Every time I say "peace on earth," it feels like an incomplete prayer. Incomplete, because I am immediately filled with an angst that compels me to do something: scream, write, make music, create something – anything, even if no one will ever encounter it. A part of me needs the universe to know that I am not merely uttering trite words perpetually stuck in my throat.
Around now, so many of the words and sayings that I hear and use feel jagged. How many times can I say "peace on earth" while there is no peace? How many times can I declare "love is all you need" while hate rages? Or sing, "all are welcome" while people are excluded? Hope, Peace, Joy, Love – if I am being honest, I am not too sure I actually know what these words mean. What does peace look like in December 2024?
Something I know with certainty is that I want peace on earth now, and that my longing comes from a place of security that is scarce. I can also trust in the peace of Christ that I have experienced in the creation of relationships, friendships, and communities (for me, most often through music). I may not know what peace is yet, and that is okay. It is an aspiration, a dream, that we work towards together. In Advent, I am grateful for this set-apart time to wrestle with what peace means, together.
| 
No comments:
Post a Comment