The phrase “Grace and Peace” was firmly entrenched in the lexicon of Emmaus Road Community Church. It was said as both a greeting and farewell during services, but it also slipped into our everyday vernacular. Emails, letters, cards—all signed “Grace and Peace.” It was a benediction, a prayer, a blessing.
Now I have those words above the door in our porch. The outside is an invitation, Bon Repos, and the inside is a final prayer, a last thought before you leave our house, Grace and Peace.
I am aware of God’s grace in my life every day—probably every minute of every day. I see it in my husband’s hand wrapped around mine. I see it when our kids laugh together, bright, unfettered laughter that fills the house and sets Lennie barking and running in tight circles.
Grace surrounds me; I breathe it in. I sip it like wine.
But peace. That’s another story. I struggle with being at peace. There was an X Files episode where Mulder wished for world peace. What he got was an empty planet inhabited only by him. I have a quote on my wall by Virginia Wolff that says, “You cannot find peace by avoiding life.” My first thought is, why not? That sounds like a plan. Just avoid unpleasantness. But I don’t think Mulder or I would truly find peace just by being alone or avoiding life.
True peace is something that comes from inside. A quiet surety of Who is in charge and a steady confidence that He wants what is best for us. There is a reason that the words grace and peace are often linked together. God’s abundant favor, His overflowing mercy leads us to a life of rest and peace.
Grace does surround me, but I think I need to breathe a little deeper and drink to the dregs.
If true peace is something that comes from within for someone like me, seconds of it may be all I ever know and I will take it. Peace for me comes in small, no tiny, microscopic bits - hugs from a grandchild, a phone call from a son who is well, the moment Jeff sits next to me as I sit on the couch streaming inexplicable tears - peace is being alone in a church full of people on Sunday morning and hearing only the music and knowing that God meant those lyrics for me that morning.
The phrase “Grace and Peace” was firmly entrenched in the lexicon of Emmaus Road Community Church. It was said as both a greeting and farewell during services, but it also slipped into our everyday vernacular. Emails, letters, cards—all signed “Grace and Peace.” It was a benediction, a prayer, a blessing.
If true peace is something that comes from within for someone like me, seconds of it may be all I ever know and I will take it. Peace for me comes in small, no tiny, microscopic bits - hugs from a grandchild, a phone call from a son who is well, the moment Jeff sits next to me as I sit on the couch streaming inexplicable tears - peace is being alone in a church full of people on Sunday morning and hearing only the music and knowing that God meant those lyrics for me that morning.
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