Articles
Dec 14, 1997 - 4 MIN READ

Peace Quest

Dave Faust

Trivial Pursuit may be a clever name for a game, but it's a terrible way to live your life.

Pursue trivial things? Why, even a hamster can do that: eat, sleep, go around in circles. When my life on earth is over, I don't want my epitaph to read: "Dave Faust—he ate, he slept, he went around in circles."

Do all those people crowded into the mall this month realize they're on a peace quest? All of us need a gift God alone can unwrap for us—a right relationship with him and with others.

Frankly, when you think about the pace and demands of daily life, peace can seem elusive and unrealistic. Peace sounds like a leisurely walk through falling snow, but real life is more like running a footrace on ice. Peace sounds like quiet evenings by the fireplace with a steaming mug of hot chocolate in one hand and a good book in the other; but in real life there are problems to solve, phone calls to answer, sicknesses to endure, and daily demands that leave little time for quiet reflection. Lately, has your daily routine felt more like Psalm 23 (green pastures, quiet waters, led by the Lord); or Psalm 22 (poured out, dried up, distant from the Lord)?

Where can we find the missing peace? If we could find it in material things, why does a sense of emptiness still remain after the shopping sprees end and gifts are unwrapped? If we can find peace in human relationships alone, why do we feel so much anxiety about holiday get-togethers and so much sadness when loved ones leave? If peace comes from personal achievement, why are we left with a nagging sense of unfulfillment even after we've graduated from school or reached some other milestone?

On a bookshelf near my desk, I keep a photo my wife took a few years ago when our family vacationed in Wyoming's Grand Tetons. In the picture, I'm standing with my son and two daughters on a sandy beach near beautiful Jenny Lake, surrounded by evergreens with a snowcapped mountain peak in the background. It's a peaceful picture—the splendor of God's creation, the love of my family. But soon after the photo was taken, our vacation ended and we returned home to the real world of work and bills and smog and stress—and I'm left with a nice photo, some pleasant memories, and the not-so-pleasant realization that most of daily life isn't a casual hike by a mountain lake.

Is peace merely an illusion—a tantalizing but unreachable dream? Or do we just look for it in the wrong places?

Jesus told his disciples, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid" (John 14:27). Jesus' words couldn't be plainer: in this world we will have trouble, but in him we have peace (John 16:33). That's the key: in him. When prophets foretold the Messiah's birth, they called him the Prince of Peace whose "greatness will reach to the ends of the earth. And he will be their peace" (Isaiah 9:6; Micah 5:4, 5). His kind of peace isn't something we can boil down, figure out, reduce to a formula, or write a how-to book about. The peace of God "transcends all understanding" (Philippians 4:7), and springs fruit-like from a Spirit-filled life (Galatians 5:22, 23).

God gives us glimpses of peace in healthy friendships, satisfying jobs, colorful sunsets, relaxing holidays, and quiet evenings by the fireplace. But in the long run, we won't find it in our possessions or our parties, but in the Person whose birth caused the angels to sing.

This column first appeared in The Lookout on Dec 14, 1997.

© Dave Faust 1970