Our family was asked to light the candle of Peace for Advent this Sunday. We were to share a few words on Peace. All week long I struggled to find any words on Peace. Finally, one evening, as I was driving the car, the words came to me. I struggled to capture them on paper at each stoplight, lingering just long enough for people behind me to become impatient. After I got home, I read what I’d written to Forrest. After a few revisions to reflect new insights from our conversation, the following is what I read this morning in church:
Peace isn’t some idealistic dream that we sit idly by hoping and praying for. Peace comes at Advent, not just as images of sleeping infants in mangers and lions and lambs together, but Peace comes in the blood, the sweat, the stench and the filth of a damp, cold cave to an unwed mother, far from the comforts of home. Peace comes to show us that peace can and does happen, if only we labor for it. It is counter-cultural. It’s not about what and who we fight against, but rather what we work for; giving voice to the silenced, bringing justice to the poor. It requires humility and sacrifice and above all, action. Peace is born one labor pain at a time. It is possible, but it’s not easy and cannot happen if we just sit by. May we become activists for Peace… May we live lives that tie into the “peace that passes all understanding”.