Monday, August 30, 2021

The Counter-Intuitive and Otherworldly Invitation to Peace

In my devotional time this morning, I found myself reading and praying through Psalm 46, where the psalmist writes, “Come and see what the Lord has done, the desolations he has brought on the earth. He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth. He breaks the bow and shatters the spear; he burns the shields with fire.” Or as the devotional author suggested this be rewritten in today’s language: “He breaks the assault rifles and shatters the drones; he burns weapons of mass destruction with fire.”

Which feels like such a helpful reminder for my soul, at a time where our world is embroiled in conflict – with the most current and personal happening right now in Afghanistan. As you all know, our country suffered a great tragedy this week as 13 of our military service members were killed in a terrorist attack outside the airport in Kabul. And while the immediate response of violent retribution against the perpetrators, terrorist group ISIS-K, might have been justified in a worldly sense, President Biden’s use of the book of Isaiah to justify this violent reaction was extremely troubling. He’s not the first American leader to do this and won’t be the last, but it was still vastly misguided and needs to be called out.

Psalm 46, amongst so many other places in scripture, reminds us that the way of God is always one of peace. What we come to understand most clearly through Jesus’ depiction of God, is that God is a creator of life, not a taker of one. God has always sought to bring about shalom in our world, a right ordering of all that is so we can properly live in harmony with God, each other, ourselves, and creation.

And it shouldn’t surprise us then, that the very next line after this anti-violent section of Psalm 46 is one of the most well-known verses in all of the Bible: “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). Because the proper response to violence isn’t the clamor of more violence, but a peaceful silence in the presence of God. When we are riled by the din of destruction, we must untangle our unsettled hearts and remember what is ultimately true about our God-soaked world. 

Which, I understand that peaceful non-violence is counter-intuitive and easy to doubt its potential effectiveness. But, to be honest, violence and retribution aren’t exactly solving our world’s problems either, are they? So what do we have to lose in giving peace a shot? Or, as John Lennon so beautifully articulated: “All we are saying is give peace a chance.”

The psalmist’s invitation is to trust the God of peace enough to calm our warring hearts and choose a better way forward. When we’re confronted with conflict and tempted toward retaliation, the only godly response is one of quiet humility, where we still our hearts and mouths, remember the shalomic calling of God, and intentionally choose peace and forgiveness over anger and revenge.

Thursday, August 5, 2021

On High Alert with God

Have you ever found yourself alone in the woods--hiking, biking, camping, or backpacking--and suddenly remembered that you're trudging through bear country? Have you ever had that sneaky suspicion something was nearby? You try to ignore the fear, you try to put the thought behind you, but you suddenly can't stop thinking about the fact that you're not alone in these woods after all.

You notice every sound. You're aware of every rodent scurrying through the brush. You're attuned to each gust of wind whistling through the trees. And with each noise, you find yourself wondering which large, ferocious animal is approaching to devour you.

I had this very sensation on Monday morning in Helena. I had dropped our kids off for a few, fun days with their grandparents, but decided to catch a quick mountain bike ride on the ridge of Mt. Helena before heading back home. And I'm not exaggerating about the noticing of noises and the fear of the ferocious that settles in when I'm alone in the wilderness. I hear everything. I constantly scour the area searching for predators. I process whether I'd be able to turn around and outrun a bear on my bike, whether I'd pick the bike up and use it to fight off the bear, or whether I'd just lay down and play dead. And I even find myself talking aloud to myself to warn any animals of my impending arrival.

In short, our senses are on high alert in the wild. We watch and wait and wonder. We see and hear and sense. Nothing goes unnoticed. Because we stand in awe of the power and majesty of God's creation.

But what if we saw our journeys with God as wilderness experiences as well? What if we also approached the Creator with fear and trembling, in awe of God's power and majesty? What if we were on high alert spiritually as well--listening for the sound of God’s spirit moving in our midst; beautifully and appropriately terrified of God’s presence all around; constantly aware of what he’s up to and how he might move in our lives?

So may we be on high alert with God, constantly attuned to his movement and presence around us. May our senses be heightened to where God is actively working in our community. And may we notice these actions and return to tell others of our encounters with the living God.