What Happens Next?

Epiphany of the Lord

January 6, 2019

Matthew 2:1-12

My 4 year old was a wise man in the children’s Christmas Eve service this year, so to prepare we read a book about wise men. I pulled out the one I had as a kid called “The Secret of the Star.” It ends, “Then silently, with singing hearts and wondrous news to bear, they journeyed to their own home lands to tell the people there about the Prince of Peace God sent to save people everywhere!” And it got me thinking, what happened after? Surely the wise men told people, like the shepherds did. We know “all were amazed at what the shepherds told them.” What about the wise men? Surely they told family, friends, and fellow travelers on the road. Surely their lives were different, too. After all, they went “home by another way.” They had met the living Christ and were changed by the encounter. Another children’s book about the wise men that came out last year, “Home by Another Way,” describes the star as the “tug they had been waiting for all their lives” and how they knew all their previous learning and studies didn’t matter anymore. They’d been changed after following the star. They’d been changed after meeting Jesus. But what happened after? The Bible doesn’t tell us. It continues on with Jesus’ story, not the wise men’s. Yet, surely life didn’t return to normal when they got back home, or did it? Was it like New Year’s resolutions that only last for a couple months? Or was it truly life-changing?

There’s an old saying that you can never go home again. The first example of this in print is a book by Thomas Wolfe called “You Can’t Go Home Again” that was published in 1940.[1] The main character is an author who wrote a successful novel about his hometown. When he returns to that town, he is not welcomed, because his family and friends felt exposed by the book. He then travels to New York, then Paris, then Berlin as Hitler is rising to power, and then back to America. You can’t go home again because while you’ve been away, home has changed, and you have changed. When the wise men returned home, what did they find? They’d been gone probably a couple years on this trip to follow the star wherever it led. Had they been presumed dead? Had their house been sold? Was someone else using their equipment for reading the stars? Did their pets remember them? Did their homes remember them? And were they remembered as eccentric old coots or a little more fondly? I know it’s all speculation. But my point is that the wise men changed on their journey to and from Bethlehem. And their homes in the East changed, too. What kind of new normal did they find? Did they go back to studying the stars? Or did they predate Paul in telling people about Jesus? What happened after they went home by another way?

It astonishes me that I have been home from Nicaragua for 12 years now. Many of you know that I served there with a mission agency for over a year before going to seminary and it was, in fact, from Nicaragua, that God called me to seminary. Me being here begins with God calling me to Nicaragua, following a different star. It was similar in some ways to the wise men, leaving home and country for God only knew how long. Packing up and saying goodbye. Arriving in a strange land where I’d never been before, met at the airport by people I’d never met before. Adjusting to a new life, new culture, new food. It was funny, my husband said something the other day that triggered a memory from Nicaragua that I had never told him before, and he’s heard just about everything. I even took him to Nicaragua 9 years ago to meet the people I served with and the family I lived with and to see the schools where I taught and the buses I rode. I lived, taught, and served in Nicaragua for 13 months, and then God sent me home. Home by another way, even. Home with rheumatoid arthritis. Home so sick that I barely remember that first month back in North Carolina. Home, and applying to seminary, something to which I had previously said No. Home, and not teaching. Home, and not working in a school. I was significantly changed when I returned home. And home was changed, too. My mom and stepdad had been empty-nesters for 4 months. My middle sister was married and moved out and my youngest sister had started her first semester of college. Some stores had closed and others had opened. A road had been widened. New houses had been built. Home wasn’t the same, either.

What happened next? I continued down that same trajectory that God had started me on. I applied to and visited seminaries. I worked from home for the mission agency as an education consultant on a couple USAID projects. I started dating my husband.  I learned how to live with a chronic disease and began the process of getting it under control. While we’re not told the ‘what happens next’ for the wise men, that’s just as important as following the star itself. After the aha moment, after the life-changing event, after meeting Jesus, do you treat it as a new year’s resolution, 80% of which will fail by the second week of February,[2] or does life truly change? With some of these events, like a chronic disease, life has no choice but to change. I donated over half my shoes because it hurt too much to wear them. I bought my first SUV, because on bad days I couldn’t get up out of a low riding car. In seminary, I didn’t carry a bookbag or a shoulder bag. No, I wheeled around an office laptop carry-on suitcase and I knew where all the elevators were. I didn’t park in the yellow parking lot most of my classmates used, because it was a half mile walk from there. I parked in the other yellow lot with the business and law students because from there I could ride the shuttle to a stop much closer to the Divinity School. Life changed drastically, because there was no choice about it.

Some people meet Jesus and choose for it not to change their lives. They don’t want to change. They’d rather stay in the darkness. They don’t want to take the risk of being asked to give up home and hearth. Some of us have no choice but to change. Jesus touches you, sets his hand on you, appears to you and it becomes like the pearl of great price. Jesus says, “The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it.”[3] What will you do when you find a pearl of great value? What have you done in the past?

There was a saying in seminary about letting the Bible read you, rather than you reading the Bible. You can read about the wise men following the star and think, hey, cool story. Wonder if it really happened. That doesn’t tell me anything about how I should live today. Or, you can listen to this story in sacred text about learned men up and leaving their homes to follow a star that led them to Jesus, and then they went home by another way and the narrative of the story follows Jesus. The books may have their picture on the cover, the song title may be their name, “We Three Kings of Orient Are,” but this is all really about Jesus. It’s not about us. What happens next, what we choose to do after meeting Jesus is important. Because remember, we are part of God’s story. It’s not that God is part of your story. Your story does not exist apart from God. God knit you together in your mother’s womb, knew all the days of your life when none of them existed, written in God’s book.[4] Your story is part of God’s story. If there were to be a second book of Acts of the Apostles, what would your role be? Would you be in the background like Matthias, a follower holy enough to be chosen to replace Judas among the twelve disciples yet about whom nothing else is known? Would you be like Barnabas who sold his field and gave all the money to the disciples? Or would you be like Ananias and Sapphira who sold a piece of property and kept back a majority of the proceeds for themselves, only giving part of it to God’s work? Can you be full of grace and power, like Stephen, the first martyr? Can you go where God sends you? Can you share God’s love with the people God entrusts to you to love?

These last few questions, by the way, were how I got to Nicaragua. It was a bible study on Acts, where we were encouraged for each section to write what we read and what God said. God kept asking me these questions: Can you go? Can you do this? Can you be like Stephen? And Paul? And Barnabas? And I finally got the hint and said ok, God and began the process of discerning the particulars of what God was calling me to do. The story of the wise men and the star often gets flattened to sound like it wasn’t much of a discernment process. Yet in the books, they consult with each other. They verify with each other that they are reading this new star correctly. And they set off on a journey to see what they find, not knowing where they’re going, just knowing they can’t imagine not going. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime that they are not going to pass up. It’s the chance to be written into God’s story. You, we, are already part of God’s story. Lisbon is part of God’s story. What happens next? Is this the pearl of great price that is worth everything? Are you willing to risk everything? Or are you going to walk on by? And if you do decide it’s worth everything, what happens after that? You’ve inherited the kingdom of God, now you have to live it. I’m still talking about Nicaragua 12 years later. I don’t think about it as often as I used to, but I still have artwork up in my house. I still have a picture on my wall of my husband and me with my Nicaraguan family. I still pray for them and follow the news out of there. And amazingly, I don’t think anyone’s gotten tired of me talking about it. Because this is part of my story, which is part of God’s story. We don’t ever get tired of talking about or telling God’s story. And I’m sure the wise men didn’t, either.

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[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/You_Can't_Go_Home_Again#Title

[2] https://www.businessinsider.com/new-years-resolutions-courses-2016-12

[3] Matthew 13:45-46

[4] Psalm 139:13, 16

"Calm and Bright"

Christmas Eve 2018

Luke 2:1-20

            I am not fooled. Y’all are not here tonight for the sermon. You hope to hear a good word, yes. But this is one worship service where the sermon is not a big draw. You’re here for the candlelight and the carols. You’re here for the familiarity and the feeling of warmth and family. You’re here to make sure God is still speaking, God is still entering history; God is still speaking to you and is still willing to enter your history and your life. What makes this time of worship especially beautiful is that it’s dark outside but the church is lit up. There is a light shining in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it. This time is beautiful because when we sing “Silent Night,” we will dim the electric lights, so that our candles can be better seen. There is darkness in the world, and in our lives, so the little candle we each hold is a promise, a reminder that “the people walking in darkness have seen a great light and on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned,” as says the prophet Isaiah. The candle is a light shining in the darkness that the darkness cannot overcome, as is found in the Gospel of John. We come tonight to be reminded that there is hope, that there is light. We come for the calm and bright.

            This year is the 200^th anniversary of “Silent Night” and we’ve been commemorating that in a worship series this Advent. Each of the four Sundays we focused on a different verse and now we’re here on Christmas Eve, the night when we will finally sing the whole song. This won’t just be about peace or hope or joy or redeeming grace, it’s about all of them. While we’ve tried to tease them apart this Advent, the truth is they all go together. The first Sunday I shared about the Christmas Truce of World War I. In 1914, on the Western Front, the two sides agreed to a ceasefire in honor of the holiday. One day of peace. During that time of quiet, the soldiers could hear each other singing “Silent Night, Holy Night,” each in their own language. They recognized they were singing the same Christmas carol and came out of their trenches and met up in no man’s land, to sing together and play soccer and exchange small gifts. One day of peace became one day of joy and love and probably even hope. This is what Christmas carols like “Silent Night” can do. They can reach into our lives that are troubled with pain and despair and offer the incredible promise of hope. Perhaps this Christmas can be a ceasefire from our own sources of conflict.

God came at Christmas in the tiny, vulnerable package of a baby so that we might have hope and courage in the dark and in the pain. This is why we gather, so that God might enter our lives even now. No wonder we grow quiet. The first Christmas probably wasn’t silent and calm, with all the noises of the animals and the baby and the bustle of people all around and Romans guards. Yet somehow we get from the hustle and bustle and endless to-do lists to a time when “all is calm, all is bright.” It’s not escapism and it’s not denial. It’s simply allowing worship of Jesus Christ the newborn baby to be first. It’s remembering that this baby is King, and is in charge. It’s remembering why this baby came, to be a light in the darkness, to be the redeeming grace we so desperately need.

There’s another Christmas carol called “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day” that’s based on a poem called “Christmas Bells” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. The poem begins, “I heard the bells on Christmas Day/ Their old, familiar carols play,/ and wild and sweet/ The words repeat/ Of peace on earth, good-will to men!” It starts off nice and sweet, right? Here’s a little of the backstory: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s wife died in 1835. He remarried in 1843, and then she died in a house fire in 1861. Shortly thereafter, his son was wounded in the Civil War. With war raging, and bearing so much loss, he woke up on Christmas day 1863, right in the middle of the Civil War and wrote this poem. One of the middle stanzas says, “The cannon thundered in the South,/ And with the sound/ The carols drowned/ Of peace on earth, good-will to men!” And the last two stanzas, the end of the poem, “And in despair I bowed my head;/ "There is no peace on earth," I said;/ "For hate is strong,/ And mocks the song/ Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"// Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:/ "God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;/ The Wrong shall fail,/ The Right prevail,/ With peace on earth, good-will to men."”

This is why we are here tonight. To hear those bells peal out louder than hate and despair. To be reminded that there is hope. To be reminded that conflicts will end. To be reminded that the darkness does not prevail because the light will always shine in the darkness. To be reminded that we can be calm even in the midst of the storm and bright even in the midst of darkness. And we hold the light for others whose candles have been lost. You can always find the light here. You can always find the calm and bright here. There is a light shining in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it. God is still speaking in the carols and in the candlelight, offering that incredible promise of hope. This is why we come. This is why we are able to grow calm and quiet during this time of worship.

Let Us Sing (HOPE)

4^th Sunday of Advent

 December 23, 2018

Isaiah 9:6; Matthew 2:1-12

            The first Star Wars movie that came out was subtitled “Episode IV: A New Hope.” It was the middle of a story, whose beginning wasn’t told until twenty years later. Can you imagine if George Lucas had started with Episode I, “The Phantom Menace,” instead? The franchise probably wouldn’t have taken off like it did. Instead, he started with Episode IV, which he called “A New Hope.” He introduced the saga with a movie about hope.  Episode IV opens with despair, as Darth Vader and the stormtroopers board Princess Leia’s ship, kill many of her men, and take her prisoner. The droids, C-3PO and R2D2, escape with the plans for the Death Star and the message for Obi Wan Kenobi. In that message Leia tells Obi Wan, “You’re our only hope,” and we learn that the hope actually lies with Luke, not Obi Wan. In the midst of despair and everything going wrong, where do you find hope? As Christians, our hope is also in a person, only instead of a Jedi Knight, it’s the Savior of the universe, Jesus Christ, whose birth we will celebrate tomorrow. Advent isn’t just a season about anticipation and preparation, it’s also a season about hope. Hope because even “in the bleak midwinter,” the Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ, came. There is always hope.

            While I’ve preached before about hope, one thing I came across this time around was about hope’s relationship with fear. Dr. Marcia McFee, who designed the worship series we’ve been using this Advent, included a comment for this week that perhaps “the opposite of fear is not simply ‘calm,’ but rather it is hope. Hope serves as defiance against despair.”[1] In the face of despair, you need hope. However, in the face of fear, you also need hope. You need the hope that you will get through this. You need the assurance that God has brought you this far and will not let you go now. That’s why our hope is always in God. Yet Dr. McFee also included this comment, “If people can’t access their hope, they live by their fear.” If you can’t access your hope, if you forget about your hope, if you’re kept from your hope, if you, for some reason, keep yourself from your hope, if you don’t dare to hope, then you cannot live hopefully. Instead, you live fearfully. You let yourself get caught up in the fear story. And there is enough fear and scarcity out there already. We talked some about that last week. Fear of missing out. Fear of running out. Fear of not enough. No. I heard an acronym for fear this week that I really like. Fear, F E A R, is False Evidence Appearing Real. Fear is something that’s not true, tricking you into thinking it is. Fear of not enough. No, there is enough. Fear of missing out. No, there are so many opportunities out there. Fear of dying. No. We Christians believe in the resurrection and in eternal life. We believe that death is not the end. We put our hope in God’s abundance. In God we trust, and will not fear. In God we hope, and will not despair.

            A wonderful sign of hope is singing. The fourth verse of Silent Night says, “with the angels let us sing, Alleluia to our King.” This is a sign of hope in the face of fear. While the prophet Isaiah said the child born to us will be called the prince of peace, that was also a name given to Caesar Augustus, the Roman Emperor when Jesus was born. The wise men, themselves sometimes called Kings of the Orient, seek a newborn King. King Herod hears the news and is troubled and terrified. He’s worked hard to secure his kingdom. There can’t be another King. Yet, “with the angels let us sing, Alleluia to our King.” We sing to our King, King Jesus. It’s a sign of hope. The government isn’t king. The weather isn’t king. No political party is king. No country is king. Capitalism isn’t king. Amazon isn’t king. Jesus is King. Singing Alleluia to our King gets our priorities back in line. God is God and we are not. Sing to God. Sing in the face of despair.

            Acts 16 tells the story of one of the times the apostle Paul was put in prison. This time it was because he commanded an evil spirit to come out of a slave girl. Now, that spirit had enabled the enslaved girl to predict the future and her owners made a great deal of money off her fortune-telling. When the owners realized their hope of money making was gone, they dragged Paul and Silas before the authorities, accusing them of advocating customs unlawful for Romans to accept or practice. The authorities had them flogged and thrown in prison. What did Paul and Silas do in prison? They prayed and they sang hymns to God. I remember this because a previous pastor at my sending church in North Carolina preached about this. Her sermon was about hymns you can take to jail with you. In the face of despair, what hymns can you sing? In the face of fear, can you dare to sing “Amazing Grace” or “How Great Thou Art”? Or maybe “O come O come Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel”[2]? Here I am, God. Please come save me. God, you are great and your goodness endures forever. What hymn is a sign of hope for you? What song could you manage to get out in order to defy the darkness? One way to spark hope is by singing. Try it sometime. It doesn’t matter how you sound, because that’s not the point. The goal is to “spark hope.”[3]

What are some other ways to spark hope? Call out fear as fear. Name is as false evidence appearing real. Remind yourself that God is in control. Remind yourself that you can do this. Remind yourself that there is hope, there is always hope, in God our Creator and Redeemer and Sustainer. “A mighty fortress is my God, a bulwark never failing.”[4] Or maybe it’s “Guide me, O thou great Jehovah, pilgrim through this barren land.”[5] Or how about: “What have I to dread, what have I to fear, leaning on the everlasting arms? I have blessed peace with my Lord so near, leaning on the everlasting arms. Leaning, leaning, safe and secure from all alarms; leaning, leaning, leaning on the everlasting arms.”[6] The hymns are full of hope in the face of fear and despair.

When I saw this fourth Sunday was about hope and I was supposed to preach about hope, my first thought was again? Another sermon about hope? I’ve done lots of sermons about hope. I told my husband and he replied, “You preach about hope all the time.” And the question changed to: How do I do a different sermon on hope? What’s new? What do we need to hear? And, why do I seem to constantly preach about hope?

I preached about hope all the time at my previous appointment. One church averaged 20 people in Sunday worship. They’d gone through many splits, many church dramas and divisions. We had some newcomers come in, but not at the same rate that older members moved away or moved on to heaven. They desperately needed to hear hope.

At the other church, we had about an even rate of newcomers and older members moving away or moving into heaven. Church attendance was around 45 while I served there. But there was some old church drama that hadn’t been dealt with. The church office is in the parsonage, but it used to be in the church building. I found the old church office. It had simply been abandoned. There was still trash in the trash can. There was still a calendar on the wall from the last year it had been used. It was bizarre. That happened a few pastors back. Then the pastor immediately before me, two weeks before moving day, committed suicide in the backyard of the parsonage and died inside the house. His mom found him two days later. That church desperately needed hope as well. And there I showed up 8 months pregnant and with a two year old, literally with the new life they so desperately needed.

            Y’all know your own story. Mostly. Actually, the story you tell about yourself is important, especially whether you cast yourself as the victim or as the heroine.[7] What’s the story you tell yourself about what happened? If you can change the story, what would happen? What do you want the story to be? Now, the story isn’t over yet. What steps do you need to take to change how that story ends?

            This is why I preach hope. Too many of us cast ourselves as the victim when we could be the heroine. Too many of us think fatalistically, as if we don’t have a choice. The truth is we do have a choice. We have the choice of how we view things and how we move forward. That’s hope. Make sure you’re telling yourself the right story. Make sure you’re telling yourself the story of Jesus. “Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine! O what a foretaste of glory divine! Heir of salvation, purchase of God, born of his Spirit, washed in his blood. This is my story, this is my song, praising my Savior all the day long; this is my story, this is my song, praising my Savior all the day long.”[8]

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[1] “Calm and Bright:200 Years of Silent Night” worship series sermon fodder

[2] UMH 211

[3] Phrase borrowed from http://www.churchesforsoh.org/mission

[4] UMH 110

[5] UMH 127

[6] UMH 133

[7] Much of this from https://coaching4todaysleaders.com/whats-the-story-youve-been-telling/

[8] UMH 369

Redeeming Grace – LOVE

3^rd Sunday of Advent

December 16, 2018

John 1:1-5, 14, 16-17

(Or watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QsbXNo1bXsc )

            My husband is slowly turning the parsonage into a Star Trek house. First he got a couple of the special outlets that you can control from an app on your phone. Then, about a year ago, he got the Alexa dot from Amazon. It’s the little round speaker that’s connected to the internet and can play music or tell stories or answer random trivia questions. And the smart outlets are hooked up to it, so it can control the devices that are plugged into them, too. Does anyone else have one? A month or so ago a colleague here in Maryland shared on social media that her husband had programmed their Alexa dot so that rather than saying, “Alexa, turn on the lights,” the voice command is now “Alexa, let there be light,” and Alexa replies, “And God said that it was good.” I was so tickled by this that I told my husband, who programmed our Alexa dot to say the same thing, only he went a step farther and changed the command for turning out the lights. You say, “Alexa, let there be darkness,” and Alexa replies, “And God said that it was less good.” Now, that bothered me a little bit, it didn’t just seem quite theologically sound, although I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. So, my husband changed her response to: “And God said that it was less good, even though that’s not as theologically sound as some might like.” So, here’s the thing. God never says that darkness is bad. Nowhere in the Bible does it say that darkness is evil. That is not anywhere in there. We’ve created a false dichotomy whereby if light is good and darkness is the opposite of light, then darkness must therefore be bad. Darkness is not bad. You can’t see the stars if it’s not dark. You can hardly see the bright flame of a candle if it’s in broad daylight.

In the Gospel of John we read, “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it.”[1] The darkness does not overcome the light, nor does the light overcome the darkness. They both exist together. “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.”[2] In the beginning, there was God, there was the earth, although it was some kind of void, there was darkness, and there was water. Then comes the first dawn: “And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light ‘day,’ and the darkness he called ‘night.’ And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.”[3] God never judges the darkness. God never says it’s less important or less good. God says the light God created is good. And you need both the light and the darkness, both the day and the night, to make up one whole day. The nighttime is just as much a part of that cycle as the daytime. When light first begins to shine in the darkness, when the night changes to day, that’s dawn. The dawn pierces the dark night and transforms it. The sky begins to lighten even before the sun first peeps above the horizon. It’s reassurance that once again life continues. And here in the third verse of “Silent Night,” Jesus’ birth is called “the dawn of redeeming grace.”

Jesus’ birth is the dawn of redeeming grace. It’s the beginning of it. What is it? Well, grace is unconditional love, love with no strings attached, love that loves no matter what. That’s what makes it so amazing. That’s how John Newton went from transporting kidnapped people for sale across the ocean to becoming an Anglican clergyman. During one horrible storm, he, who did not believe in God, called on God for mercy. And God granted mercy. Afterward, John Newton “began to ask if he was worthy of God's mercy or in any way redeemable as he had not only neglected his faith but directly opposed it, mocking others who showed theirs, deriding and denouncing God as a myth.”[4] He was obviously not worthy. That’s what makes it grace, unconditional love. About 25 years later is when John Newton wrote “Amazing Grace,” drawing on personal experience with that unconditional love, with redeeming grace. Redeeming grace is unconditional love that redeems, that makes right, that restores, and delivers, and saves, and makes good on God’s promise to always be with us. It’s Jesus, “Son of God, love’s pure light.” Jesus is “the light that shines in the darkness.” Jesus’ birth is “the dawn of redeeming grace,” the unconditional love that can save us. 

Now, the Gospel of John only uses the word “grace” four times in the entire Gospel, and all four times are found here in chapter 1 that we read this morning. “The Word became flesh and lived among us. We have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”[5] John says Jesus’ glory is full of grace and truth. We talked last week about the glory of the Lord shining on the shepherds. Jesus’ glory, a glory of grace, unconditional love, and truth, is what shone on them. John’s second and third uses of the word ‘grace’ are in the same sentence: “From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” From Jesus’s fullness, from his completeness, from his richness, we have all received, past tense; we have all already received, grace upon grace. We have received abundant grace, overflowing grace, amazing grace. There was grace, and then there was more grace, and then there was more grace, and then there was more grace: an abundance of grace, an abundance of unconditional love. I love you no matter what, and nothing can change that. Period. Finally, the fourth place John uses grace is to more fully define what to expect from Jesus. He says, “The law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.”[6] The law was given through Moses, the ten commandments, and the deuteronomic laws, which are those found in Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. Even though they weren’t all written in Moses’ lifetime, they are all attributed to him. The law came through Moses: Here’s how to live. Here’s how to be God’s people. Here’s what’s expected of you. Then grace and truth came through Jesus. I don’t know that there was a lot of falsehood in the law, but there wasn’t much grace. The law can be applied gracefully, or it can be applied stringently.

Let’s look at an example from John chapter 8. I’m going to use a paraphrase that was written by a colleague of mine from the Western North Carolina Conference.[7] “Once there was a woman who had broken the Law. Perhaps she had even broken the Law to help support her family. The authorities dragged the Law-breaker before Jesus. ‘The Law is clear,’ they said, ‘The Law says this woman must be stoned. What do you say?’ Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. He was silent. One of the authorities said again, ‘Jesus, the Law is clear. The Law says we must stone this woman. What part of illegal don't you understand?’ Jesus straightened up and said to them, ‘Let he or she who is without sin, let he or she who has never broken the Law cast the first stone.’ And then Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground again. He was silent. One by one, the authorities judged themselves: they dropped their rocks, and walked away. Jesus straightened up again and said to the Law-breaker, ‘Woman, where are they now? Has no one condemned you?’ ‘No one, sir," she said, her eyes fixed on his drawings on the ground. ‘Neither do I,’ the Judge said. ‘Go your way, and sin no more.’ Having saved her once, Jesus saved her again. The one who could, the one without sin, refused to cast a stone.”

Now listen to what’s going on here. “Jesus doesn't deny the need for Law. Jesus doesn't pretend that sin isn't sin. Jesus knows that wrong actions need to have consequences. He understands, ‘illegal.’ What Jesus apparently doesn't understand is throwing rocks. What Jesus apparently doesn’t understand is scapegoating another person or group of people to distract us from our own sinfulness. What Jesus apparently doesn't understand is refusing to apply the Law with wisdom, with understanding, with compassion, with thought of what is best for all, with grace. What Jesus apparently doesn't understand is forgetting that the Law was made for human beings, and not human beings for the Law. The Law is not equal to the Law-giver. Law cannot save. Law can never forgive. Jesus grants amnesty to the Law-breakers, because Jesus is above the Law.” That’s the grace and truth that came through Jesus.

And we have all received, out of his fullness, grace upon grace. His birth was “the dawn of redeeming grace.” How can we also share this grace? How can we nurture relationships that birth, multiply, and radiate grace in the world?  During a time that can seem as much about scarcity as about abundance – because there are only how many shopping days left? And how quickly do popular toys go out of stock? And only so many parking space, only so much time, only so much of your mental energy to go around… our God is not a god of scarcity. Our God is a god of abundance, of grace upon grace, of redeeming grace. How can we make this right? How can we be gracious? Wouldn’t you rather be known for being generous and loving than for being stingy and a stickler? Even when the world around us seems rushed and insisting on the importance of the abundance of things, let us be people who know there is enough time. There is enough. You are enough. And an abundance of grace, of love that says “I love you no matter what and nothing can ever change that,” is more important than things. We have received grace upon grace. Let us go and share that abundance of grace with everyone we meet. Because we will never run out. There is no end to it. If you’re feeling less graceful, then come spend some more time with the one who is redeeming grace personified. Let us offer grace upon grace to a world who has forgotten what grace is.

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[1] John 1:5

[2] Genesis 1:1-2

[3] Genesis 1:3-5

[4] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amazing_Grace

[5] John 1:14

[6] John 1:17

[7] Rev. Jeremy Troxler, published 30 Nov 2018, https://www.facebook.com/notes/jeremy-troxler/the-law-breaker/10161288741580717/

Remembering Mr. Al

Service of Death & Resurrection

Al “Pop” Fredericksen

December 11, 2018, 11 a.m.

Psalm 91; Matthew 25:31-40

            Being on the ball, like he usually was, Mr. Al even planned many of the details of this service today. He picked the hymns we’re singing. It was important to him to have military funeral honors. And the last time I saw him, he asked me to officiate at the service. It was the first time I’ve been asked by the person and not by their family. But that’s how Mr. Al was. He took care of what God entrusted to his care. He took care of Ms. Shirley and his family. He took care of our church, serving this past year as our head trustee. And he always had a minute to spare to help anyone who needed help. I heard stories about Mr. Al helping out the customers on his mail route and the friends he bowled with and he LOVED helping at the Howard County Fair every August. You wouldn’t see him for two weeks, but you knew where he was. He kept moving, kept busy, not to keep busy; he kept moving because he kept serving, just as Jesus calls us to do.

            Matthew 25 is what came to mind when thinking about scripture for Mr. Al. First is the parable about the servants who have been entrusted with talents, or bags of gold, to take care of while their master is away. Two of the servants go to work and double the master’s money. When the master returns he tells them, “Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and enter into my rest.” Likewise, Mr. Al was faithful with what Jesus entrusted to him. He worried about everyone else until the day he died, asking me even when he was in the hospital about things at church and with the parsonage and trying to take care of things and wrap things up. He was faithful, and has now entered into his Lord’s rest.

            Jesus follows this parable of the servants and bags of gold with the passage we read this morning about the shepherd separating the sheep and the goats. “The King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ And the people look askance at him, because to them, it was no big deal to do these things, they’re not even completely sure they did them. The King replies, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” I would venture a guess that there is no one here this morning who was not helped in some way by Mr. Al. He would do anything for anyone.

            Now, if he was helping you out of a scrape of your own making, he would tease you or otherwise make sure you knew you needed to accept responsibility for it. I had a problem with the garbage disposal at the parsonage last summer that I tried to fix on my own and ended up calling him about. He came out, and with my mom’s help, fished out a corn-on-the-cob holder that had gotten stuck in there, that I hadn’t found on my own. At the next Administrative Board meeting, during his trustees’ report, he had me tell the story of what happened. It felt a little bit like getting in trouble at Grandpa’s house and then having to tell my parents about it!

            Mr. Al loved Jesus, he loved his family, and he served everyone. And because of that attitude of love and service, people loved him. He looked for the good, and people appreciated that. He was personal, chatting up about anything and anyone, easy-going. Ms. Shirley told me that when he got upset with her, he’d go out and chop wood. And then Gary told me that when they had too much wood, they’d give it away! Even when upset, he figured out a way to use that energy for something good.

            But y’all don’t need me to tell you about Mr. Al. Most of you knew him better and longer than I did, and that’s what makes the past month so hard. It was sudden and unexpected for him to go from climbing ladders and blowing leaves off the driveway to going home to Jesus. We didn’t realize Jesus was going to call him home already. And yet with the psalmist we are confident that “Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” We can also “say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.’ Surely [the Lord] will save you… He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day… A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you.” What a beautiful psalm of comfort and reassurance. It’s a reminder that God is there with you, too, no matter what’s going on. You are not alone. The Lord is with you.

            “Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call on me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. With long life I will satisfy him and show him my salvation.” The Lord did it for Mr. Al. And  he will do it for you, too.

Glories Stream (JOY)

2^nd Sunday of Advent

December 9, 2018

Psalm 86:9-11; Luke 2:8-20

(Or watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y1pySWZyWGA )

            There was a daily comic strip that ran from 1981 to 2007 called “Kudzu.” It was about the Rev. Will B. Dunn and the folks in his town. It was a pretty southern comic strip; did it make it in the papers up here? There was one strip that I remember quite well. The first panel showed the good Reverend on his knees, praying, “God, send me a sign!”  The second panel shows Rev. Dunn, still on his knees, next to a large flashing neon sign with the word “sign” on it.  God answered his prayer; God sent him a sign. It may not necessarily have been a helpful sign or what Rev. Dunn was looking for, but God did what he asked. God gave him a large, bright sign that you couldn’t miss.

            We don’t know if the shepherds were looking for a sign that night in the fields outside Bethlehem or not. We do know that they got a large, bright sign that couldn’t be missed. An angel stood before them and the glory of the Lord shone around them. It must have been bright! I imagine the shepherds squinting as their eyes adjust from the dark of the night to the brightness of the Lord’s glory. One minute it’s business as usual, and the next minute, bam! Big, bright, flashing neon sign from God. While Rev. Dunn’s sign simply said, “sign,” this sign says much more as the angel has instructions for the shepherds.

This is the third time in Luke that an angel has appeared. The angel Gabriel comes to Zechariah to tell him he and his wife are about to have a son in their old age, the son who will become known as John the Baptist. Then the angel Gabriel goes to Mary, to tell her she’s also going to have a baby boy whom she’s to name Jesus. Luke says Zechariah is “startled and gripped with fear,”[1] and Mary is troubled and perplexed.[2] What’s different with the shepherds was that this time it’s not just an angel appearing; it’s an angel plus the glory of the Lord shining all around them. The shepherds aren’t just startled or perplexed, they are terrified. Their response is sheer terror.

            In all three cases, the first thing the angel has to address is fear. Zechariah, Mary, and the shepherds are all told, “Do not be afraid.” It’s one of the more common phrases in the Bible. God’s people are told this over and over. Fear not. Don’t be scared. It’s like reassuring children after bad dreams. The appearance of the angel and the sudden brightness of the Lord’s glory has the shepherds scared to pieces. It isn’t just unexpected. It isn’t just startling. It isn’t just perplexing. The shepherds are the hired hands, working the night shift, guarding someone else’s sheep, in someone else’s fields. They don’t want anything to go wrong. They don’t want any trouble. They don’t want anything out of the ordinary. But God has other plans for them. God wants these lowly hired hands to be the first ones to hear the good news of the birth of their savior. Yet to get them to listen, to get them to pay attention, the angel has to address their fear first.

            Did you know that when you are frightened, the intelligent parts of your brain stop working?[3] In other words, when you’re scared, you’re dumber. Your logical thought process is replaced by overwhelming emotions, and rather than taking the time to think things through, you either react quickly, the fight-or-flight instinct, or you freeze, like a deer in the headlights. You stick with short-term solutions and don’t even think about long-term repercussions. We are not at our best when we’re frightened. We don’t think logically when we’re overwhelmed, and we enjoy life a lot less. We stop seeing the good that is all around us.

            The angel’s first task is to get the shepherds ready to listen. Calm down. It’s okay. You’re safe. You aren’t alone. The sheep are safe. I’m not here to steal them. Take some deep breaths. Get your heart rate back down, come down off the ceiling, or out from behind a rock. You don’t need to be overwhelmed. You don’t need to be terrified. I’ve got BIG NEWS. I’ve got GOOD NEWS. Are you ready to hear it? This is wonderful news for all people. Your savior is born today in David’s city. He is Christ the Lord. The Messiah. Your savior. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger. The first sign leads to another sign, neither of which the shepherds were looking for in the first place!

            How often do we look for signs when we’re not sure what to do? God, if the phone rings, then I’ll do this. God, if I don’t make it to the next round in this computer game, then I’ll do that. In Psalm 86, the psalmist prays, “Teach me your way, Lord, that I may rely on your faithfulness; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name.” God’s way is not always obvious and so it requires teaching in order to know it. God’s way is not obvious to the shepherds, they need telling what to do next and how to know if they get it right. And this isn’t a “teach me because I’m curious,” but a “teach me so that I may actually live it out and do it and follow it.” Our hearts are often divided and thus we’re unable to walk in God’s way. The fear that’s holding our brain hostage has to go. The overwhelming emotions have to subside. They have to go so that we can hear God’s voice, and not the voice of fear. They have to go so that we can live the life God is calling us to live, a life of peace and love and hope and gentleness. There is already enough hate out there; we don’t need to contribute to it. We can be people of peace. We can be people of joy.

            What good news am I missing? What don’t I see all around me that’s worthy of joy, because I’m distracted, or fearful, or jumpy? When I calm down my overwhelming feelings, when I let the intelligent, logical part of my brain take control again, what do I see and hear? What’s the good news? What’s right in front of me that will make me smile, if only I notice it?

            After the angel relieves the shepherds’ fears and gives them the good news and the next sign, a whole host of angels appears and praise God saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace and goodwill among people.” This apparently does not freak out the shepherds; by now they’ve learned to go with the flow and they know God is up to something. So once all the angels leave, the shepherds decide to go to Bethlehem and see if it’s true. Now, a couple things are interesting. One is that they leave the flock. Those sheep they were in charge of, who didn’t belong to them, who was their job to keep safe through the night? They leave ’em. They’re not worried about the sheep anymore. And the shepherds don’t leisurely make their way over to Bethlehem; no, they hurry. They have been told great news, if it’s true, and they want to go find out now. There’s a sense of urgency to see if their savior really has been born, if there really is a cause for great joy for all people. Wouldn’t you want to know? Is this really true? Is my savior really here? And they discover the answer is yes. Exactly what the angel told them is exactly what they find.

            Nowadays grades and news are posted online and you can find out in the isolation of your own room. Back in the day they used to post those things on community bulletin boards – here’s who got the top grades, here’s who got the internships, here’s who won the scholarship – and everyone crowded around to read the names, those whose names might be on the list more excited and nervous than the rest. The shepherds aren’t each apart in their rooms on their own computers finding out the answer is yes, they’re there in a place with other people around them. And so when they shout out “Yes!” or “It is true!” or “There really is a baby here!” or “The angel was right!” or “This is the sign!”, others overhear them and Luke says that all who hear the shepherds are amazed at what they say.  There’s been an angel sighting. More than that, there are shepherds who witnessed the glory of the Lord, the dazzling brilliance of God’s presence and power. The angel gave a sign and it came true exactly as promised. It is amazing.

            And the shepherds return to their flocks. They go back to where they started; only they are not the same. They are now glorifying and praising God for all they have heard and seen. Life goes back to normal, kinda. They’re still working the night shift, still caring for someone else’s sheep in someone else’s field. But now they know their Savior has been born. Now they know the “good news of great joy.” They have heard it, they have seen it, they have lived it. God came to them, out alone in the fields during the graveyard shift. They were terrified. But now they are joyous. They are not alone. They are not forgotten. God didn’t go tell the bigwigs first. God didn’t shine his glory on the landowners. God’s glory shone on these shepherds. And once they were willing to overcome their fear, once you scraped them from off the ceiling of their terror, once they heard the angel’s message and followed the sign, they were never the same.

            The shepherds weren’t out looking for a sign that night, but they sure got one. If you ask God for a sign, you may get one, although it may or may not be as helpful as you’d like, as Rev. Dunn discovered. If God sends you a sign that you weren’t expecting, however, it might just change the world. Keep your eyes open this Advent season. Pay attention to the beauty and joy all around you. Drive around and look at Christmas lights. If you’re not one that needs to find joy right now, help others find it. Be the joy others need to hear and see and feel.

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[1] Luke 1:12

[2] Luke 1:29

[3] https://www.learning-mind.com/impact-of-fear-on-the-human-brain/

Heavenly Peace

1^st Sunday of Advent

December 2, 2018

Isaiah 2:1-4; 9:2, 6-7

(Or watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TptRqsvGZHo )

            I don’t know about you, but my week felt full of things outside of my control. A loved one called with the news that they have to change how they treat their chronic disease. A member from my first congregation that I served was deported back to Mexico. Mr. Al, as we know, is getting closer and closer to seeing Jesus face to face. A kid on the school bus said something mean to my daughter that she won’t talk about. My anxiety has been higher this week and I have felt helpless in each of these situations that pull on the heart strings. The truth is that I haven’t actually been helpless. I’ve prayed and I’ve listened and I’ve cried and I’ve waited and I’ve journaled and I’ve said, “I love you.” I’ve done what I can, the best I can. Yet I could not control the outcome of any of these situations. All I could do was listen and pray and hug and hope. And at least once this week, with each of these things, I felt anxious. I know I’m supposed to be a calm presence as your pastor, but I will confess that I am not always inwardly calm. I do my best to work out my anxiety on my own so that I can be calm around you. But if you’d found me at certain moments this past week, you would have found me in tears.

            And then this morning’s theme is peace. That tends to be how God works. A few years ago when I was getting ready to preach on Naaman and his leprosy, I got my own skin rash, poison ivy. The week I’m supposed to preach on peace, I was not inwardly at peace. We decided last summer to use this Advent worship series commemorating the 200^th anniversary of “Silent Night.” The song first debuted on Christmas Eve of 1818 in Austria, although Joseph Mohr had actually written the words two years earlier. Before Christmas Eve 1818, Joseph Mohr, a priest, took the words to Franz Gruber, a schoolmaster and organist in a neighboring town, and asked him to compose an accompaniment so that they could use it for Christmas Eve mass. Churches around the world sing this song at Christmastime, lighting candles, and somehow making a sanctuary full of people feel like a close-knit family, somehow transforming whatever else is going on into a time of peace. “All is calm, all is bright.” 

            You heard me mention at the beginning of the service about the Christmas Truce of World War I. Soldiers on the Western Front held a ceasefire for the holiday. And in the quiet, in the silence, in the calm, they could hear each other singing “Silent Night, Holy Night.” Recognizing from the melody that they were each singing the same Christmas carol in their native languages, they came out and met on the battlefield, not with weapons but with soccer balls and small gifts to give each other. Soldiers from opposite sides in the war came out and did this. Talk about a Christmas miracle, facilitated by this hymn! Talk about a time of truly “heavenly peace,” when God managed to bring about a peace that the soldiers could not.

            Each week we’re going to focus on a different verse. This being the first week of Advent, we’re looking at the first verse. First verses are often more well-known than the rest, in just about any hymn. And the theme for this morning is peace, as the verse ends by saying twice, “Sleep in heavenly peace.” Heavenly peace is different than earthly peace. When Jesus tries to prepare his disciples for his leaving and the coming of the Holy Spirit, an event around which the disciples have a lot of anxiety and zero control, one of the things Jesus tells them is “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.”[1] Jesus gives them his peace. Jesus’ peace is different. Jesus’ peace isn’t defined by what’s lacking. It’s not the absence of conflict. Jesus’ peace is known for what it is, by itself, regardless of what’s going on. Jesus’ peace is calmness, quietness, and tranquility. And that can happen even in the midst of conflict, even in the middle of a storm, even in the middle of events going on around you that are outside your control. Jesus’ peace isn’t a lack of something; it is something in its own right, all by itself.

            When Jesus gives his peace to his disciples, they are not at peace. They’re really worried about where Jesus is going. They’ve left everything to follow him, and now he says he’s leaving them?? Sure, Jesus says he’s going to prepare a place for them, and he’s going to send the Holy Spirit, but they want Jesus here and now, in the flesh. This is the King they’ve risked all to serve. Jesus says he’s not going to leave them orphans. He’s going to send the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, the Comforter. And Jesus gives them his peace.

            Perhaps the most well-known description of Jesus’ peace is what Paul writes to the Philippians. Among other instructions, Paul tells them, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”[2] God’s peace is beyond our understanding. And we’ve seen people like this, people who are calm even in the midst of the storm going on in their lives. They say, “Yes, this is all going on. Yes, it is painful. Yes, it’s requiring a lot of change. But, my faith isn’t in the storm or the wind or the waves. My faith is in the God who created them. My faith is in the one who made the heavens and the earth. And I will not be shaken. Yes, there is injustice and pain and suffering and the world is not as it should be. That’s why I choose to join God in the work of redeeming the world, and I can’t do that well if I’m freaking out. I cannot enter this next season of my life well if I’m looking at the wind. It’s easy to look at the water and pay attention to the feel of the wind on your face. I love it on a good day. But in a storm I need to pay attention to the feel of Jesus holding me safe, the feel of his arms around me, the feel of the cup of his hand on my cheek. Jesus is my rock and I will not be moved.” That’s the peace that passes understanding. That’s the peace that Jesus offers. That’s the peace we so often feel when we sing “Silent Night” and hold our candles on Christmas Eve. God’s got this. I’m not in control. My choice isn’t whether or not to control a given situation; my choice is whether or not to join God in the work of redeeming the situation. And there’s peace in that.

            Jesus’ peace is different than the peace that others offer. Others offer a ceasefire; Jesus offers a chance to build a bridge and literally get to know the person you were shooting at yesterday. Jesus’ peace isn’t about just putting down weapons and hurtful words; his peace is about transformation. Look again at what we read from Isaiah 2. “Many peoples will come and say, ‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the temple of the God of Jacob. He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths.’ The law will go out from Zion, the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He will judge between the nations and will settle disputes for many peoples. They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks.”[3] The swords and the spears, these instruments of destruction, don’t get destroyed. The weapons don’t simply get laid down, or put away, either. They get changed. They are transformed. Weapons of killing and destruction are not killed and destroyed. They’re changed from instruments of death into instruments of life. They become plowshares, the main cutting blade of a plow, and pruning hooks, both things that are necessary for new life. Swords and spears become items that are used for growth and cultivation and life. God redeems them and uses them for good. Rather than their original purpose of cutting down, God uses them for building up. Jesus’ peace isn’t just refraining from saying harsh words and putting away harmful things; it’s changing them into kind words and helpful things.

So, how can we transform our chaos and anxiety and divisions into calm and peace and bridges? How do get there, even before we sing “Silent Night” on Christmas Eve? More importantly, how can we do that all year long? Comfort items, like a baby blanket, can be helpful. Be at least a little wary of comfort food, because it tends to be full of carbs and sugar, but I get it, if that’s your thing. I shared with some of you, the night after I got home from visiting Al when he received the news about the terminal cancer, I baked brownies. That wasn’t just for the carbs and the chocolate, though; baking is a stress reliever for me. Know what your stress relievers are, and do them, especially the healthy ones. Also know that relieving stress is different than escapism. Alcohol is an easy example. One drink to take the edge off is different than drinking to the point of blacking out. And for an alcoholic, one drink is one drink too many, period. Know your limits, know your triggers. And more important than all this, know Jesus and accept the peace he offers you. It’s peace that might bring you out of your foxhole to go meet with the person in the foxhole on the other side. It’s peace that might just say, come, rest in me, and you take every opportunity you have to come to church and join in the community.

Where I found it this past week was on Thursday. Being commissioned, but not fully ordained, I’m required to go to monthly all day meetings for a program called “Residency in Ministry.” The morning session is ideally on something helpful, like leading a congregation through change, or better understanding the ordination process. The afternoon session we break into small groups with a leader who’s another pastor in the Conference and what’s shared is confidential. My small group works well together, and we begin the afternoon by each checking in. I went last this past week, and putting into words all that I had been feeling during the week, the reasons for the anxiety, and then sharing all that in a safe space, naming it out loud, was really helpful. Another thing that’s helped is an Advent song that is about waiting for Jesus, and not anticipatory, excited waiting, but a waiting that is longing. Waiting that has some lament to it. I may share the song at the Longest Night service.

            This Advent season, as we prepare for a baby who is born a King, as we get ready for Jesus to be born anew, I invite you to spend more intentional time with the one who is called the Prince of Peace. In Isaiah 9, we read that “Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end.” One more way Jesus’ peace is different. There is endless peace in his kingdom. It’s not going to run out. It’s not a temporary truce or time out. It’s a permanent way of being in the world. Be at peace. With yourself, with others, with the world around you. It doesn’t mean you agree with everyone or condone what’s going on. It means you know it’s beyond your control but it’s not beyond God’s. Pray for God to change the world. Pray for God to overcome the divisions and the hatred and the name-calling. And then do you part in helping God to redeem the world. When faced with the choice of acting in love or in spite, choose love. And ask God for the strength to love when you’re not sure you can, because you’ve found yourself face-to-face with the soldier in the foxhole from the enemy side. Heavenly peace is not the same as earthly peace. Thank heaven!

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[1] John 14:27, emphasis mine

[2] Philippians 4:6-7

[3] Isaiah 2:3-4