Emmanuel: Peace With Us
Philippians 4:4-7
December 23, 2001
St. John United Methodist Church
David Beckett, D.Min.

Today is the fourth part of our Emmanuel series. First was HOPE, then LOVE. Last Sunday was JOY and today is PEACE. Do you think it is possible to experience peace and stress at the same time?

Psychologist Thomas Holmes developed a Stress Scale and assigned numerical values to events that cause stress such as loss of job, moving to a new city, a new relationship. Christmas, Dr. Holmes decided, not a particularly difficult Christmas, simply living through December 25 in this culture, earns a hefty 14 stress points.

A writer by the name of Bridget Kuhns took Dr. Holmes' scale and applied it to Mary. Holmes calculated that any pregnancy earns 40 points: an unwanted pregnancy, add 20 more. A change in living conditions -- 25. (Mary stayed three months with Elizabeth). A marriage to Joseph: 50 points. A change in financial status: 38 points.

Surely there must have been words between them when she discovered that he had not made reservations at the inn: score 35 points for an argument with a spouse.

And then the birth -- 39 points: 16 for a change in sleeping habits; 15 for a change in eating habits. Not to mention all those uninvited guests: shepherds and angels coming and going and wise men from the East.

Holmes says that people get sick at 200 points. Ms. Kuhns calculates that Mary's ordeal earned her "stressed out" status at 424, a record.

Stress. Anxiety. Worry. Have you experienced any of these this Advent season? You don’t have to be the mother of Jesus to feel stress at Christmas. Where is the PEACE in our lives? Will it only come after December 25? And what kind of peace are we looking for? It needs to be said that there are two kinds of peace. For lack of a better term we’ll call them external peace and internal peace. It is possible to experience both at the same time. In fact many of us need peaceful surroundings in order to feel inner peace. But it is also possible to experience one without the other. We can be in a restful, quiet place but still be in turmoil in our hearts. And we can also be in a noisy, chaotic environment and still feel a peace deep in our soul.

In Paul’s letter to the Christians at Philippi he writes about inner peace. Basically, inner peace comes only after we become anxious in nothing, prayerful in everything, and thankful in anything. Let’s take a look at these three realities.

Frances Willard, the great temperance leader, once remarked with her usual forthrightness that "anxiety is atheistical!" To be constantly anxious suggests that somehow we don't quite trust. What does your 16-year-old say when he comes in 30 seconds before his curfew is up and finds you "waiting up" for him: "What's wrong, don't you trust me?"

What we don't trust, what makes us anxious -- over our teenager's social life, or our spouse's health, or our own career -- is when we feel we no longer have complete control over the situations we are facing. And no matter how many extra precautions we try to take or how well we think we have fortified our personal defenses against sneak attacks, deep down we still know that the movements of the universe are out of our control. Kids grow up; illnesses attack without warning; companies "down-scale" and lay workers off.

But if we let our anxieties over these uncontrollable factors in our lives rule us, we become incapable of becoming agents of God's grace in this world. How can we "rejoice" and witness the "joy of the Lord" to others if we are anxiety-ridden ourselves? If we can't trust God, then who can we trust? Be anxious in nothing because God is God: today, tomorrow and always.

A classic Dennis the Menace cartoon depicts an irate Margaret haughtily proclaiming to Dennis as he walks by, "I'm not speaking to you, Dennis Mitchell!" The next frame shows Dennis, his eyes rolled heavenward, breathing a heartfelt, "Thank you, God."

Prayer is primarily an attitude of the heart that says, "Thank you, God." We see a spectacular sunset with the alpenglow spraying the mountains with a gorgeous shade of pink. Doesn't such a scene move us to pray, "Thank you, God?" We are driving down the snow-packed road in the dark at 20 below, but safe and sound. Can we remember to say, "Thank you, God?" Our home is a wreck with kid's toys and things strewn all over. We are tempted to get angry at the chaos, but stop for a moment to appreciate children at this age and say, "Thank you, God."

Prayer is simply being attentive to God. Prayer happens when we put ourselves in the position to become aware of God. It happens in church. It happens when we get on our knees. But it also happens when we are in the shower, or preparing a meal, or talking with a co-worker. Prayerful in everything.

On the 39th day, how many of you think that Noah went up on the deck of the ark and thanked God for the fresh rain falling on his face? Being thankful in anything doesn't mean putting on a "Pollyanna" act and being all smiles, come what may. But being thankful in anything does mean believing that the guiding, guarding hand of God is constantly present. Once we have been born-again in Christ, none of us can ever be abandoned children -- the love of God through Christ remains steadfastly by our side no matter what we face.

Thankful IN everything. We don't have to thank God FOR everything. We are certainly not thankful FOR auto accidents, or acts of terror, or wars, or drug abuse. But thanking God IN all things will lead us on the path of inner peace. Our thankfulness is not a matter of "surface smiles." It is based in the confidence that whatever comes our way, our life is built on a foundation of power -- the resurrected Christ.

It is "in Christ," Paul insists, that we will finally experience this miraculous gift of the "peace of God." As long as we are in Christ, the peace of God will guard our hearts and guide our minds -- will pull all the pieces of our personhood together and unite them under the banner of God's peace.

Evelyn Underhill is one of the outstanding writers on mysticism of our era. She offers a parable of the spiritual journey. She writes that the spiritual journey is like the migration of English sparrows, each weighing about an ounce and a quarter, who twice each year take off into the unknown, committing themselves to the air and flying over the ocean where there are no landmarks to give them any guidance. And yet without any hesitation, every fall thousands of them take off, and in the spring thousands return undergoing the same hazards.

This migration, she claims, is a good example of what the spiritual journey is all about. We have no idea where we are going. There are all kinds of difficulties we cannot foresee. The birds commit themselves to the elements by way of blind trust in their instinct. The spiritual journey is basically a surrender in blind trust to our conviction that what we hope to find on the journey we either already have or will certainly find. But there is no guarantee that we will arrive safely on the basis of the evidence or our circumstances. We must let go and let the wind (the Holy Spirit) take us where we hope to go. There is no turning back once we have started because the sky is a big place, and we had better stay with the flock.

What are the other instincts you are surrendering to, instincts that may promise peace, but never seem to be fulfilled? Will food give you inner peace? Will a new relationship do it for you? What about the desire for sex? Do you feel that peace will come with more money, more power?

Long ago a man sought the perfect picture of peace. Not finding one that satisfied his desire, he announced a contest to produce this masterpiece. The challenge stirred the imagination of artists everywhere, and paintings arrived from far and wide. Finally the great day of revelation arrived. The judges uncovered one peaceful scene after another, while the viewers clapped and cheered.

The tensions grew. Only two pictures remained veiled. As a judge pulled the cover from one, a hush fell over the crowd. A mirror-smooth lake reflected lacy, green birches under the soft blush of the evening sky. Along the grassy shore, a flock of sheep grazed undisturbed. Surely this was the winner.

The man with the vision uncovered the second painting himself, and the crowd gasped in surprise. Could this be peace? A tumultuous waterfall cascaded down a rocky precipice; the crowd could almost feel its cold, penetrating spray. Stormy-gray clouds threatened to explode with lightning, wind and rain. In the midst of the thundering noises and bitter chill, a spindly tree clung to the rocks at the edge of the falls. One of its branches reached out in front of the torrential waters as if foolishly seeking to experience its full power.

A little bird had built a nest in the elbow of that branch. Content and undisturbed in her stormy surroundings, she rested on her eggs. With her eyes closed and her wings ready to cover her little ones, she manifested peace that transcends all earthly turmoil. 

This Christmas season may we allow the peace of God which surpasses all threats, all storms, all understanding show us the joy! Remember: ANXIOUS IN NOTHING; PRAYERFUL IN EVERYTHING; THANKFUL IN ANYTHING ... THEN ... THE PEACE.

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