As 2020 drew to a close, I felt drawn to a certain word, and could sense the Lord was urging me to commit myself to it for the coming year: Peace.
Relational peace. Not just a pause on conflict, but true and real reconciliation.
Inner peace. Maybe that looks like acceptance of myself.
Peace in the midst of uncertainty. I’ll graduate at the end of this calendar year and have no idea what’s coming next. Graduate school? Starting my career? A gap year? Such uncertainty triggers a host of negative responses in my information-oriented personality: unease, panic, even hopelessness or despair if things aren’t going well. I feel that the Lord is gently shushing me, soothing me with a calming whisper, “Trust Me. I do not need to give you all the answers to give you Peace.”
I’m in a Hebrew class right now (two, actually). The Hebrew word for peace, shalom, doesn’t just refer to an absence of turmoil. Shalom is a greeting (both hi and bye). More importantly, It’s a noun. It refers to the whole person, their well-being. Mind, body, and soul. As a casual way of asking what’s happening, you’ll say “Maneshma?” But if you want to ask how they’re really doing, beyond the superficial, you say, “Ma sh’lomkah?” — How is your peace?
Peace can be found in silence. A break from information, noise, input. I’ve been thinking about the Sabbath greeting, “Shabbat Shalom.” It’s an interesting combination of words, but I think part of the reason why we’re supposed to pause our usual activities on the Sabbath day is to give ourselves space to experience God’s peace.
But while conducive to its cultivation, silence is not always a necessary prerequisite of peace. Peace can be found even in the busy times, the uncertain times, the stressful times.
It goes deep. It is not superficially dependent on external circumstances, the things your eyes can see and your skin can touch. It’s an attitude of the mind, a posture of the heart, an action of the body: unclenching your jaw and opening your hands and taking a deep, peaceful breath.
Philippians says, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
Every situation. Guarding your mind.
I have a custom. Every Christmas break, I make a point of going to Huntington Beach and slack-lining at least once. For those of you who don’t know what slack-lining is: it’s an activity that consists of walking across a tightrope you set up between two points. I like to do it at the palm trees along the bike path at Huntington Beach. I usually go with friends.
This year, I decided to practice my custom on New Year’s day— a mistake, because Huntington Beach was PACKED. Loads of people, many not wearing masks. There were Probably 20 people passing by a minute on the bike path, which eliminated my plan to go to my usual trees three feet off the path. I settled on a less-than-ideal spot instead: two palm trees as far apart as my slackline would allow (literally. When I set it up, there was about a foot’s worth of slack remaining). A longer line means more bounce, and more shaking since it catches the wind. The cars on PCH were loud, since I was so much closer to the street than usual. I persisted with my plan.
It had been about nine months since I’d last slacklined. I was out of practice. Everything was so busy and loud. The wind was especially lively that day. I got on the line and made it a third of the way across on my first try. Unexpected.
I have two pieces of advice for anyone I teach to slackline: keep your feet facing forward, and pick a focal point on the tree in front of you. (Advice I give to myself is, “Don’t get too excited, because then you’ll laugh and fall off.” Zen, young grasshopper).
The interesting thing I’ve realized over the years is this: the slackline doesn’t get any less wobbly as you improve. But YOU become more steady as you get better. When you watch an experienced slackliner, you can see the strap under their feet swinging from side to side, but miraculously, their top half stays upright and their balance remains.
As I was crossing the line that day, my feet practically vibrating from the wind shaking the line, my thoughts sounded like a yoga instructor. “I am balanced. I am calm. I am focused.” The tree in front of me. The Tree in front of me.
This is what it looks like to have peace. When the ground is shaking beneath your frame, you keep walking with your feet facing forward and your eyes focused on the Cross.
“Turn your eyes upon Jesus / Look full, in his wonderful face / And the things of earth will grow strangely dim / in the light of his glory and grace.”
When I finished crossing the opposite tree, I jumped down, to the unexpected sound of applause. I turned and saw a crowd of people, who had apparently stopped their movement on the bike path to see if the circus-looking girl with a tie-dye croptop, baggy black slacks, and a plaid mask would make it across the windy-wobbly line. Some passengers in the cars stopped at the Goldenwest red light were filming me out of their windows. While I was crossing that line, this great crowd of spectators did not make a difference to me. I was just focused on making it to my end point, that tree.
——
This month, Peace keeps finding me in the unexpected. All of my excitement about living on campus was nullified by an unshakeable fear and anxiety over living alone. Upon my arrival though, I have felt safety, security, and peace.
For more than a year, I’d been living in a bitter unforgiveness over a falling out with a close friend. In a turn of events too coincidental for me to even make up, we who had been avoiding each other ended up becoming next door neighbors. I’d felt the Lord calling me to reconciliation, but I was uncomfortable and scared. He forced us into proximity and said, “Go. Make Peace.”
January has been full of chaos, imbalance, disorienting change, and disillusioning stagnancy. Crowds formed at the Capitol this month, and we all held our breath to see how our democracy would make it to the other side. We are mourning the deaths of thousands of people, in LA county alone. We are worried about the vaccine; is it safe? will it be enough? And all of us are tired; we are tired in that way that your muscles shake when you take a step, and our eyesight is declining from staring at computers all day on zoom. Yet there is hope in our worry, comfort in our sadness, and peace in our instability. Keep your feet facing forward, eyes fixed on Jesus, and take steps, even if they’re wobbly. In the busy, loud, unsteady whirlwind of chaos, may you have Peace in the Lord. Shabbat Shalom,
-Marian
The More the Marianer 
Beautifully worded, Mare. Love you
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