Today’s guest post is from frequent reader and commenter Todd Smithson.

My reading of the New Testament in 2023 along with some deep challenges in my personal life, resulted in me seeing a version of Jesus that more closely resembled Buddha than the Mormon prophet. In John 14:27 Jesus says, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”

There goes Jesus being Jesus again. As usual, he is proposing a radical if not seeming impossibility. Yeah right, no troubled heart or fearful mind. I want to ask Jesus if he was using hyperbole or if he meant exactly what he said. Jesus makes clear that he is offering a different kind of peace though, not the way it’s usually described, but a new way. He’s making a distinction in how we understand and therefore attempt to achieve peace.  In true Jesus form, he’s challenging our concept of peace, suggesting that our ways are not his ways, that the peace you seek will never be found where you are
looking.

What is the distinction? How do we mortals set out to accomplish peace and how does God bring about peace? Well, it seems odd that I’m about to attempt to define “peace” how God would when I am just a mere mortal, but here we go.
Where we seek peace by destruction and avoidance, he seeks it through transformation. (not withstanding the many Old Testament stories that look otherwise), which I believe are more projections of men using God as a prop in their quest to
conquer. Everything we see with poet Jesus is paradoxical; down is up and up is down, finding yourself is losing yourself, and the greatest power is restraint, not force.

Peace is a different kind of response to conflict. It seeks to turn gridlock into goodness, instead of disagreement into apocalypse.  Peace seeks justice, not eradication of opposition. It seeks compromise over imposition. Peace sees opposition as necessary and therefore listens intently with the understanding that wholeness is found by integrating opposites, not by destroying them.

Conflict is not the problem, our response to conflict is the problem. Our ways of bringing about peace assume that domination, revolution, isolation and purification can be used to eradicate the other.  This misunderstanding results in a
response that only perpetuates evil in the name of eliminating it. Because, in our limited rational minds, we define peace as the absence of conflict, we often employ tactics that more closely resemble evil than justice.

We typically have two primary strategies for handling conflict, neither accomplish true peace, only counterfeits accomplished by fight or flight.  On one side, peace goes to the one with bigger guns, and the other, flight, results in suppression of the truth, which builds resentment.

Peace is like a river, Isaiah says. It’s tempting to read this verse as a judgement against life’s many vulnerabilities that feel like anything but peace.  This however would be dismissive of the real life scriptural and personal accounts that are filled with suffering and affliction amidst seemingly valiant commandment keeping. 

You see, I had one of those nights last night that Simon and Garfunkel describe in their famous song “The sound of silence”, “Hello darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again”, tossing and turning, and wrestling with the bogeyman that comes to visit when it’s silent and the lights go out.  The worries of life, one after another visited my mind last night, and try as I might they found a way to stay far longer than I wanted. 

Reading and discussing things from a book, even the kinds that come from scripture, can quickly illuminate that maps and roads are very, very different.  The best that I can read from Isaiah’s beautiful poetry here is what I think Jesus is always trying to show us, a different way to live, where peace, like a river will not be the absence of conflict, obstacles, or worries and stresses, but will flow over them, as it does the many rocks and crooks concealed by the river. The river also always has an origin and a destination–it’s created by the evaporation of the salt water, condensed in the heavens, and then returned in its pure, fresh water form to mountain peaks where it commences its journey back to the sea, where it began.

Job and his friends held a convicted belief found in the tidy law written in Deuteronomy.  The law states, if you obey, you are blessed, and if you break the law, you are cursed (punished).  The book of Job comes along like a quality defense attorney, saying, hold on a minute, pump the brakes.  Maps are just maps, but they are not real experience. Adam Miller writes in his book, Letters to a young Mormon; “From the near side of trying, it may look like things have been pretty well mapped out for you.  Just stick to the plan.  Memorize your articles of faith, get your merit badges signed off, get good grades, go on a mission, go to the temple, have a family, keep the commandments, etc.  There may be a few details here and there to handle, but nothing major.  You’ve got a map, you just have to follow it.

Once you get to work, you’ll be unnerved by the distance between the neat map in your hand and the rough terrain at your feet. Fighting to coordinate the two, you’ll be tempted to throw the whole thing over or, by way of compromise, to sit down and gossip about how great the map is.  This latter kind of admiration is often mistaken for a religious life. Perhaps it is religious, but it is no life. Even sound maps are just maps. They are no substitute for real roads.  The gap between theory and practice is often biggest with the simplest things.”

In my everyday life, fallen and forgetful, I feel the weight of time.  Time is heavy and demanding.  I rush from place to place. I forget where I am and what matters. I feel guilty about the past. I’m bored by the present. I’m stressed about the future. There’s never enough time. It’s hard to sleep at night. Anger and regret are close at hand. Life is slipping away. But Christ is offering something else. Not just rest in the next life, but rest as a way of life. The effect of this rest is immediate and bodily. In Christ, the pounding in my head goes quiet. The knots in my neck loosen. My teeth stop grinding and my fists unclench. And, even while I’m busy at work, I can feel, deep in my gut, a poised, powerful, radiating silence.

  1. How is peace like a river to you?
  2. What practices have been useful in providing peace amidst life’s storms?
  3. How do you think the Church could offer peace to exiting members instead of
    blame?