What Does it Mean to Pass the Peace of Christ?
Sermon text for June 6, 2010:
John 20
Preached at Thornton Presbyterian Church, Thornton, Colorado
“Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can never hurt you.” I believe I first heard these words from my mother when I was a very small boy and even though my mother was completely trustworthy, I knew that in this case what she said was not true. I knew that words could hurt. I don’t remember, but my mom probably told me that “Sticks and stones could break my bones, but words could never hurt me” when my face was burning and my stomach churning because of something someone said to me. Words have the power to hurt and destroy and also to build us up and give us a sense of well-being. I think that a truer form of the saying should go something like this, “Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can hurt you, too.”
My best guess is that each of us grew up hearing this saying, and most of us have said it to a child, even though we knew it was not true. And so the saying is transmitted from one generation to the next generation.
Words have power. They shape our understanding of the world and of ourselves. A young girl is told that she is fat and spends the rest of her life trying to become thin. On the other side of the equation, lovers say “I love you” for the very first time and suddenly they feel like they can do anything! They are unstoppable. For better or for worse, words have power over us.
Jesus may be the greatest wordsmith of all time and he definitely understood the power of a word. When he speaks, lives change. His words are like a gift all wrapped with a bow. And his word defines how we think and what we do.
Jesus said, “My peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” (John 14:27) A few days later on Easter the fearful disciples were huddled together when Jesus appeared before them and said, “Peace be with you". And then as he was about to send them out into the world with the gospel message he said again, “Peace be with you.”
The disciples were rightly afraid. Their life expectancy was low and yet Jesus said, “Peace be with you”. “Peace be with you.” And then He sent them into the world saying, “As the Father has sent me, so do I send you.” The rest is history.
I do not believe that the disciples could have moved the world with the story of Jesus without first receiving the powerful word of peace. With the peace of Christ, the disciples experienced what the Hebrews called “shalom”, a profound sense of well-being; the promise that no matter what the future brought they would be okay. Shalom, peace, is the inner sense of harmony, equilibrium and balance. The disciples were still anxious, but the reality of peace was stronger than the annoyance of anxiety.
And something wonderful and unanticipated happened when the disciples shared the gospel: those who believed the story were also given the gift of peace. And the chain of peace is unbroken from the days of the disciples, all the way down to us. It is the gift of peace – the internal sense of well being that allowed countless people to face persecution and endure crippling personal tragedy. “Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. Peace be with you, my peace I give to you, not as the world gives do I give to you. Peace, my friend. Receive my peace.”
I believe that the gift of peace is a part each of us, though the gift might be terribly obscured. As Christ lives within us, we hear him say, “Peace be with you.” The problem is that many of us have never been taught that peace is a part of our Christian DNA, so the gift may go largely unnoticed and unused. And part of our job is to allow God to recreate us so that peace is part of everything we do.
The story is told of an old man who was a skilled sculptor who liked to work with wood. One day he found a gnarly piece of wood in the wood pile near the back door. It was chipped and weather beaten. When he brought it into the house, his wife just rolled her eyes. “Here he goes again”, she thought. He was always saving a piece of wood that she wanted to use to warm the house. But after so many years she knew that she faced a losing battle. Besides she loved to see her husband’s creations. The old sculptor took the log into his workshop and started to work. First he ran his hands over the surface of the log until he found an image inside that no one else could see. His fingers – scratched, scarred, and gnarly like the log – sensed the image hidden inside. Using only his old pocket knife (the one his father gave him when he was a boy), he slowly began to cut into the wood. And bit by bit the invisible image began to emerge.
Before too many hours passed the gnarly log was transformed into a beautiful figure. The artist was pleased with what he had done and called his efforts good.
Most of us are somewhat gnarly and weather beaten. But hidden deep within is the very image of Christ himself who speaks to us saying “Peace be with you.” Shalom, my brother. Shalom, my sister. “My peace I give to you.” And since the beginning of Christianity, faithful followers of Jesus have greeted one another in worship saying, “The peace of Christ be with you.”
Some people do not realize that the passing of the peace is giving the substance of Christ who dwells within us to the neighbor and friend sitting in the pew. For them the passing of the peace is a friendly, “Hi, how are you?” But generations of Christians have believed that the Christ who dwells within us reaches for the Christ who dwells within the others.
Some years ago I was in Nicaragua and I worshipped in a Catholic Church with families of many men who had died in the U.S. financed Contra war. As the worship began I felt very uncomfortable and very self-conscious. Then came the “Passing of the Peace” and suddenly I found myself surrounded by mothers, and sisters and brides of men and boys who had died in the CIA-financed insurrection. But there was no accusation, only words of love: “God bless you; the peace of Christ be with you.” I knew that I had received something real. “The peace of Christ be with you, also” I said in return.
So, passing of the peace is giving and receiving something real, a sentiment with substance. My friends, may the peace of Christ be with you.
Copyright © 2010 by Dwight R. Blackstock
John 20
Preached at Thornton Presbyterian Church, Thornton, Colorado
“Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can never hurt you.” I believe I first heard these words from my mother when I was a very small boy and even though my mother was completely trustworthy, I knew that in this case what she said was not true. I knew that words could hurt. I don’t remember, but my mom probably told me that “Sticks and stones could break my bones, but words could never hurt me” when my face was burning and my stomach churning because of something someone said to me. Words have the power to hurt and destroy and also to build us up and give us a sense of well-being. I think that a truer form of the saying should go something like this, “Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can hurt you, too.”
My best guess is that each of us grew up hearing this saying, and most of us have said it to a child, even though we knew it was not true. And so the saying is transmitted from one generation to the next generation.
Words have power. They shape our understanding of the world and of ourselves. A young girl is told that she is fat and spends the rest of her life trying to become thin. On the other side of the equation, lovers say “I love you” for the very first time and suddenly they feel like they can do anything! They are unstoppable. For better or for worse, words have power over us.
Jesus may be the greatest wordsmith of all time and he definitely understood the power of a word. When he speaks, lives change. His words are like a gift all wrapped with a bow. And his word defines how we think and what we do.
Jesus said, “My peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” (John 14:27) A few days later on Easter the fearful disciples were huddled together when Jesus appeared before them and said, “Peace be with you". And then as he was about to send them out into the world with the gospel message he said again, “Peace be with you.”
The disciples were rightly afraid. Their life expectancy was low and yet Jesus said, “Peace be with you”. “Peace be with you.” And then He sent them into the world saying, “As the Father has sent me, so do I send you.” The rest is history.
I do not believe that the disciples could have moved the world with the story of Jesus without first receiving the powerful word of peace. With the peace of Christ, the disciples experienced what the Hebrews called “shalom”, a profound sense of well-being; the promise that no matter what the future brought they would be okay. Shalom, peace, is the inner sense of harmony, equilibrium and balance. The disciples were still anxious, but the reality of peace was stronger than the annoyance of anxiety.
And something wonderful and unanticipated happened when the disciples shared the gospel: those who believed the story were also given the gift of peace. And the chain of peace is unbroken from the days of the disciples, all the way down to us. It is the gift of peace – the internal sense of well being that allowed countless people to face persecution and endure crippling personal tragedy. “Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. Peace be with you, my peace I give to you, not as the world gives do I give to you. Peace, my friend. Receive my peace.”
I believe that the gift of peace is a part each of us, though the gift might be terribly obscured. As Christ lives within us, we hear him say, “Peace be with you.” The problem is that many of us have never been taught that peace is a part of our Christian DNA, so the gift may go largely unnoticed and unused. And part of our job is to allow God to recreate us so that peace is part of everything we do.
The story is told of an old man who was a skilled sculptor who liked to work with wood. One day he found a gnarly piece of wood in the wood pile near the back door. It was chipped and weather beaten. When he brought it into the house, his wife just rolled her eyes. “Here he goes again”, she thought. He was always saving a piece of wood that she wanted to use to warm the house. But after so many years she knew that she faced a losing battle. Besides she loved to see her husband’s creations. The old sculptor took the log into his workshop and started to work. First he ran his hands over the surface of the log until he found an image inside that no one else could see. His fingers – scratched, scarred, and gnarly like the log – sensed the image hidden inside. Using only his old pocket knife (the one his father gave him when he was a boy), he slowly began to cut into the wood. And bit by bit the invisible image began to emerge.
Before too many hours passed the gnarly log was transformed into a beautiful figure. The artist was pleased with what he had done and called his efforts good.
Most of us are somewhat gnarly and weather beaten. But hidden deep within is the very image of Christ himself who speaks to us saying “Peace be with you.” Shalom, my brother. Shalom, my sister. “My peace I give to you.” And since the beginning of Christianity, faithful followers of Jesus have greeted one another in worship saying, “The peace of Christ be with you.”
Some people do not realize that the passing of the peace is giving the substance of Christ who dwells within us to the neighbor and friend sitting in the pew. For them the passing of the peace is a friendly, “Hi, how are you?” But generations of Christians have believed that the Christ who dwells within us reaches for the Christ who dwells within the others.
Some years ago I was in Nicaragua and I worshipped in a Catholic Church with families of many men who had died in the U.S. financed Contra war. As the worship began I felt very uncomfortable and very self-conscious. Then came the “Passing of the Peace” and suddenly I found myself surrounded by mothers, and sisters and brides of men and boys who had died in the CIA-financed insurrection. But there was no accusation, only words of love: “God bless you; the peace of Christ be with you.” I knew that I had received something real. “The peace of Christ be with you, also” I said in return.
So, passing of the peace is giving and receiving something real, a sentiment with substance. My friends, may the peace of Christ be with you.
Copyright © 2010 by Dwight R. Blackstock
posted by Dwight Blackstock | 8:19 AM
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