The post read, “We’re looking for people of peace to join us in this project.”
People of peace? What does that mean? Would I qualify? Am I a person of peace? Why a person of peace? What difference could that make as long as I’m qualified? But that was the only qualification. I was captivated and determined to know what a person of peace was and why that was so important.
I read that post over 30 years ago when I was young and starting out in the world, looking for my first “real” job. I quickly lost interest in “people of peace” once I landed my first (three) jobs – what it took to pay for rent, food, transportation, etc. on my own. Every now and then the thought would cross my mind – people of peace. Ha! Are you kidding me? I’d like to see a person of peace survive around here!
The years passed. I got married. Like the words to an old favorite song, “people of peace” would float through my head. Were we, the two of us, people of peace? We were in love, but peace wasn’t really part of our routine – work, bills, parties, better house, better cars, bigger parties, bigger bills. Peace? Not so much.
Then we had our first child. “She has infantile spasms,” the doctor said. “Ninety percent of children with her condition die before they’re two,” he continued. “The children who survive are profoundly challenged, physically and mentally.” We sought second, third and fourth opinions. We tried medicines, surgeries, therapies. We encountered emotional, spiritual, social, financial and marital meltdown. We’d come to the end of ourselves.
And so, we let go and let Someone else have it all. We believed Him. We believed He loved our daughter more than we did and had the power to do what we could never do. We believed He knew what we needed and could provide it. We believed His Love would hold our little family together. We believed He could mend our broken hearts…and He did. We have become content with where we are, who we are, how we are and Whose we are. We have, at last, become people of peace.