Wednesday, May 4, 2016

May 1, 2016 Sermon: "Peace...what's that?"

Stephen Baldwin
OT: Psalm 67
NT: John 14.23-29
Peace...what's that? 

            This week I had a dream, a version of which I have all the time.  It was 10:30am on a Sunday morning.  I was here at the church doing what I normally do—teaching Sunday School, choir practice, greeting folks, setting out people’s paper copies of the sermon, the CD for recording, doing whatever last minute things always need to be done.  But there was something wrong.  We needed communion cups or offering plates, I can’t remember exactly what, so I ran to a nearby church to get some. 
            When I got there, they were moving a couch.  They needed help, so I helped.  Then I talked to a few folks and tried to find whatever had brought me there in the first place.  Someone went to get it for me, and before I knew it the clock said it was already 11:05. 
            Panic overtook me like a tsunami coming ashore.  I sprinted back towards the church in my Sunday best.  But getting back to the church wasn’t as easy as I hoped.  I just kept running, and I couldn’t make my way back.  Doors would slam in my face, cars would block the road, and something always kept me from my destination.  I was exhausted, my watch said 11:20, and I was sure that if I ever got back to the church you would rightfully fire me for not being here the most important time of the week. 
And then I woke up.  In a cold sweat.  Heart racing.  Panic-stricken. 
            If  it didn’t happen frequently, it would be funny.  I’m a worrier.  Anxiety seems to come as easily to me as biscuits do to gravy.  Those of you who are like me are now anxious on my behalf.  Thank you.  And those of you who don’t have anxieties rightfully think those of us who do are off our rocker. 
            Anxiety is an odd thing.  The Bible makes it clear that it’s about as useful to us as Judas was to Jesus, but then again…Judas did outlive Jesus.  Anxiety and worry have a way of sticking around, even when we know they’re no good for us. 
            I bring all of this up because the disciples are dealing with their own anxieties and worries in this week’s passage.  Jesus is about to leave them, and they’re filled with uncertainties.  He has promised not to orphan them.  He has promised the send the Holy Spirit to aid them.  He has promised God will not abandon them.  But still, they worry.  Life with Jesus has been stressful enough; will life after Jesus be even worse?   
            In today’s reading from John, Jesus tries to assuage their anxieties. Read John 14.23-29. 
            What is the opposite of anxiety?  Peace.  “Peace I leave with you.”  Peace is the opposite of anxiety, which is what makes it so fleeting in a society so overloaded with information it’s not hard to find something to be anxious about.  We don’t have to try hard, do we? 
            Yet for Jesus, over two thousand  years ago, it was of great importance that his disciples not be anxious.  Not be nervous.  Not be fearful of life after his death.   Why did that matter so much to Jesus?  Because he came to give us peace. 
            Let’s think for a minute about what kind of peace Jesus left us.  The passage says it’s not the peace the world gives.  Peace in the world’s sense is an absence of conflict.  Since we’re talking about dreams, that kind of peace is the stuff of beauty queen dreams.  Peace in the sense of an absence of conflict if a fairy tale.  It won’t happen in this world. 
The peace Jesus gives us different.  In Greek, the language of the New Testament, the word used for “peace” means “the tranquil state of a soul, content with its earthly lot.”  That’s a totally different concept than the world’s peace.  The peace Jesus gives is not dependent on the absence of conflict.  Rather, it assumes there will be conflict.  You will have reasons to worry, reasons to be anxious, reasons to be stressed.  Sometimes even good ones.  But you don’t have to if you find a tranquil state in your soul, where you are content with your earthly lot. 
Some of you may be thinking, as we asked in Bible Study, “But how?”  The disciples could look him in the eye and hear his promise of peace yet even they didn’t get it!  How do we get that peace Jesus promises?  I need to end this sermon, for heaven’s sake, and you know that I don’t have the answer—I worry even in my dreams! 
So I did what we all do when we don’t have the answer; I searched for answers.  I read everything I could get my hands on this week about anxiety and peace.  Here are a few helpful hints I learned from a combination of theologians and psychologists and sociologists.   Perhaps one or two will help you. 
One.  When you have a big problem causing you anxiety and a lack of peace, solve it.  Rationally discern if it’s fixable and how you would go about doing it. 
Two.  Embrace chaos and conflict.  Realize that it is the way of the world.  You cannot control everything.  So why try? 
Three.  Pray.  When you get stressed, pray.  When you get anxious, pray.  Stop what you are doing and thinking, go to a private space, and tell God all about it. 
Four.  Smile.  Even if you have to fake it.  Make yourself happy even for a moment and see how that changes you.  If it helps, carry a photo of someone or something that always gives you peace, and pull it out whenever you need to. 
Five.  Be thankful.  Instead of dwelling on what is bothering you, count all the things that bless you.  By focusing on gratitude, our entire outlook on life changes.  There is literally no room for worry when we are grounded in gratitude to God. 
These are just a few examples of ways to move beyond anxieties which I found this week.  I’m going to try them, and I invite you to do the same.  I worry they won’t work very well, but…ha ha. 

One that wasn’t mentioned is what we’re about to do, and I have always found it awfully peaceful--taking communion.  During prayer time after we’ve eaten our bread and while we’re holding our cup, let’s focus on praying for Christ’s peace.  Peace he left us long ago; peace we still struggle to hang onto now; peace we still seek earnestly every day.  Amen.   

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