"If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.”
Mother Teresa
“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.” Luke 2:14
Last Saturday in Paris I prayed for peace. Beneath the majestic dome of the Basilica of the Sacred Heart I prayed that the Prince of Peace would quell the violence that ravages our world.
I’ve traveled more in the last four months than ever before in my life. In the UK I challenging pastors and church volunteers to support African church leaders who are heroically battling the enemies of extreme poverty and HIV/AIDS. In South Africa, I visited the front lines of the battle, rejoicing with those who have known small victories and grieving with those who seem to face one defeat after the next. In the Middle East, I sat with Christians from Iraq, Lebanon, Egypt, and Palestine who told the horrific stories that always accompany war and regional hostilities. In New York City I attended a workshop on the growing global food crisis.
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
In-between trips I listened to television news stories about the worldwide financial collapse. I watched videos about the escalating violence in Sudan and the DR Congo, were rape continues to be the preferred weapon of destruction. I read about piracy on the Somali coast. Child soldiers in Uganda. Bombings in Mumbai. Riots in Greece. Corruption and cholera in Zimbabwe. Sex trafficking of children. Oppression of women. Ongoing war in Afghanistan and Iraq. Growing fear of Iran.
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
My last trip was to Paris to attend a conference on nuclear disarmament. After showing black and white films of the unimaginable devastation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, military experts from across the globe and across the political divide called passionately for a world free of nuclear weapons. I was an observer and a learner. I don’t pretend to understand the political strategies, the regional hostilities, nor the cultural mindsets that push the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction. But I do know this: a weapon designed to indiscriminately obliterate life must be hated by the God who gives life.
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
At the Paris conference, my mind raced to follow the words of military experts, but on a level deeper than my mind, I heard the simple, quiet command I’ve heard repeatedly in recent months: Pray for peace.
Anyone who knows me knows I am committed to action. I believe in getting our hands dirty in the muck and mess of our broken world. I believe in speaking up for the voiceless, advocating for just laws, giving generously and acting compassionately. But I also believe that human action is not enough.
So on my last day in Paris I took the Metro to Notre Dame de Lorette, tilted my umbrella against the freezing rain and walked up the Rue des Martyrs, then climbed the concrete stairs to Basilique Sacre-Coeur. While tourists filed slowly by, I sat in a wooden chair beneath the stained glass blossoms that ring the dome. And I prayed for peace. Peace in my heart, where busyness too often produces agitation and stress. Peace in my marriage, where my selfishness so easily creates distance. Peace in my country, where partisan politics obscure the common good. Peace in my world, where ideologies and national identities take precedence over people, where corrupt leaders fuel hatred and fear.
Dear God, please stop the hands of rebels who rape and kill. Encourage the hearts of people who pursue nonviolence and reconciliation. Change the minds of men who exploit children and violate women. Thwart the efforts of those who seek to build bombs. Raise up public protests that force corrupt leaders out of power. Give wisdom to politicians and military leaders whose decisions can halt or escalate war.
Prayer is no magic wand. Personally, I’ve been disappointed by the mystery of prayer as often as I’ve been exhilarated. But I cannot ignore the command: Pray for peace. On my desk sits a stack of Christmas cards decorated with a simple etched dove, the universal symbol of peace. On the inside is written peace…paix…paz. Despite my good intentions it’s likely I won’t have time to sign and send the cards, but that’s okay. I appreciate the visual reminder they provide each time I sit down at my desk; I look at them, I think of a region of the world beset with hostilities, and then I pray.
Will you join me in celebrating this Christmas season by taking a few moments here and there to offer the gift of prayer to a world longing for peace? I can think of no more appropriate or needed gift for us to give in Jesus’ name.
For more information on a Christian perspective of nuclear weapons, see www.twofuturesproject.org.
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