Peacemakers

Peace is a big deal. When I don’t have peace about something, I’m in a state of unrest. My heart–and sometimes my stomach–are in a knot. I can’t sleep. I’m distracted. I’m worried.

Years back, I had been reading through the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5 and the verse, “Blessed are the peacemakers,” struck me like a ton of bricks. Jesus wasn’t speaking to people that had it all together, he was teaching regular people – wives, husbands, children, elderly, sick – even the lepers caught wind of the radical teachings that were intended for all to hear and believe.

I wrote this poem from the standpoint of the leper and the outcast who had no peace about their current situation and were forgotten and shunned – you know, the blind man by the city gates, the prostitute, the husband with leprocy who could no longer provide for his family. Yes, these people – the forgotten people.

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Haven’t we all been forgotten at one point or another in our lives? Haven’t each of us been without the peace the Bible speaks of? Even as one who professes faith in Christ, I still struggle to feel peaceful in the middle of painful situations.

Ephesians 2: 13-14 says, “For He Himself [Christ] is our peace, who has made both one, and has broken down the middle wall of separation [between us and God].”

Because we have a savior who died on the cross for us, because he has given his life so that we can be unified in relationship personally through the one true God, we can rest in the peace of the person of Jesus Christ – even when we don’t actually feel tangible peace. We can be certain that he knows our cry, he feels our pain, he knows our loss. He alone is our peace.

Peacemakers

You called us blessed–
the ones without;
those with nothing–
no hope, no desire.

You told us that we mattered–
that hope existed,
that life was different
than what we thought it could be.

You felt us mourning—
our lost, our stolen.
Instead, blessing our efforts
and wishes for something more.

You wanted us to find peace
a different way, a new kind.
We did not understand;
all things were new.

Your words, spoken as if
We’d never heard them before.
Blessed, you called us?
We were called nothing,
sinners, wanderers, vagrants.

Lost with meaningless life.
Hopeless and distraught.
You changed all that,
and asked us to be peacemakers.

We didn’t know how,
but would give it a try.
Give peace, get peace—
live peace, love peace.

What we didn’t realize then—
but now know,
is that You alone are our peace.
You. Not us.

You are blessed.
You are our salvation—
you are peace personified.