Sermon: “What Is Peace?”
December 6th, 2020 Rev. Betsy Perkins
Scripture passage: Isaiah 26:1-13 First Baptist Church, Delavan WI
Today’s reading is from Isaiah. A couple weeks ago we heard about Isaiah’s call to be a prophet. He experienced God’s great holiness and had a hot coal placed on his lips to burn away his sinfulness, to prepare him to receive God’s words into his mouth in order to share them with others. We return again to Isaiah today, and in the coming Sunday, to hear the words God shared with him in this season of advent, this season of preparing, preparing to receive God’s Word, God’s Christ, and preparing to share Christ.
On this Sunday when we light the candle of peace, we look Isaiah for his message about peace. You may recall some of the well-known, well-loved passages and images of peace that are found in Isaiah’s writings. There is the image in chapter 2 of the day when nations will no longer train for war, when people will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks (2:4). Then in chapter 9, Isaiah speaks of the coming Messiah, the child to be born, the son given, who will be called the Prince of Peace, and of his government and peace there will be no end (9:6-7). And then the image from chapter 11 found on some Christmas cards: the wolf will live with the calf, the lion will lie down with the lamb, and a young child will lead them (11:6).
For the reading today, we have a passage from Isaiah 26 that also speaks of peace:
26 In that day, everyone in the land of Judah will sing this song:
Our city is strong! We are surrounded by the walls of God’s salvation.2 Open the gates to all who are righteous; allow the faithful to enter.3 You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you!4 Trust in the Lord always, for the Lord God is the eternal Rock.5 He humbles the proud and brings down the arrogant city. He brings it down to the dust.6 The poor and oppressed trample it underfoot, and the needy walk all over it.
7 But for those who are righteous, the way is not steep and rough.You are a God who does what is right, and you smooth out the path ahead of them.8 Lord, we show our trust in you by obeying your laws; our heart’s desire is to glorify your name.9 In the night I search for you; in the morning I earnestly seek you.For only when you come to judge the earth will people learn what is right.10 Your kindness to the wicked does not make them do good.Although others do right, the wicked keep doing wrong and take no notice of the Lord’s majesty.11 O Lord, they pay no attention to your upraised fist. Show them your eagerness to defend your people.Then they will be ashamed. Let your fire consume your enemies.
12 Lord, you will grant us peace; all we have accomplished is really from you.13 O Lord our God, others have ruled us, but you alone are the one we worship.
In this passage that mixes prayer to God with prophetic words about who God is, Isaiah says to God (and to all who listen), “You will keep in perfect peace those who trust in You, whose minds are steadfast,” their thoughts focused unwaveringly on God. Kept in perfect peace – the Hebrew says they will be kept in shalom shalom. Shalom means peace, and when repeated like that, shalom shalom, peace peace, it communicates an intensity, a complete and total peace – shalom shalom.
What is shalom? What is this peace peace that God gives? The Judeo-Christian understanding of peace found in the Bible is so much more than simply the absence of war or the ability to tolerate one another. The peace of shalom includes a sense of safety, of personal wellbeing and community wellbeing. Rather than being fractured and torn apart, there is a wholeness, a unity of right relationships. Perfect peace, shalom shalom, is the most basic characteristic of the Kingdom of God – living in harmony with God, with ourselves, with others, with creation.
Shalom begins with a right relationship with God our Creator, rather than being disconnected from God or fighting against God. Isaiah prophesied that the Savior sent from God would be pierced for our transgressions, our sins, our waywardness. The consequences for our sin would be borne by a Messiah who would bring us peace, shalom (53:5). After Jesus’s death, Paul recognized the truth of Isaiah’s words, saying, “God was pleased through Christ to reconcile to Himself (to bring into right, harmonious relationship) all things, making peace through Jesus Christ’s blood shed on the cross (Col.1:20). In the New Testament the Good News about Jesus is described as the “gospel of peace” (Eph.6:15), the “good news of peace” (Acts 10:36).
Having peace with God, allows us to have peace within ourselves. Isaiah writes, “The fruit of that righteousness (that rightness in our relationship with God) will be peace; its effect will be quietness and confidence forever.”(32:17) When we receive the gift of peace from God it allows us to be content rather than anxious, confident rather than fearful, calm rather than agitated. We know we are loved and valued. We know we are safe and cared.
And if we are at peace with God and at peace with ourselves, we can no longer be content to keep it to ourselves but long to share it, extending that peace to the world around us. The cry “No justice, no peace” is part of Isaiah’s message as he speaks of people who act with greed and violence, who speak maliciously, take advantage of the weak and poor and vulnerable, who destroy the land. Isaiah says, “They don’t know the way of peace for there is no justice in their path.”(59:8) How can we be fully at peace when we know someone is suffering, is hungry, is hurting? So we work for justice as a way of working for peace. Jesus issued the call for his followers to be peacemakers, saying, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the children of God.”(Mt.5:9)
I’d like to read you a story now, so sit back and get comfortable. It’s from a book by Pamela Hawkins, titled Prepare the Way: Cultivating a Heart for God in Advent, from the chapter on Peace.
She slunk toward our porch like a night spy sent to get the lay of the land. Cautious and hyperalert, her thin body crouched close to the ground. She moved a few feet closer, stopping at times to look left and right before finally approaching the saucer of food put out by my husband, Ray.
For a few weeks, Ray and I had known that some animal was coming out of the late fall chill to sleep between our recycling bins. One day when I awoke particularly early, I quietly placed a chair near the porch window and took morning watch there, coffee in hand, hoping to identify our night visitor. Luckily, as dawn’s light cleared enough darkness to see, I saw a mass of fur stretch out of its hiding place, revealing a beautiful, gray, long-haired cat. Pausing only to yawn and stretch once more, she headed toward the woods behind our neighbor’s house.
Now knowing our guest’s identity, Ray began to leave bowls of water and food on the porch before we went to bed. Next, he folded an old towel to soften and warm the cat’s nesting space. The fur and empty food bowl left behind confirmed that our visitor remained with us. And as the nights grew colder, Ray’s gifts expanded in the form of a heavy cardboard box lined with old towels and wedged into the porch corner unreachable by wind, rain, or frost.
At some point along the way, Ray began to wait on the darkened porch to see if the cat would let him approach. At first, her warrior attitude prevailed; and as soon as she saw him, she hissed, turned and fled. But after a few nights of this flight and as Ray gently began to call her, she came back to the porch as long as Ray kept his distance. Any “enemy” moves on Ray’s part resulted in a fang-bearing hiss and swipe of a paw, claws full extended. As much as Ray hoped to win her over, this feral or abandoned animal would have none of it, having survived only by stealth, aggression, and distrust of any enemy in her path. When we first met, her fierce warrior nature kept her alive in a threatening world.
Late fall surrendered to early winter, and Ray never abandoned this cat. Every night fresh food and water waited for her, and often Ray would sit, bundled up against the cold, to welcome her from a distance. Little by little, the cat came a bit closer to the man, but any move from him brought out claws and fangs ready to do battle. Still, she came, seeming to grow in trust of both his gifts and his presence. Then one night when Ray came back inside from his watch, he told me that she had rubbed up against his leg. After that, their relationship progressed, always on her terms, but finally to Ray’s lap where she began to curl up, sharing warmth against the cold. Only when caught off guard did the fangs and claws of war and instinct come out. Ray’s gentleness, patience, and offer of a peaceful coexistence became a way of life between them.
Eleven years later, Ray was the one fighting for survival, at war with a life-threatening illness that took him into dark and lonely places. Unable to walk without assistance, spending most of his days in a wheelchair or bed, peace of any kind seemed distant. Ray and I hunkered down for the long haul, for the seasons of unrelenting uncertainty brought on by progressive disease. As Ray fought through loss and discouragement, I longed to be his peace-giver, but caregiver fatigue often overwhelmed me while I battled alongside him.
Ray’s peace, then, on many days, came through the gift of this once wild warrior-cat. Through years of receiving Ray’s unrelenting trustworthiness and gentleness, Cletis (now her name), had moved from porch, to chair, to hearth, and finally to bedside. At first, she served as his work companion, stationing herself on his desk during the day, and when work closed out, taking the night watch on the top of his recliner. Immersed in Ray’s peaceful countenance, Cletis assumed a posture of peace in our home, even welcoming guests unconditionally with purrs and caresses.
I watch this transformation over the years, Ray offering and embodying peace to this cat, who at their first meeting struck out for blood if Ray came near. Later when I looked across the den, Cletis could not get close enough to Ray, curled up on his lap or stretched across his chest, warming him, soothing him, reassuring him, and bringing him peace.
When the season for hospice care drew us in, Cletis’s loyalty to Ray remained unfaltering. She stayed with him, literally, to the peaceful end of his life, stretching out on his hospital bed so close that we often had to peel her off Ray. She kept watch night and day, nuzzling and pawing every once in a while to let him know she was there for him, just as he had been for her.
Now from the top of Ray’s recliner, Cletis waits and watches for me to come home each day. She has turned her loving attention in my direction, sitting on my lap and stretching out, long and warm, against my side. She helps me remember the peace that Ray brought into my life and into hers. She reminds me that Ray’s heart was committed to living as a person of peace, not just with other people but with all of creation. Blessed are the peacemakers in this world. Blessed are the peacemakers of Advent and beyond.
Come quickly, Prince of Peace.
Have you had a time in your life when, like the cat, you lacked peace – feeling defensive, threatened, afraid, traumatized, a time of broken relationship with others, with God, with yourself? What are the ways that God offered you peace, quietly, persistently? Perhaps through a person or a creature? Perhaps in gradual steps of growing trust and slow surrender?
When have you been the peacemaker, offering peace to a person or creature or place? How did it feel to share peace? What did you do to make peace? In this dark, uncertain Advent season how might you again share the good news of perfect peace, of shalom shalom?
Communion Song: “Shalom Chavarim”
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