), officers know how quickly they can face not only the resistance of the one being arrested, but of the reporting party as well.

This option has been practiced throughout church history, of course. In its better moments, widely differing denominations and traditions have united for the good of their communities, combating oppression, exploitation, and other damaging influences. With the multiplication of traditions and denominations through schisms, splits, and other church-fights, leaders have often found it advantageous to unite their constituents by focusing on some far more egregious belief or practice seen elsewhere. “Yes, I know these are important issues to resolve…someday. But for now, we need to unite in order to demonstrate the wrongs of our brothers and sisters in (insert name of contrasting theology, tradition, or denomination here).” This practice can also result in option three.

Option Three

“Peace through mutually-assured destruction.” At this writing, two local congregations in my community have suspended operations. One was accused of schism because they objected to the significant shift in theology of the parent denomination. That congregation, largely intact, now meets elsewhere than the building the built and maintained for decades, which now stands empty. The other congregation has endured over a decade of intermittent scattering and regathering, with a variety of issues quoted as causes. Just as options one and two are rarely successful in bringing about peace, so also the threat of mutually-assured destruction does not dissuade conflicting parties from proceeding with their destructive actions. Is there anyone more certain of how right they are than the zealot with the bomb strapped to his own chest?

And yet, some of us see the results of such passionate pursuits, and we determine to avoid not only those holding other positions in such fervor, but any fervor for our own positions as well. And this leads us to the fourth of our options.

Option Four

“Peace through apathetic resignation.” Eeyore is the most peaceful of all the inhabitants in the Hundred-Acre Wood. Granted, he may provoke less-than-optimal responses in others. Tigger’s hyperactivity may be seen as a necessary counter-balance to the contagious lethargy that might otherwise afflict him. Kanga’s maternal instincts are probably enhanced in an attempt to prevent Roo from growing up to experience similar depressive episodes. Even Pooh’s self-medication through his honey addiction may be a vain attempt to heighten life’s enjoyments, even as he shortens its duration through diabetes and, probably, heart disease as well. But for all the collateral damage he might inflame in others, Eeyore will always be the least conflicted of all. He simply does not care enough to hold any other expectation than the worst of all possibilities.

That place of depressed indifference is, I can attest, a peaceful place to be.

Conclusion

There is a means of peacemaking, however, that is blessed, and effective, and relates directly to being the “called children of God” (as Jesus states in the next to last beatitude—Matthew 5:9). If we do remember that all human persons are created to bear the image and likeness of our creator, God, then there are mutual interests we can serve together. The lowest common denominators can be identified in keeping with “The Rule of Threes” in medical triage as air, warmth, water, and food. Three minutes without air, three hours without warmth, three days without water, or three weeks without food, and we cannot help but experience significant physical damage.

We desire so much more, of course. But when our desires outstrip our needs, do we recognize the imbalance that results? If I can acquire more than what I need, then I consign others to have less than what I would want, perhaps less than they would need. And why do I want more? Because I am not at peace with myself, the bearer of God’s image and likeness. Why? Because I do not count my relationship with Him as sufficient. If I am not at peace with God, then I will inflict the iniquity of inequity upon anyone who might prevent me from getting what I want. That, in turn, invites conflict from those who are prevented from having what they need…simply because I want more than that.

Make peace with God, so that you may be at peace with yourself, which enables you to live at peace with others. Or, you can get a bigger gun, and gather others against a mutual enemy, in order to ensure that there will be no survivors on either side, and then—hopefully—recognize the futility of your pursuits and sink into the existential despair of motiveless lethargy.

That, of course, is a peaceful place to be, too. But not nearly so blessed as making peace and being called children of God.

The Power of Being Meek: How can you threaten to ruin those already in ruins?

Which do you see? Man? Or mouse?

For the first half-hour of the conversation, I felt reasonably certain that I was being lied to. The caller represented himself as having insights and purposes that were at odds with a course of ministry I had pursued. He said that he was aware and actively pursuing a course of action with which my efforts were interfering. He had specific demands of me. But when I asked what goals or outcomes he felt his work was intended to accomplish, he admitted he had no vision for any positive results in the lives of those whom we were discussing. And that’s when the conversation took a turn for the…less-than-pleasant.

I was only reasonably certain that his portrayal was inaccurate, until he offered to lie about me. Of course, it wasn’t an overt threat. “You know, someone could say….” And yes, they could. If they said it to anyone who knows me at all, it’s hard to imagine they could retain any realistic hopes of being taken seriously about that or any other subject in the future. And yet, in discussing the conversation with my wife (who was hearing my half, and most of the other half of the discussion), we realized: similar accusations had ruined others.

And still the threat didn’t concern me. I’ve given significant thought to my reasons why. Here’s what I concluded.

First, I believe that my confidence has nothing to do with being “above reproach.” I am very aware of my fallibility. I could recount many clever and creative ways in which the enemy of our souls seeks and succeeds in tripping me with temptations of both the unexpected and obvious types. I cannot claim that any accusation could be said to be impossible. I could make any number of serious errors, some of which could be devastating to my ministry, my family, and my own walk with Christ. And yet, were that to happen, or if false accusations were made and believed—this is my second conclusion—I believe strongly that they could never ruin me.

"Here I come to save the day?"

On what do I base such an audacious claim? Simply this: I am already ruined. The life I once lived so freely in the flesh is the subject of relentless demolition. It stubbornly resists being razed, but my intent is to have the site as cleared and leveled as possible by the time Christ is done with me. The point of my claim to be “your servant for Jesus’ sake” (II Corinthians 4:5) is to acknowledge that God’s resources and others’ needs require only that I locate myself in the gap between the two. Whatever I may have to offer is only what I have myself received from God. The rest, although not yet perfectly so, I intend to leave in ruins.

What are my hopes in return for these efforts to provide a vacant lot for Jesus’ construction project? Ironically, I find Jesus promising me something that is already relatively in ruins and only becomes more so each day.

Jesus says, “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” A friend and colleague recently asked, can you be “meek” without being “weak?”[1] Of course you can. In fact, the very nature of being meek involves a conscious decision to refrain from using one’s natural strength, whether physical, emotional, mental, socio-economic, or even spiritual.

Beware of men in mice's clothing.

Who brings about this restraint? Is it externally enforced? Or is it a self-initiated exercise of personal power to limit or eliminate the use of one’s personal power? Ancient Greek texts use the word “meek” in reference to powerful animals brought under control by a bridle or yoke, but even there the emphasis is on soothing or calming “those that are irritated or excited.”[2] Biblically, the term is used in both testaments to reference those who fulfill a subsidiary role in a household or other relationship—those who know where they fit into the plan and purpose of the whole. Whether as a disciple under a rabbi, or in more modern contexts as a team member under a coach, the sense is of one who understands their place among others, without “being overly impressed by a sense of one’s self-importance.”[3]

I believe that I am privileged to serve a God who is seeking to accomplish His purposes. That He chooses to do so through fallible human beings still amazes me. In fact, I find it a ludicrously inadequate approach to doing business. But that’s all the more reason to tear down the façade, the framework, and the very foundation of anything, or anyone—even myself—that threatens to stand in the way of what God is seeking to do.

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[1] This is the subject of a recent post by Paul Louis Metzger. You can find it here.

[2] Kittel, prauV

[3] BDAG, prauV

Countdown to Christmas Conversations: An Invitation to Consider the Character of the Christ – Part Five – The Just and Righteous Government

Upholding it all.

This is the sixth in a series of posts discussing my belief in Jesus as the Messiah, in hopes of fostering understanding of my spirituality, and encouraging others to share their own perspectives on spirituality (defined broadly as the means by which we derive meaning from life and assign value to its elements). For more about why I find the discussion of our spirituality to be so important, especially as we countdown to Christmas, please see the initial post in the series. (Found here: http://deathpastor.blogspot.com/2014/12/countdown-to-christmas-conversations.html)

Atlas trumped by "whole world in His hands."

As I discussed in the last post, Christians are called to be at peace, and to be peace-makers. And yet, we are among the most divisive and territorial groups, even against those with whom we should find the greatest agreement. If we serve the Prince of Peace, then why is there such little peace, even for Christians? Because, simply, too few Christians live as loyal subjects of the King of kings and Lord of lords. We do not practice the presence of the Prince of Peace.

For one thing, we do not apply the protocol Jesus prescribed for conflict resolution and relational reconciliation. The four stages Jesus prescribes in Matthew 18:15-18 require us to prioritize two goals. The first and foremost goal is relational reconciliation. He prays for unity in the body of Christ in John 17:20-21 as the means by which others will recognize His coming. But relational reconciliation is contingent on the second goal: conflict resolution. By “resolving conflict” I do not mean that we must come to agreement on every issue. But it is essential that we commit to an accurate focus and a detailed resolution (in the sense of the resolution of photographs or computer monitors). The real question is: do we clearly see the actual points of conflict?

But there is a second factor preventing us from ever approaching a clear understanding of the conflict(s), much less an relational reconciliation. Why do we ignore or even willfully avoid Jesus’ protocol in Matthew 18? In short, we are afraid. We fear the cost and consequences of each of the four stages of the Matthew 18 protocol. It is a simple matter to confront another’s beliefs or behaviors, so long as there is no opportunity for rebuttal, much less correction of my misperception or misunderstanding. I would prefer to have others simply alter their course to accommodate the beliefs, behaviors, ministries, and life to which I have already become accustomed. But the second stage Jesus prescribes, where He calls us to involve witnesses, involves the potential for those witnesses to exonerate the one I accuse, and to point out my inequity (and iniquity) instead.

Not knocking to get in, but to ask for an accounting.

Why won’t we pay the relatively minor cost of admitting we might be wrong? Because we do not fully grasp the consequences of failing to engage one another’s perspectives and reconciling ourselves together. We do not work for peace, and so we do not experience peace, because we refuse to trust the Lord to bring correction. We believe we must be right, or fear that instead of correction we will experience rejection. Why does this have such power to make us so fearful? Because we imagine that our safety, security, substance, supply, and Savior all depend upon us being right. In fact, all of the above depend merely on being in Him. He is the Prince of Peace. And we can trust Him to bring peace to and through us, so long as we choose to live as subjects of His just and righteous government, the Kingdom of God. That is the government which is upon His shoulders.

In a world that appears to be disintegrating, the body of Christ can no longer afford its continued fragmentation, splintering over issues that are unclearly defined—conflicts that need to be brought into greater resolution and focus—which prevent us from relational reconciliation. If The Church refuses to practice the presence of her Prince of Peace, we resign ourselves to witnessing the continuing increase of violence in the wake of injustice, oppression, and exploitation. This is not the gift we seek this Christmas.

Not quite accurate, but you get the idea of Who's in charge.

Therefore, as subjects of the Prince of Peace, may God find us not only willing, but active in pursuing the kinds of dialogue that result in conflict resolution and relational reconciliation, within both The Church and the communities we are called to serve.

Merry Christmas!

p.s. It’s not a Christmas carol, per se. But I’m singing it this morning as I proof-read this post:

“Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me. Let there be peace on earth, the peace that was meant to be. With God as our Father, siblings all are we. [Inclusive language isn’t always as poetic as the original, but there it is.] Let me walk with my siblings in perfect harmony. Let peace begin with me; let this be the moment now. With every step I take, let this be my solemn vow: To take each moment, and live each moment, in peace eternally. Let there be peace on earth. And let it begin with me.” 

Countdown to Christmas Conversations: An Invitation to Consider the Character of the Christ – Part Four – Prince of Peace

Just a fantasy? Or does Jesus provide a way to peace?

This is the fifth in a series of posts discussing my belief in Jesus as the Messiah, in hopes of fostering understanding of my spirituality, and encouraging others to share their own perspectives on spirituality (defined broadly as the means by which we derive meaning from life and assign value to its elements). For more about why I find the discussion of our spirituality to be so important, especially as we countdown to Christmas, please see the initial post in the series. (Found here: http://deathpastor.blogspot.com/2014/12/countdown-to-christmas-conversations.html)

Sometimes, when dealing with a phrase or title where one of the words especially catches our attention, we miss some great insights. I felt that way about looking at Jesus Christ as Wonderful Counselor (in the post here: http://deathpastor.blogspot.com/2014/12/countdown-to-christmas-conversations_20.html), Mighty God (here: http://deathpastor.blogspot.com/2014/12/countdown-to-christmas-conversations_21.html), and Everlasting Father (here: http://deathpastor.blogspot.com/2014/12/countdown-to-christmas-conversations_22.html). I find great inspiration in what I have learned about each word in each of those titles.

"Keeping the peace" in Ferguson, Mo.

Looking again at Isaiah 9:6 regarding Jesus Christ as Prince of Peace, though, I find another obstacle. Here is a phrase has caught my attention so much in the past that it becomes almost impossible to slow down and really consider what it means. Our familiarity with a phrase like “Prince of Peace” may prevent us from appreciating just how important a concept, and how radical a claim it is.

Even a brief thought about it raises troubling questions. Can we seriously consider Jesus Christ as a Prince of Peace in a world where terrorist organizations pride themselves on inventive cruelties and escalating casualties as they pursue their murderous doctrines? What does a Prince of Peace matter when our communities are self-destructing, with those called “to serve and protect” fearfully reacting in preventative self-protection, while citizens turn on one another in their blind rage? Am I willing to explain to young children how I pray to this Prince of Peace for their hospitalized mother and arrested father, even as they collect a few belongings to take with them into foster care?

Yes, we can. It does matter. And I am willing. But why?

Night-lights help us sleep more peacefully.

I have to imagine my reactions are probably like yours, unless you have no capacity for evil whatsoever. But I cannot help but wonder what elaborate torture might adequately avenge the lives of innocent men, women, and children, murdered for failing to believe in the blood-thirsty god their assailants feel compelled to appease. Likewise, I long to discern an effective deterrent to the deepening distrust and its  tragic consequences increasing for both law enforcement and the law-abiding as the lines between “subjects” and “suspects,” or “persons” and “perpetrators” becomes more blurred. And, I confess, there are several wife-beaters’ throats around which I would gladly have closed my hands had I not felt an obligation to their families and to my God (though not to them in those moments, even though they are still persons created to bear the image and likeness of their Creator).

We can choose to address conflict by the application of greater conflict. But we can do so only if we reject any possibility of redemptive purposes, of valuing any human’s personhood, and of seeing anything resembling cooperative communities. Where there is any hope, or even a not-entirely-despairing desire to see justice and mercy, then we must stop trying to address conflict by applying greater conflict.

Must we wait for peace until we all "Rest In Peace?" There's another way.

As a follower of Jesus Christ, the Prince of Peace, I am called to a better solution than escalating conflict, division, and warfare. And Jesus lays out that solution for us. Therefore, as a Christian, I should be among those who are most “at peace,” not to mention being a “peace-maker.” And yet, as a theologically-conservative Evangelical I am numbered among those who have made a thriving industry of divisive denominationalism, doctrinal debate, and (without exaggeration) terrorizing territorialism. (e.g., “You could probably still go to heaven and attend a church like that. But wouldn’t you rather be sure by attending with true believers?”) The result? We Christians are not at peace, even among ourselves. We can hardly, then, be trusted to be peace-makers. What we offer is not a regularly-practiced protocol of conflict resolution and relational-reconciliation, although that is exactly what Jesus prescribed for us in Matthew 18:15-18.

What can we offer, then? For that, you’ll need to read one more post. Because Jesus Christ is the Prince of Peace, at least for loyal subjects of “His kingdom” in which there is “justice and righteousness.” But such blessings are possible only when “the government shall be upon His shoulders.” Thankfully, that’s the government that seeks to reign and rule over each of us, today.