From Busyness to Peace
Does anyone else have major calendar drama during the Christmas season? Between end-of-semester events, family gatherings, shopping, decorating, and church services, it feels like December’s calendar has more drama than a reality show. All of this while we’re supposed to be reflecting on “peace on earth.”
Peace at Christmas can feel so unreachable that it makes us laugh so that we don’t cry. Sure, I’ll schedule in a little time for peace too. I’ve got 30 seconds to spare on December 10th around 3pm. Will that be enough peace for the season?
How in the world did we get here? To this place of fragmentation and hurry, spread so thin over an expanse of activities that we can’t even recognize ourselves anymore. When I consider where I started to lean into busyness as opposed to the call of peace and stillness, I unearthed a problem: all this time, I had been carrying the idea that my value was tied to my productivity. Somewhere along the way, I started believing that if I just did enough, I would finally be enough.
Unfortunately, seeking to do something in order to be something only resulted in a shattered sense of self that needed a miracle to be put back together.
I have a feeling I’m not the only one who has gone down the path of busyness in search of peace.
So, what does peace actually look like? We have a marvelous example in the person of Mary, Jesus’s mother. This young woman had her life completely shattered by God. Seriously. Think about it. We tend to think of Mary as the blessed one, but I wonder if she felt that way when she faced the chaos God introduced. She wasn’t married yet, and God gave her the job of carrying the Son of God. For the rest of her days, the majority of society would label her as a woman of ill repute and her son, God’s Son, as illegitimate (in Hebrew, a mamzer). Her identity forever shifted. I wonder if God’s announcement to her left her feeling shattered, scattered, and very devoid of peace.
And yet, look at how she responds. In the face of shattering circumstances, she says, “I am the Lord’s servant.” (Luke 1:38) Her identity as a vessel for the Lord’s will was deeper and more foundational for her than her identity as a woman of good repute. Her peace was not in her external sense of accomplishment, reputation, or relationship to her larger community. It was found in her identity as a daughter of God.
In Hebrew, the word for peace is shalom, which has a more complex meaning than our English word for peace. It speaks of completeness, wholeness, a state of well-being where everything fits together and is harmonious. We don’t find this kind of shalom outside of restoration in our relationship to God. Oh, do we try, but everything else falls short.
Mary modeled what it looks like to carry both chaos and peace at the same time. Maybe Jesus learned that rhythm first from her. Have you ever noticed how relaxed Jesus was despite the chaos around him? His identity was never tied to His productivity or His reputation. It was grounded in His complete connection to the Father.
Mary had peace. Jesus had peace.
While their chaos was not as self-inflicted as ours often is, their day-to-day was probably not conducive to peace. How can we move toward the shalom that they possessed in the midst of their chaos?
Say no. A sense of shalom needs to start with saying no to the world’s answer of “doing” in order to “be.” We need to be a people that learn to say “enough,” and one of the best ways to do this is through incorporating a weekly Sabbath rest. God built this into creation from the beginning because He knew that we would want to work ourselves—or others—into the ground. This weekly pause, set aside for celebration, delight, and resting in the provision of God, reminds us that our deepest identity is in our dependent relationship to God, our Father. Give it a try. The first several weeks and months of making space for a Sabbath is difficult work, but I cannot begin to articulate the sense of wholeness that it has given back to me since incorporating it into my life about two years ago. I do not do it perfectly, by any means, but God has been faithful to use it to make space in my life for me to lean into His better identity for me as His daughter rather than a machine that just does things.
Say yes. Shalom is also saying yes to what God says about you—what you are and what you are not. You are not limitless. You are not independent or all-powerful. You are NOT God. Shalom comes from acknowledging this and repenting from your desire and ambition to be something you were never created to be. On the flip side, God says these things about you:
You are loved, even in the mess. (Romans 5:8)
He chose you. (Ephesians 1:4–5)
He knows you: the good, the bad, and the things you don’t even know. (Psalm 139:1–4)
He designed you for His good pleasure. (Philippians 2:13)
He sings over you. (Zephaniah 3:17)
He will always take care of you. (1 Peter 5:7)
He wants to partner with you to bring shalom to the world. (Matthew 5:9)
Shalom for the world needs to start in you first. Peace starts by you accepting His words of love over you. Say yes.
Respond with worship. Sometimes we get the idea that peace is just lying around and doing nothing. Certainly, part of peace is rest and getting down time when we need it, but it’s not laziness. Peace is a bit more complex than that. When I think of shalom and peace, I think of living my everyday life as an act of worship. It is doing what God has called me to do in the moment—whatever that may be—and doing it out of the identity He has given me as His partner, not with a sense of striving and anxiety that is fearful of the results.
When we are saying no to the wrong path to peace, and yes to the Author of peace, our lives will look a lot less scattered and a lot more like a flourishing garden that invites others to stop, breathe, and remember that peace is possible—even here.