I’m gonna have to blog about our last life group study. It was pretty cool. We’ve been doing this series at church called HOSTAGE that deals with stuff like bitterness, anger, worry, shame and addiction. It’s funny how stuff I’m blogging about often lines up with what’s going on at church. I don’t plan it, really. But you’ll see how that relates later.
Today I wanted to add something about the opportunity for redemption.
I was talking to a lady about how God can make something good out of a bad experience (that he has the power to redeem anything) and she said, what about the Holocaust?
So I had to say, “Corrie ten Boom.” Have you heard this story? It’s the true story of a Holocaust survivor who wrote a book called “The Hiding Place” about her family’s WWII experience.
In a nutshell, they hid Jews in their home until they were caught and thrown into a concentration camp. Corrie’s sister, father, brother and nephew died there. Corrie managed to survive the horrors. She wrote her book and became a famous speaker. She talked about love and forgiveness.
Then one day, at the age of 55, she was put to one of the hardest tests of her life. A man came up to her after a speaking engagement and began to talk to her. He confessed that he was a former Nazi guard at the famous Ravensbruck camp where she and her sister were tortured. He asked for her forgiveness, and held out his hand to her.
Corrie wrote later that although she had been preaching “God will give us the love to be able to forgive our enemies,” she felt no forgiveness toward the man standing in front of her. She was reluctant to even try. But she recognized the opportunity that God was giving her, so she prayed, and stretched out her hand. At that moment, she later wrote, a flood of forgiveness washed over her, and in reaching out to forgive, she found the grace and ability to do so.
“I had never known God’s love so intensely as I did then,” she wrote. “There is no pit so deep that God’s love is not deeper still.”
Hundreds of thousands of people’s lives have been changed by The Hiding Place and Corrie’s story, not to mention the scores of Jews and resistance fighters whose lives they saved before their capture. The Holocaust was one of the darkest times in human history, an ultimate example of how evil people can be. And yet, out the ashes of hatred and genocide comes a story of personal transformation, love, forgiveness and grace. A story of amazing redemption. No one would blame Corrie for bitterness, vengeance or hatred. Yet she took the opportunity to have love, joy and peace formed in her life through her violent circumstances.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Opportunity Knocks
Sometimes it knocks me on my head. Sometimes it knocks me on my ass.
Many respected theologians believe that God preordains everything in our lives. I’m not one of them. Well, I’m not a respected theologian either.
I think that free will is essential to true love. I think people have to be able to choose the wrong things in order for it to mean something that they choose the right things. I think God pretty much lets us do whatever we want. I think sometimes people choose to do bad things that hurt other people. I think God lets them, even when it means that bad things happen to good people. I don’t think God plays favorites.
But more than anything else, more than any other theological idea, I believe in redemption. I think that God can redeem anything. Yep, anything. I don’t think any situation is too bad for God to bring something shockingly beautiful and amazing out of it.
I think that God is really into opportunity.
You know that story in the book of Matthew, where Jesus is teaching and this woman comes up and begs him for help and he ignores her? The one in 15:21-28.
I always wondered why Jesus was initially so cold and uncaring toward her. Then I heard someone say that he wasn’t, really. They said that Jesus saw right into her heart and knew her faith, and so he opened the door for her to demonstrate it. They say that he said “it isn’t right to throw food to the dogs” so that she had the opportunity to say “even dogs eat the scraps” and thus demonstrate her faith to the world. They say this story illustrates Jesus’ commitment to opportunity.
It makes me wonder, is the crummy stuff in my life not just the result of other’s poor choices (and often, my own) but something more? Is it an opportunity for me to respond with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control?
How often do we flip our circumstances upside down and look at them from this perspective? That whatever’s going on in our life, especially the unpleasant stuff, is simply an opportunity. We can either demonstrate our faith to the world, or not.
Many respected theologians believe that God preordains everything in our lives. I’m not one of them. Well, I’m not a respected theologian either.
I think that free will is essential to true love. I think people have to be able to choose the wrong things in order for it to mean something that they choose the right things. I think God pretty much lets us do whatever we want. I think sometimes people choose to do bad things that hurt other people. I think God lets them, even when it means that bad things happen to good people. I don’t think God plays favorites.
But more than anything else, more than any other theological idea, I believe in redemption. I think that God can redeem anything. Yep, anything. I don’t think any situation is too bad for God to bring something shockingly beautiful and amazing out of it.
I think that God is really into opportunity.
You know that story in the book of Matthew, where Jesus is teaching and this woman comes up and begs him for help and he ignores her? The one in 15:21-28.
Then Jesus left Galilee and went north to the region of Tyre and Sidon. A Gentile woman who lived there came to him, pleading, “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David! For my daughter is possessed by a demon that torments her severely.” But Jesus gave her no reply, not even a word. Then his disciples urged him to send her away. “Tell her to go away,” they said. “She is bothering us with all her begging.”
Then Jesus said to the woman, “I was sent only to help God’s lost sheep—the people of Israel.” But she came and worshiped him, pleading again, “Lord, help me!”
Jesus responded, “It isn’t right to take food from the children and throw it to the dogs.” She replied, “That’s true, Lord, but even dogs are allowed to eat the scraps that fall beneath their masters’ table.”
“Dear woman,” Jesus said to her, “your faith is great. Your request is granted.” And her daughter was instantly healed.
I always wondered why Jesus was initially so cold and uncaring toward her. Then I heard someone say that he wasn’t, really. They said that Jesus saw right into her heart and knew her faith, and so he opened the door for her to demonstrate it. They say that he said “it isn’t right to throw food to the dogs” so that she had the opportunity to say “even dogs eat the scraps” and thus demonstrate her faith to the world. They say this story illustrates Jesus’ commitment to opportunity.
It makes me wonder, is the crummy stuff in my life not just the result of other’s poor choices (and often, my own) but something more? Is it an opportunity for me to respond with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control?
How often do we flip our circumstances upside down and look at them from this perspective? That whatever’s going on in our life, especially the unpleasant stuff, is simply an opportunity. We can either demonstrate our faith to the world, or not.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Knowledge vs Obedience
Naturally, it’s easier to say than do. Saying only takes a few muscles; doing takes much more energy.
Last night I started to get into it with someone. They were being a jerk, and I got mad. I wanted to “bop” them, as my mother-in-law puts it.
And, of course, I immediately thought of that little five-part blog I wrote mere days ago … you know, the one about making allowances for other’s faults, and forgiving anyone who offends you.
Yikes.
Why do I do this to myself?
One of my mentors tells me that we shouldn’t be so eager to learn more about the bible, because we’re responsible to obey what we know. Generally, we have this tendency to want to “know” more without “obeying” more. This mentor always asks me, what’s the level of your obedience, compared to your level of knowledge? Ouch. Did I mention I’m pretty much still working on the “love your neighbor as yourself” bit?
So here I am, sitting at the kitchen counter, running over those verses in my head and still wanting to poke his eyes out (let’s say the object of my frustration was male).
And I didn’t know what to do. I felt pretty helpless, sitting there angry and knowing I needed to let go of the anger, and not knowing how to make it happen. I just kept running over the verses that I’ve been reading the last few weeks … the verses about forgiveness and mercy and grace.
And then I thought of an old story, the story in John 8 where the rabbis of caught a woman in adultery and brought her to be stoned, as the law instructed. They asked Jesus, “should we stone her?” because they wanted to trap him into making a theological mistake.
But Jesus doesn’t say anything. He just leans over and starts tracing his finger through the soft dirt on the ground. He scribbles patterns and dots, running his fingers across the dusty ground. The rabbis, impatient, demand an answer. So Jesus says the now-famous line, “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”
And the rabbis melt away. Finally the woman is left standing there alone, and Jesus says, “Who is there to condemn you?”
“No one,” she says. “Neither do I condemn you,” Jesus says. “Go your way and sin no more.”
I like the modern interpretation of this story, the one that suggests Jesus may have been writing very specific words in the dirt. That those words may have been the sins of the rabbis, which shamed them into dropping their stones.
As my anger bubbled under my skin, I thought of that woman, and of the person I was upset with. So I climbed off my stool and knelt on the floor in my kitchen, and began to name my own sins … the sins God has forgiven for me. The sins others have forgiven me of.
I am so grateful to have been forgiven. I am so grateful that people I love are so ready to forgive me, to wipe the slate clean. I am able to forgive because I have been forgiven. “Deserving” it isn’t really part of the equation when I have to choose whether or not to forgive and move forward in love.
See? You should be mindful of what you pray for. If you want to be forgiven, God will keep giving you opportunities to learn how to forgive. As CS Lewis said, you can’t be too careful. God is quite unscrupulous.
Last night I started to get into it with someone. They were being a jerk, and I got mad. I wanted to “bop” them, as my mother-in-law puts it.
And, of course, I immediately thought of that little five-part blog I wrote mere days ago … you know, the one about making allowances for other’s faults, and forgiving anyone who offends you.
Yikes.
Why do I do this to myself?
One of my mentors tells me that we shouldn’t be so eager to learn more about the bible, because we’re responsible to obey what we know. Generally, we have this tendency to want to “know” more without “obeying” more. This mentor always asks me, what’s the level of your obedience, compared to your level of knowledge? Ouch. Did I mention I’m pretty much still working on the “love your neighbor as yourself” bit?
So here I am, sitting at the kitchen counter, running over those verses in my head and still wanting to poke his eyes out (let’s say the object of my frustration was male).
And I didn’t know what to do. I felt pretty helpless, sitting there angry and knowing I needed to let go of the anger, and not knowing how to make it happen. I just kept running over the verses that I’ve been reading the last few weeks … the verses about forgiveness and mercy and grace.
And then I thought of an old story, the story in John 8 where the rabbis of caught a woman in adultery and brought her to be stoned, as the law instructed. They asked Jesus, “should we stone her?” because they wanted to trap him into making a theological mistake.
But Jesus doesn’t say anything. He just leans over and starts tracing his finger through the soft dirt on the ground. He scribbles patterns and dots, running his fingers across the dusty ground. The rabbis, impatient, demand an answer. So Jesus says the now-famous line, “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”
And the rabbis melt away. Finally the woman is left standing there alone, and Jesus says, “Who is there to condemn you?”
“No one,” she says. “Neither do I condemn you,” Jesus says. “Go your way and sin no more.”
I like the modern interpretation of this story, the one that suggests Jesus may have been writing very specific words in the dirt. That those words may have been the sins of the rabbis, which shamed them into dropping their stones.
As my anger bubbled under my skin, I thought of that woman, and of the person I was upset with. So I climbed off my stool and knelt on the floor in my kitchen, and began to name my own sins … the sins God has forgiven for me. The sins others have forgiven me of.
I am so grateful to have been forgiven. I am so grateful that people I love are so ready to forgive me, to wipe the slate clean. I am able to forgive because I have been forgiven. “Deserving” it isn’t really part of the equation when I have to choose whether or not to forgive and move forward in love.
See? You should be mindful of what you pray for. If you want to be forgiven, God will keep giving you opportunities to learn how to forgive. As CS Lewis said, you can’t be too careful. God is quite unscrupulous.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
"Politicked," reprised
Thursday, January 8, 2009
"Peace on Earth," part five
It’s hard to take the initiative in making peace when you feel wronged. Or even if someone else feels you wronged them. It’s uncomfortable, and icky. (Although the good news is it, like everything, gets much easier when you practice!)
It’s hard to be forgiving on the inside as well as the outside. But Jesus says that what we say to each other matters, and how we feel about each other matters. What’s in our hearts matters.
But here’s the best part: we don’t have to be humble and forgiving just because it’s the right thing to do. We don’t practice this and fail and try again and work toward conflict resolution because we should. We do it because he did it for us first. We do it because we know what it feels like on the other side. We do it because we are forgiven. Because our conflict has been resolved.
In Matthew 18, Jesus follows up his teaching with a parable. There was a man who owed a lot of money to a really big fish. It was serious. Some limbs could definitely be snapped if he didn’t pay up. In fact, the fish set out to take his wife and kids, too. But the man went to the big fish, crawling, and begged for mercy. He explained that he couldn’t pay the money back, he begged for more time, and a shocking thing happened: the big fish nodded. “Go,” he said. “Fuggetaboutit.” Just like that. His debt was erased. The big fish had pity on the man and his family and let them go.
So the man, relieved but also pretty stressed by this incident, went to his down-and-out friend and took out his stress on him. The friend owed him some money and the man demanded that he pay up. The friend couldn’t, so the man roughed him up good. The big fish found out and dragged the man back in. And tortured him. Until the money was all paid back … the previously forgiven debt … because the man who received mercy didn’t show mercy.
Nice story, huh? Yeah, it actually says the guy was tortured.
And then Jesus brings it all home with this: “That’s what my heavenly Father will do to you if you refuse to forgive your brothers and sisters from your heart.”
Are you kidding me? I guess he really is serious about this. We have been forgiven, no questions asked. We have been redeemed and restored, and all the not-so-good things we’ve done, all our bad choices, are wiped out. We’re free and clear, just for the asking. I don’t know about you, but that right there speaks peace to my soul. I love being forgiven.
But Jesus doesn’t leave it there. God doesn’t leave it there. Now, he says, do unto others. Now, get over yourself. Go to them, humble your heart, and do everything you can to make peace.
It’s hard to be forgiving on the inside as well as the outside. But Jesus says that what we say to each other matters, and how we feel about each other matters. What’s in our hearts matters.
But here’s the best part: we don’t have to be humble and forgiving just because it’s the right thing to do. We don’t practice this and fail and try again and work toward conflict resolution because we should. We do it because he did it for us first. We do it because we know what it feels like on the other side. We do it because we are forgiven. Because our conflict has been resolved.
In Matthew 18, Jesus follows up his teaching with a parable. There was a man who owed a lot of money to a really big fish. It was serious. Some limbs could definitely be snapped if he didn’t pay up. In fact, the fish set out to take his wife and kids, too. But the man went to the big fish, crawling, and begged for mercy. He explained that he couldn’t pay the money back, he begged for more time, and a shocking thing happened: the big fish nodded. “Go,” he said. “Fuggetaboutit.” Just like that. His debt was erased. The big fish had pity on the man and his family and let them go.
So the man, relieved but also pretty stressed by this incident, went to his down-and-out friend and took out his stress on him. The friend owed him some money and the man demanded that he pay up. The friend couldn’t, so the man roughed him up good. The big fish found out and dragged the man back in. And tortured him. Until the money was all paid back … the previously forgiven debt … because the man who received mercy didn’t show mercy.
Nice story, huh? Yeah, it actually says the guy was tortured.
And then Jesus brings it all home with this: “That’s what my heavenly Father will do to you if you refuse to forgive your brothers and sisters from your heart.”
Are you kidding me? I guess he really is serious about this. We have been forgiven, no questions asked. We have been redeemed and restored, and all the not-so-good things we’ve done, all our bad choices, are wiped out. We’re free and clear, just for the asking. I don’t know about you, but that right there speaks peace to my soul. I love being forgiven.
But Jesus doesn’t leave it there. God doesn’t leave it there. Now, he says, do unto others. Now, get over yourself. Go to them, humble your heart, and do everything you can to make peace.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
"Peace on Earth," part four
I’ve totally bought into this idea of speaking up and telling people when they’ve hurt me, and doing it in a loving and constructive way. It makes sense, not holding grudges and not letting things build up inside of me … you know, the pus of bitterness that can infect your wounds.
But what Jesus said in Matthew 5 is so much harder. Notice his wording (it works in any translation): if someone has something against you. In Matthew 18, it’s if I have a problem with someone else, go and tell them, confess it, if you will. But in Matthew 5, it’s if they have something against me. Yikes. That’s hard to admit, and even harder to confront!
But even that’s cake compared to what he says next.
In Psalms, David says, “I listen carefully to what God the Lord is saying, for he speaks peace to his people.” I’ve written about this before – God speaks peace to us – God wants to be at peace with us. That’s why people brought their sacrifices to the temple … it was their assurance that God had forgiven them, wiped the slate clean. It was a physical embodiment of their forgiveness … it was tactile, it was serious, it was real. It gave them confidence that they were at peace with God.
So here’s what Jesus says next: if you’re not willing to be reconciled to each other, don’t bother trying to be reconciled to me.
Stop it, he says, just stop it. Anyone who says they love me, and does not love others, especially the least among them, does not love me at all, Jesus says. Don’t fool yourselves. You’ve heard that you should love your families and friends. But I say, love your enemies. “Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you. If you only love those who love you, what’s special about that? Even corrupt people do that much. If you are kind only to your friends, how are you different? Everyone does that.” (Matthew 5)
I know, it’s a tall order. Especially when the whole sneaky payback thing is so easy. Even if you just keep it inside, the resentment and bitterness, Jesus says it’s the same as if you lashed out, because what is in your heart is what’s true about you. If you harbor anger in your heart, it’s as if you stabbed them with a knife, Jesus says (also Matthew 5). It matters. What you say to each other matters. How you treat each other matters. What you think in your heart about each other matters.
…to be continued further.
But what Jesus said in Matthew 5 is so much harder. Notice his wording (it works in any translation): if someone has something against you. In Matthew 18, it’s if I have a problem with someone else, go and tell them, confess it, if you will. But in Matthew 5, it’s if they have something against me. Yikes. That’s hard to admit, and even harder to confront!
But even that’s cake compared to what he says next.
In Psalms, David says, “I listen carefully to what God the Lord is saying, for he speaks peace to his people.” I’ve written about this before – God speaks peace to us – God wants to be at peace with us. That’s why people brought their sacrifices to the temple … it was their assurance that God had forgiven them, wiped the slate clean. It was a physical embodiment of their forgiveness … it was tactile, it was serious, it was real. It gave them confidence that they were at peace with God.
So here’s what Jesus says next: if you’re not willing to be reconciled to each other, don’t bother trying to be reconciled to me.
Stop it, he says, just stop it. Anyone who says they love me, and does not love others, especially the least among them, does not love me at all, Jesus says. Don’t fool yourselves. You’ve heard that you should love your families and friends. But I say, love your enemies. “Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you. If you only love those who love you, what’s special about that? Even corrupt people do that much. If you are kind only to your friends, how are you different? Everyone does that.” (Matthew 5)
I know, it’s a tall order. Especially when the whole sneaky payback thing is so easy. Even if you just keep it inside, the resentment and bitterness, Jesus says it’s the same as if you lashed out, because what is in your heart is what’s true about you. If you harbor anger in your heart, it’s as if you stabbed them with a knife, Jesus says (also Matthew 5). It matters. What you say to each other matters. How you treat each other matters. What you think in your heart about each other matters.
…to be continued further.
Monday, January 5, 2009
"Peace on Earth," part three
When someone hurts you, or pisses you off, what do you do? I’m always tempted to be nasty back…if they blew me off, I want to blow them off. If they said something mean, I want to say something meaner. If they cut me off, I want to mutter rude things under my breath and give them a glare. But that’s really not the way to go. It’s too obvious if you just up and sock them. It’s better if you get them kinda sneaky.
Just the thought of confrontation makes me nervous and sweaty, so the thought of underhand retribution is much more enticing. You know, subtlety. Passive-aggressive, maybe. High-handed; polite but condescending. Yeeessss. Much better. Give them the old “I’m the better person; not stooping to your level; they just want attention because their life is such a mess; I’m so much better than they are.” That’ll show ‘em. Kill ‘em with your righteousness.
Unfortunately, Jesus tends to frown on that. Sweet little baby Jesus was all about peace, right? Peace on earth, goodwill towards men, the angels said at his birth. Peace on earth.
The grownup Jesus was a little more specific. In Matthew, right after he finished the Beatitudes, he said this: “If you are presenting a sacrifice at the altar in the Temple and you suddenly remember that someone has something against you, leave your sacrifice there at the altar. Go and be reconciled to that person. Then come and offer your sacrifice to God.” (Matthew 5:23-24)
At my church, we’re big on Biblical conflict resolution. Our primary directive comes from Matthew 18, where Jesus said, “If a fellow believer hurts you, go and tell him—work it out between the two of you. If he listens, you've made a friend. If he won't listen, take one or two others along so that the presence of witnesses will keep things honest, and try again. If he still won't listen, tell the church. If he won't listen to the church, you'll have to start over from scratch, confront him with the need for repentance, and offer again God's forgiving love. Take this most seriously... What you say to one another is eternal. I mean this.”
It works, but it’s not much fun. The worst part is how you have to be nice and loving toward them, and humble. That’s the worst! When you really just want to be smug or passive-aggressive. I’ve had some practice on this. Too much, some might say.
But I get it. Really, I do. I’ve totally bought into this idea of speaking up and telling people when they’ve hurt me, and doing it in a loving and constructive way.
One time, almost unbelievably, I did end up with a friend because I went through this process: a stranger went from being very angry to being my friend.
To be continued …
Just the thought of confrontation makes me nervous and sweaty, so the thought of underhand retribution is much more enticing. You know, subtlety. Passive-aggressive, maybe. High-handed; polite but condescending. Yeeessss. Much better. Give them the old “I’m the better person; not stooping to your level; they just want attention because their life is such a mess; I’m so much better than they are.” That’ll show ‘em. Kill ‘em with your righteousness.
Unfortunately, Jesus tends to frown on that. Sweet little baby Jesus was all about peace, right? Peace on earth, goodwill towards men, the angels said at his birth. Peace on earth.
The grownup Jesus was a little more specific. In Matthew, right after he finished the Beatitudes, he said this: “If you are presenting a sacrifice at the altar in the Temple and you suddenly remember that someone has something against you, leave your sacrifice there at the altar. Go and be reconciled to that person. Then come and offer your sacrifice to God.” (Matthew 5:23-24)
At my church, we’re big on Biblical conflict resolution. Our primary directive comes from Matthew 18, where Jesus said, “If a fellow believer hurts you, go and tell him—work it out between the two of you. If he listens, you've made a friend. If he won't listen, take one or two others along so that the presence of witnesses will keep things honest, and try again. If he still won't listen, tell the church. If he won't listen to the church, you'll have to start over from scratch, confront him with the need for repentance, and offer again God's forgiving love. Take this most seriously... What you say to one another is eternal. I mean this.”
It works, but it’s not much fun. The worst part is how you have to be nice and loving toward them, and humble. That’s the worst! When you really just want to be smug or passive-aggressive. I’ve had some practice on this. Too much, some might say.
But I get it. Really, I do. I’ve totally bought into this idea of speaking up and telling people when they’ve hurt me, and doing it in a loving and constructive way.
One time, almost unbelievably, I did end up with a friend because I went through this process: a stranger went from being very angry to being my friend.
To be continued …
Saturday, January 3, 2009
"Peace on Earth," part two
Here’s the thing about peace: generally, I think it’s something we want to get rather than give. Something we want applied to us, not something we want to apply to others. Something we want to feel, not something we want to work for. Or is it just me?
I think of peace as a calmness, being unflappable, being serene. But that’s only a little piece of peace. Peace is so much bigger than that. The peace we are called to, anyway. It’s looking out for the interests of others above our own interests. It’s blessing not just our friends, but our enemies too. (Those totally undeserving miscreants.) It’s giving up of ourselves in order to demonstrate patience, generosity and love to those who deserve it least.
Psalm 34:14 and 1 Peter 3:11 say the same thing: “Search for peace, and work to maintain it.” Hebrews 12:14 says, “Work at living in peace with everyone.” 2 Timothy 2:22 instructs us to “pursue peace.” And Psalm 85:10 ties together love, truth and peace: “Unfailing love and truth meet together; righteousness and peace will kiss.”
I’d never thought of peace this way before … as something I must choose, every day. Something I don’t just pray for, but work for. Maybe – maybe – peace doesn’t just come to me, maybe peace comes from me, if I’m willing.
I think of peace as a calmness, being unflappable, being serene. But that’s only a little piece of peace. Peace is so much bigger than that. The peace we are called to, anyway. It’s looking out for the interests of others above our own interests. It’s blessing not just our friends, but our enemies too. (Those totally undeserving miscreants.) It’s giving up of ourselves in order to demonstrate patience, generosity and love to those who deserve it least.
Psalm 34:14 and 1 Peter 3:11 say the same thing: “Search for peace, and work to maintain it.” Hebrews 12:14 says, “Work at living in peace with everyone.” 2 Timothy 2:22 instructs us to “pursue peace.” And Psalm 85:10 ties together love, truth and peace: “Unfailing love and truth meet together; righteousness and peace will kiss.”
I’d never thought of peace this way before … as something I must choose, every day. Something I don’t just pray for, but work for. Maybe – maybe – peace doesn’t just come to me, maybe peace comes from me, if I’m willing.
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