"Peace I Leave You "
by Jerry Fuller, OMI
Barbara Brown Taylor writes:
- As the eldest of three daughters, I was the
designated babysitter in my family. From the time I was twelve, I was the
one my parents left in charge when they went out at night. First my father
would sit me down and remind me how much he trusted me - not only
because I was the oldest but also because I was the most responsible. This
always made me dizzy, but I agreed with him. I would not let the house burn
down. I would not open the door to strangers. I would not let my little
sisters fall down the basement steps.
Then my mother would show me where she had left the telephone number, remind me when they would be home, and all together we would walk to the front door where everyone kissed everyone good-bye. Then the lock clicked into place, and a new era began. I was in charge. Turning around to face my new responsibilities, what I saw were my sisters' faces, looking at me with something between hope and fear. They knew I was no substitute for what they had just lost, but since I was all they had they were willing to try.
And so was I. I played games with them. I read them books. I made them pimento cheese sandwiches on white bread with the crusts cut off. But as the night wore on they got crankier and crankier. Where are mommy and daddy? Where did they go? When will they be back? I told them over and over again. I made up elaborate stories about what we would all do together in the morning. I promised them that if they would go to sleep I would make sure mommy and daddy kissed them good night when they came in. I tried to make everything sound normal, but how did I know? Our parents might have had a terrible accident. They might never come home again, and the three of us would be split apart, each of us sent to a different foster home so that we never saw each other again.
It was hard, being the babysitter, because I was a potential orphan too. I had as much to lose as my sisters, and as much to fear, but I could not give in to it because I was the one in charge. I was supposed to know better. I was supposed to exude confidence and create the same thing in them. I was supposed to know all the answers.
Plenty of you know what I mean, not only because you were baby sitters too but because you are Christians. We are all of us Christ's elder children in the world, the ones he has left in charge. We are the responsible ones, the ones he has trusted to carry on in his name, and everywhere we go we see the faces of those whom he has given into our care. Some of them are still hungry to see him and some of them are not. Some of them are still open to his return and some of them have closed their hearts. Some of them are still waiting and some of them have clearly given up. At first they jumped out of bed whenever they thought they heard footsteps on the stairs, but now they know better. Morning may come and it may not. They may wait to find out and they may not, slipping off into the night to look for some other, more reliable light.
Where is he? Where did he go? And when will he be back? It is hard, being the ones in charge, because we are potential orphans too, only he said we would not be. He said he was going away, but he also said he was coming back again, and not only at the end of time. [i]
What is Jesus' peace like? Jesus' peace consists in trust and obedience, in faith and love, but especially in keeping his commandments. "You are my friends," Jesus says, "if you do what I tell you." That's pretty straightforward. It may go against our age's idea of friendship, which consists in give-and-take: You give a little in the relationship, I give a little, and we both come to a happy place.
But it cannot be so with Jesus. For Jesus is God, and he possesses all truth: He says even, "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life" (John 14:6). You don't ask such a person to give a little in your relationship with him, for he possesses all truth. If anyone is wrong, believe me, it's you or me. Jesus is just there to point the way. He has already traveled the way. By his life of service and love, of trust in and obedience to the Father, Jesus has shown us how to live in peace. Giving ourselves completely to Jesus is our life. Elsewhere he said, "I have come that you may have life, life in abundance" (John 10:10).
- James W. Moore, in his book Standing on the Promises or Sitting on the
Premises, tells about an American citizen some years ago who was visiting
the city of Damascus. He went to the famous marketplace on the street called
Straight. The marketplace was busy, crowded, teeming with merchants and
shoppers and tourists. Into that a bustling place came a man riding slowly
through the crowd on a bicycle, precariously balancing a basket of oranges
on the handlebars. He was bumped accidentally by a porter who was so bent
over, carrying a heavy burden, that he had not seen him. The burden dropped,
the oranges were scattered, and a bitter altercation broke out between the
cyclist and the porter.
Angry words, threats, hostilities were shouted. A crowd gathered to watch what was certain to become a bloody fight. The enraged cyclist moved toward the porter with a clenched fist. But just then, a tattered little man stepped out of the crowd and positioned himself between the adversaries. Then the little man did an amazing thing. He reached out, tenderly took the cyclist's clenched fist in his hands, and gently kissed it! He kissed the fist! A murmur of approval swept over the crowd. They laughed, then they applauded. The antagonists relaxed and hugged each other. And all the people began happily picking up the oranges.
When the little man began to drift away, the American followed him and spoke to him: "What a brave and beautiful thing you did!" he said. "That was wonderful, but why did you do it? Why did you take the risk?"
The little man smiled and answered, "Because I am a Christian! The Spirit of Christ was in me, and he gave me the courage to be a peacemaker. He gave me the courage to do the right thing." [ii] - A pastor was sent to a town called Haifa in the Mideast some years
ago. His church was falling down and the small congregation was split
by divisions in such a way that the people actually arranged according
to which party they sided with when they sat in church on Sundays.
There were four distinct groups.
On Palm Sunday of his first year in the parish, this pastor looked at the stony faces before him. After the lackluster hymns were sung, he did something no one, not even he himself, had anticipated. He walked to the back of the church and padlocked the door. Returning to the front of the church, he told his parishioners: "Sitting in this building does not make you a Christian. You are a people divided. You argue and hate each other. ... If you can't love your brother whom you see, how can you say you love God who is invisible?
"You have allowed the Body of Christ to be disgraced. I have tried for months to unite you. I have failed. I am only a man. But there is someone else who can bring you together in true unity. His name is Jesus. He has the power to forgive you. So now I will be quiet and allow him to give you that power. If you will not forgive, then we stay locked in here. If you want, you can kill each other, and I'll provide your funeral for free." Ten minutes passed, but they seemed like hours. At last one of the members of a faction stood up, faced the congregation, bowed his head, and said, "I am sorry. I am the worst of all. I have hated my own brothers. I have hated them so much that I wanted to kill them. More than any of you, I need forgiveness."
He turned to the pastor. "Father, can you forgive?" "Come here," the pastor replied. They embraced each other with the kiss of peace. "Now go and greet your brothers." Three other members of the other factions rushed together, meeting halfway down the aisle, and in tears forgave each other. In an instant," the pastor recalls, "the church was a chaos of embracing and repentance."
The pastor had to shout to make his next words heard. "Dear friends, we are not going to wait until next week to celebrate the Resurrection. Let us begin now. We were dead to each other. Now we are alive again."
He began to sing "Christ is risen from the dead. By his death he has trampled death and given life to those in the tombs." The congregation joined in the hymn. Unchaining the door, the pastor led them into the streets.
"For the rest of the day and into the evening," he wrote later, "I joined groups of believers as they went from house to house. At every door, someone had to ask forgiveness for a certain wrong. Never was forgiveness withheld."
Today his congregation is thriving. They have built a regional high school, opened community center, and established a large library. All because the congregation began to love one another. "By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."
References:
[i] Barbara Brown Taylor, "Good News for Orphans," Gospel Medicine, Cowley
Publications, 28 Temple Place. Boston MA 02111, pp. 79-83.
[ii] (Nashville: Dimensions for Living, 1994), p. 12.
[iii] from Making Friends of Enemies: Reflections on the Teachings of Jesus,
by Jim Forest, Crossroad Publishing Co., New York.
(Comments to Jerry at padre@tri-lakes.net. Jerry's book, Stories For All Seasons, is available at a discount through the Homiletic Resource Center.)