Seeking Peace (Advent Post Two)

For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called 
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
-Isaiah 9:6

 The first Bible verse I ever memorized was Matthew 6:34. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

My little twelve-year-old heart, still reeling from the fact that Jesus loved me and desperately trying, in her own perfectionist way, to incorporate that love into her life, clung to this verse. Do not worry, the verse says. So simple.

Except... When it's not.

I have struggled with anxiety for years. Panic attacks. Hyperventilation. Sobbing myself to sleep over things that are really not important. Stressing for days over events that were in the past, or events that never happened. Over time, it's become much more manageable. As I've grown more into who God made me to be and placed my identity in Christ over my own attempts at perfectionism, I've loosened up a bit. At the very least, I've taught myself to loosen up. Questions like, "Will this really matter 1000 years from now," "How will this moment impact God's kingdom," and the realization that what's done is done help calm me down and focus on what is important.

Except... When they don't.

Sometimes there are still nights like tonight -- where it's two in the morning and I'm at work until four with an exam the next day for which I still haven't studied. Try as I may to understand transportation scheduling for my operations management class (try as I may to understand when I will ever, ever need this), my head is just stuffed, stuffed, stuffed with so many other things. Worries about the future. Questions over an assignment I've already turned in. Hesitations about stepping forward in some relationships. Convictions to step forward in others. Decisions about what to do tomorrow, next week, next month, next year. Apprehensions about spending so much time blogging when instead I should be buried in Excel files.

It's times like these that I've learned to pray for peace.

The Bible often refers to the Messiah as the "Prince of Peace." That title has never really made an impact on me before. Sure, I've spouted it out in Christmas pageants. Yes, I've marveled over its perfect alliteration. This advent, though, the realization that Jesus is the Prince of Peace has sunk deep into my core.

I need that peace, and I know I can't get it on my own.

I am so very thankful that baby boy God sent into this world was the Prince of Peace. I'm sure his birth was anything but peaceful. Born away from home, to a family who probably encountered less than peaceful opinions about his birth (what with the whole unmarried Mary part), in a land where violence shattered attempts at peaceful living, here was this unassuming boy who would eventually bring peace for all the nations. Here was this man that would grow up to utter, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest;" that would call out to his people, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." God didn't have to send him. But he did. God didn't have to give us that gift -- but he did. 

Tonight in this period of Advent, I am so thankful for the peace my prince continues to pour into my heart. I want more of it, though -- more for myself, and more for the world. My prayer is for the Prince of Peace to reign over my sisters and brothers in Burma. In Sudan. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo. In Syria. In Ferguson. In Bozeman. In Wenatchee. In you. In me.

Oh Jesus, would your peace be evident in our world today. Would we feel it regardless of circumstance and rejoice in it regardless of situation. Let us rest in you. Do not let our hearts be troubled. Do not let us be afraid.

Shalom, my friends. Amen.

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