Peace when there is no peace

by Mathew Block

“They have healed the wound of my people lightly, saying ‘Peace, peace,’ when there is no peace…” Jeremiah 6:14, 8:11

These words, uttered by God in the leadup to the destruction of Jerusalem and the beginning of the Babylonian Captivity, are spoken as a rebuke to false priests and prophets. God had declared, through Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and others, that disaster was coming as a result of the people’s sin. But instead of heeding this warning, instead of calling for repentance, the authorities rejected the message. “Be at peace,” they told the people. “All is well.”

In reality, there was no peace to be had. The rulers of the land were leading their people dangerously astray (Ezekiel 13:10). The nation had a deep, festering wound which needed immediate medical attention; instead, the leaders slapped a bandage on it and called it good. Meanwhile, the gangrene was setting in—with fatal consequences.

There is something deeply distasteful about proclaiming peace when there is no peace. And yet the world sometimes accuses the Church of doing the same thing, albeit in a different context. This life is full of suffering. Millions of children across the globe are underfed and malnourished. Totalitarian states brutally oppress their citizens. Illness strikes without rhyme or reason. Terrorist organizations slaughter the innocent. Natural disasters sweep away the little that poor people once had.

There is something deeply distasteful about proclaiming peace when there is no peace. And yet the world sometimes accuses the Church of doing the same thing, albeit in a different context.

In response to this suffering, the Church comes and offers Jesus, saying that in Him all people will find peace. But hang on: isn’t this just what the priests were doing in Jeremiah’s day? Weren’t they papering over real problems, promising a peace that wasn’t there?

To be fair, sometimes we as Christians can be guilty of this—offering words alone when action is needed (James 2:15). Faced with grief or sorrow, we rush to solve the problem with our words. “God moves in mysterious ways.” “He’s in a better place now.” “This too shall pass.” “God’s got it under control.”  These answers are all true; and yet our delivery of them can become a little too pat. A little too trite. We fail to enter into the grief of others, acting as if a few words should make everything better.

This isn’t the peace that Jesus offers. He doesn’t pretend that faith in Him will free us from suffering; instead, He promises to be with us in the midst of suffering. That’s the difference between a false peace—that is condemned in the Book of Jeremiah—and the peace which Christ gives.

This isn’t the peace that Jesus offers. He doesn’t pretend that faith in Him will free us from suffering; instead, He promises to be with us in the midst of suffering. That’s the difference between a false peace—that is condemned in the Book of Jeremiah—and the peace which Christ gives. He acknowledges the reality of suffering, and yet promises to be with us in it, granting us the peace of His presence—a peace which passes all human understanding (Philippians 4:7).

“Peace I leave with you,” Jesus says to us. “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). We indeed face many sorrows in this world. But we need not be afraid. God is with us in the midst of these sorrows. He sends His Holy Spirit to be with us, to comfort us. He bears us up in His arms. And it is this promise which gives us peace in a world where otherwise we should find none.

In this issue we contemplate some of the challenges of life which threaten to rob us of peace. Rev. Dr. Richard Beinert explores the relationship between suffering and faith. Rev. Michael Keith helps us chart a path through the journey that grief entails. And our third feature invites us to remember the persecuted Church around the world in prayer—a theme expanded upon also in President Timothy Teuscher’s column this issue.

In the face of suffering like this, it can be easy to feel hopeless. But even in these things, our Lord has promised us His peace—a peace which does not deliver us from sorrows in this life but sustains us in the midst of them.

For our Jesus also knows what it is to suffer. He knows what it is to grieve the death of a loved one. He knows what it is to be persecuted and put to death without cause. But just as God raised Him from the dead, He will raise us also. At length, He will gather us to Himself, and there we shall grieve and suffer no more. For there, in the presence of the Prince of Peace, we shall know true peace at last.

“Now may the Lord of peace Himself give you peace at all times in every way. The Lord be with you all.” – 2 Thessalonians 3:16

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Mathew Block is editor of The Canadian Lutheran and the Communications Manager of the International Lutheran Council (ILC).

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