As I was sitting in the office this week, looking out the window at the beautiful colours of God’s autumn canvas—the dark grey of distant clouds, patches of pastel blue sky, the rich chocolate brown of crumpled leaves on the footpath, and the vibrant reds and oranges of leaves about to float there— the serenity of such a beautiful scene was suddenly shattered.
A ute abruptly pulled up by the footpath—so abruptly that a motorist behind blared their horn in disgust. Others joined in the beeping as they slowly manoeuvred around the ute, and a few yelled out some not so pleasant advice.
Oblivious, the driver jumped out and shouted to someone on the footpath: “Quick! Over here!” The man on the footpath called out something in reply, before breaking into an awkward jog. Struggling with what he was carrying, he climbed up on the wall, balanced precariously, and went to work. What had they spotted? What were they doing? What was the urgency?
A stobie pole—one without any election corflutes attached! What a rare opportunity! Prime promotional space! As inconvenienced drivers continued to beep, the duo busily strapped the face of their candidate high for all to see. Their eagle eye had paid off as the van of a rival independent slowly cruised by, seemingly with the same objective in mind. In the midst of all the stress and swearing, these two fellas had staved off the competition and won the battle for the stobie pole.
I felt as though this year’s election campaign intensified to a battle unlike any other in recent memory. For me, the rush for the stobie pole out the front of the office gave a glimpse of the intensity of the campaign battle of the last few months. I can’t remember seeing so many corflutes as this year, and bombardment of TV ads and text message, the vast majority of which carried a negative message. The placards, shouting and screaming, accusations, pessimism and put-downs has been intense.
Well, now it’s over! Peace at last!
Thanks be to God that we enjoy such freedoms in this country to do this. But the politicking of recent weeks show that although we live in times of peace, on another level our society is in deep turbulence. There is anxiety about our economic security, international relations, the end of the planet, the end of our lives, the end of our freedoms and rights for whatever group it is with which people identify. Social media has brought slander and bullying to a higher level than ever before, where words cut more deeply than knives. That brings to mind a quote by a Hungarian-American psychiatrist, Thomas Szasz:
“The struggle for definition is veritably the struggle for life itself. In the typical Western two men fight desperately for the possession of a gun that has been thrown to the ground: whoever reaches the weapon first shoots and lives; his adversary is shot and dies. In ordinary life, the struggle is not for guns but for words; whoever first defines the situation is the victor; his adversary, the victim. For example, in the family, husband and wife, mother and child do not get along: who defines who as troublesome or mentally sick?…[the one] who first seizes the word imposes reality on the other: [the one] who defines thus dominates and lives; and [the one] who is defined is subjugated and may be killed.”¹
There was a lot of this happening in recent weeks. But then again, we have heard a lot of this for a long time. People putting others down in the desperate search for their own peace.
In their campaigning for yesterday’s election, each of the parties and candidates promised much, and everything they promised was a solution to the problems of key issues troubling Australians. In a way, they all promised peace.
But what is peace? We usually define peace in a negative sense—that is, by the absence, or subtraction of certain things in our lives: conflict, annoyance, worry, tension, aggression, stress. It is asserted that through the removal of things such as these, peace is found. But is it even possible for a person to remove all negative things in their life and find peace? The troubles of this world never seem far away each day.
In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus says: ““Peace I leave with you.” This peace is his own peace: My peace I give to you. Real peace is not the removal of something, but something added, something given from outside of ourselves—the presence of God in the midst of trouble: “My Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
How sweet these words would have sounded to the disciples. Their hearts were troubled and afraid, because Jesus told them he was going away; going to the Father. What did this all mean, anyway? In the verses before our text Jesus had just told them of his own coming death. Perhaps some of them might have thought Jesus had got this all terribly wrong and that he didn’t really realise what he was saying. They felt shock, confusion and grief. Where would they go? Who would teach them? What were they meant to do? What would become of them in a community so hostile to Jesus and his followers?
But God had a much bigger plan than what the disciples could see, anticipate, or desire would be his way of working in the world. They should be glad that Jesus was going to the Father—that is, after his death, and resurrection, Jesus would ascend to his Father in Heaven who sent him, opening the way for all believers to ascend to heaven the same way. Jesus said to them: “I have told you now before it happens, so that when it does happen you will believe.” It’s all in God’s hands. His will will be done. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
What causes you worry? The situation your loved ones find themselves in? A sudden health crisis? International instability; the threat of war and terror? Being left alone or unloved? Aggression in our society? Family troubles? Workplace conflict? Your financial future? The future of the church? The kind of world your children are faced with?
Where do you go to find peace?
No political leader can give the deep peace we need. But God is King over all the earth and Jesus is Lord of all. The Father called the Holy Spirit to walk beside the disciples and remind them of everything Jesus has taught them. And as they hold these words of Christ dear, Jesus promises that he and his Father would come and make their home with them.
The Spirit is everywhere present. There is nowhere in this world God is not. He is in every place, every room, every church, every hospital bedside, every intersection, every workplace, every school, and wherever there is fear and worry. It’s hard to find one all-encompassing word in English to describe the Holy Spirit but the Greek has the sense of one walking alongside another. While the Spirit is everywhere, the Spirit also walks alongside you. Through Jesus the Father has sent the Holy Spirit to be your Comforter, your Advocate, your Counsellor. The Holy Spirit opens your ears to remember the words of Christ and hear again his promise: “Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
These are not just nice words of encouragement. They are words that actually do something— they bestow peace. As Jesus pronounces peace, his words actually give that peace. In Philippians. 4:7, a verse used after the preaching of the sermon, we hear that the peace of God which passes all understanding, will guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. To guard means “to keep watch over.” The peace of God protects us from anxiety, doubt, fear, and distress. The peace that Jesus gives is not passive but active; it is not prevented by circumstances but triumphs over them, turning sorrow into joy, fear into courage, and doubt into confidence.
In whatever you face at the moment, God is with you. Jesus and his Father have made their home with you. The Holy Spirit is with you too, for wherever the Father and the Son is, so is the Holy Spirit. This is not a temporary arrangement, not just renting space before moving to a better option. God is not shifting out. And as they dwell with you, Jesus gives to you his peace.
You can be sure that this is true, because Jesus says so. “I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” Jesus doesn’t give to us as the world gives: based on popularity, or performance, what others think we deserve, or what he might get in return for his troubles. There are no conditions, or fine print. Jesus’ giving to us is not dependent on anything about us. He gives freely and fully, putting everyone else first, and himself last.
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you
That’s a promise signed in blood. As we come to our crucified, risen and ascended Lord again today to eat and drink his holy and precious body and blood for forgiveness, life and salvation, God speaks: “The peace of the Lord be with you always.”
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” That’s God’s peace for you. Not to the end of the service. Not to the end of the week. Not even to the end of your life on this earth. But peace always. Amen.
¹ Szasz, Thomas Stephen (1973). The second sin. Anchor Press. Cited in https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Szasz, last accessed 21 May 2022, 4:40pm.
