Peace is Better

A fiery certainty lives inside most human beings when they’re 25 years old. 25 year olds are the ultimate in confidence that they know the best way to do things, the best way to think, and what is right and wrong. Most 50 year olds have realized that they know less than ever. We’ve seen 25 year old authors write books in which they lay out a philosophy of marriage or dating, only to hear that years later they renounced the whole idea. Many 50 year olds have learned enough to know that they aren’t good enough at marriage to give much advice about it, and if 50 year olds do give marriage advice, it’s generally tempered with a healthy dose of humility. Living a few extra years has a way of humbling us, and that’s a good thing.

Since my days as a fiery 25 year old, God has graciously humbled me through my confident missteps. One thing I’ve learned is this: confrontation, unless absolutely necessary for a relationship to continue, is rarely worth it. In my younger years I had a hard time tempering my sense of injustice. I would easily march down a hallway at work to say something that I felt needed to be said, and each and every time that I let my fiery certainty direct my steps, I ended up regretting it immensely. I would make my self-righteous statement and then walk away shaky and remoreseful, wishing that I had said nothing. As a young married woman, I was quick to point out all of the ways that I felt our marriage could improve. I was sure that I knew exactly what was going on in each of our hearts and was quick to diagnose the problem. Surprise: my conclusion was often that the problem was him, not me. Over and over again I would initiate confrontations that wound up fixing nothing, and probably just created new problems.

25 year old me was not much interested in the truth that love covers a multitude of sins, or that a soft answer turns away wrath, or that kind words are like honey, sweet to the soul. I didn’t think much about how I’m called to live at peace with everyone or that peace is actually a fruit of the spirit, or that love bears all things. I wanted my rightness to be front and center more that I wanted love and peace to permeate my life.

To this day, I still struggle in certain ways to tamp down that urge to say what I want to say, or to insist on my rightness. I suppose in some of us it’s a battle that is always raging in small ways inside. But God has taught me, with great patience and mercy, that peace is better.

I’m not advocating for being silent about the great injustices of our society. We have to speak the truth when it’s needed. But I am saying that most of the things we want to create conflict and confrontation about in this world are just ways for us to personally feel that we got to say our piece, for us to get some sort of validation that we’re right, or for us to let someone else know that they’ve wronged us or made us feel sad, angry, or disappointed. I would argue that in most instances, the better path is the one where we pray and ask the Lord to soften our own heart, forgiving the person who slighted us or made us feel a certain way, and moving on with our day in peace.

We’ve all been recipients of this kind of grace, when someone is kind to us although we probably deserved harsh words. I know that I never, ever forget it when someone extends that kind of love to me when I least deserve it. Peace is a gift from God, and we see His character clearly when we are on the receiving end of a peacemaker’s gracious response.

So to the fiery 25 year olds of the world, don’t take as long as I did to begin learning this great truth of Christian living: Peace is better. You don’t have to say everything that you want to say, even if it feels wise at the time. Choose peace, choose grace, extend mercy, and show the world a small glimpse of what God is like.