my peace

 by Alanna

Jesus is Himself our peace. I've thought about it a lot over this past summer, as things have felt more crazy than usual in north Minneapolis. I know there have been more shootings, but I didn't grieve many of them until the one right down the street from us, in broad daylight. It made me sad that I didn't know who the man was, that I'd never know if he made it in the end. And the fight made me sad too, two weeks later, from a different house. Also in the daylight, also a common occurence here. But knowing these kids- their names and faces- has grown my love and thus my capacity to weep with and for them. To weep for all the brokenness here. Jesus is Himself our peace. I had opportunity to speak as much to a few neighbors and the lady who delivered our mail that day. Just a few words, not much.  

But then burdens hit closer to home too. In my own family, my own friends. And then it feels like the dark is descending early and my own mind becomes a muddle some days. Maybe it's the long shadows or the dark mornings, maybe it's just the way the baby has shifted all these chemicals in my body. Maybe I'm just tired. Jesus is Himself my peace.

 Last weekend we went out to the forest, and I remember feeling so bad that morning and just thankful that we were getting out in nature somewhere. Trees will fix this, I think. The beautiful fall colors, moving my feet one in front of the other, holding small hands of my little people. Somewhere to be. Beauty. But then on the drive it hit me so hard. Jesus is Himself my peace. Sometimes I feel closer to Him out there, but sometimes I feel just as muddled. It's Him I long for. It's heaven. To me they are the same. The trees won't fix this. But He Himself is my peace.  

So when I cried in my bed that night I first cried out to Him in the blackness. Jesus I need you. Jesus I want you. Jesus I am nothing without you. Everything else could go and He is all I really want. He Himself is my peace.

(And then this picture arrived in my inbox, in the kind of e-mails I never open, but just tonight...)