Prince of Peace

“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.”

Lately I have been struggling with being at peace, so the fact that Jesus is the Prince of Peace seems to mean a lot more to me this year. I feel this burden of worry and doubt; and I mean I really feel it, like in my shoulders. Life is changing big time for me. Graduation will be here in May, I move away from some of my best friends, full life responsibility begins to hit, and I am no longer a college student. None of it is anything anyone hasn’t done before, and I realize that. But it is daunting to know that I am sending my resume out with the understanding that in a few months I may be living on my own somewhere else. I have also been feeling this burden of regret and feeling bad about hurtful things I have said and broken relationships that aren’t mended yet. Then when I think about it being my last Christmas when I know I will be home and trying to squeeze in every little Christmassy thing I can; well, it’s just too much pressure!

This past weekend, the weekend before Christmas, I started throwing a freaking out party for myself, and giving into my ‘un-peaceful’ feelings, if you will. Everything seemed to be a crisis for me. I was getting mad because Jessie and I are going to have to share a suitcase for the trip to Florida and I am now going to have to return my leather gloves for a larger size…does it look like I have time to do that? Yeah…these things were actually really pissing me off. I didn’t feel at peace, and I felt like my heart was hardened. Pretty much, I felt like Scrooge. And I knew I was feeling this way so I thought that it would probably be better to just remove myself from being around people. Then I began getting really hard on myself, and the circle of bitter emotions just went round and round.

It was not until this morning at church when I saw what having that inner peace and trusting the Prince of Peace looked like, and my heart was broken.

One of my dad’s cousin’s was diagnosed with cancer a couple of years ago. I remember hearing about it and feeling sorry for him, especially since it was said that it did not look good. This year, everyone knows it will be his last Christmas.

This morning when we walked into church I saw a man who looked to be in his eighties, unable to hold up his head or neck because the cancer reached his spine, sitting in a wheelchair with his wife smiling by his side and his son standing next to him laughing. He has an 18 year old son who is going to graduate from high school in 2011, and that is the reason he is still getting treatments - so he can make it to see his son graduate. Surely, I thought, this could not be the man I remembered not so long ago. As my dad went over to that area, he said in the friendliest voice, “Hello Thad!” right to my dad, and I began to feel sad.

Surely God would not allow such suffering, especially during a season that is supposed to be filled with joy and celebration. I sat through the service in a weird shock. The service was beautiful; all about Joseph and how he trusted God. It felt ironic to me at the time because I felt so removed from God during that moment, during this whole weekend.

At the end of the service, each row went up at a time to kneel as the pastor came with the wine and bread for communion. I almost felt like I shouldn’t have gone up knowing just how awful of a mindset I was in. And as I knelt waiting for the bread to come to me I prayed that God would bring me peace and heal my heart. I felt like it was a cry out of desperation.

Moments later, as I sat back down in our pew, the man who is dying from cancer was wheeled up to the front by his wife and son and the rest of their pew to receive communion. He was not the same person I remember. If there was ever a picture of what suffering looked like, it was there. It did not seem fair that a man who was once so full of life was now so debilitated by an excruciatingly painful disease. It did not seem fair that he had to suffer in front of his wife and kids. Nothing about watching him take his communion and knowing that this Christmas was his last seemed fair. But somewhere in the sadness the Prince of Peace was ever present there. I can’t explain it. Out of anyone I know they should be the people who seem like they aren’t at peace. They should be the ones who rightfully so have a reason to doubt or to be mad at God. And yet instead of watching a family focused on their pain or sorrow, I saw three people who knew the Prince of Peace.

I sat feeling ashamed of myself for putting so much emotion into packing my clothes for Florida and worrying about my life when someone who I knew was fighting for theirs. My worries were so small. The moments I sat watching him take communion were painfully sad, but something I knew I needed to see. I looked over at my family who had tears in their eyes, and I wanted to cry too. How in the world does a man who cannot hold his head up even make it to church during winter? How can his family still sing in the choir and play the guitar and laugh? How can he still be as friendly as ever even with his feeble voice? It is because I believe they know what real peace is. And even though I saw his wife wipe tears from her eyes as she walked alone to grab her coat, I knew that she knew that there is something bigger out there than cancer, and that is why they could all still feel the presence of peace in the middle of such darkness.

So today I was reminded what Christmas really was all about. And I hope that these next days preceding Christmas, we can all find the peace that only He can bring, even in the darkest moments and when it is hard to believe. And when you think about the fact that a baby born 2,000 years ago came to be our Prince of Peace and take away every single one of our burdens and fears, the calm will come to your spirit, just as it did mine today.