“The [Benedictine] monks went into barbarian areas to evangelize, and if the barbarians killed them off, the mother house would send more brothers out. Slowly, these men laid the ground for the rebirth of Christian civilization in the West,” Rod Dreher.
“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home,” Edith Sitwell.
There is a warm feeling in the frosty cold. Oxymoronic, I know. A chill allows me to wrap a blanket around myself, snuggle a grandchild closer, warm the kitchen with sweets from the oven.
Warm cookies and hot tea. Maybe a movie. Or a great book. Maybe a circle or two around the park on my skis. Swish, swish and an occasional car going by.
Peace. Sounds nice, doesn’t it? Even those who know me best don’t always realize my yearning to be home. To be in quiet. To feel the warmth of my own hearth. But:
“Can a man who’s warm understand one who is freezing?” Solzhenitsyn asked.
The world swirls around us in chaos and violence. We can find peace if we shut it all out. We can stay home. We can grab onto peace and not let go.
We are called to peace. But we are not called to dwell in silence. We are called to the barbarian world.
We are called to the world of shootings in Quebec. The world of police suicides in Chicago, a city of many shootings. A city that has lost hope.
And we are called to the arguments of our day.
We are called to be the voice of peace and reason. To take our peace to the chaos. To take Him to the lost and shouting.
I would rather stay inside and sip tea. Shut out the noise and disharmony. But that’s not my purpose, my calling. There are seasons even within a day. There’s a time for peace and tea. But it is seldom all day, every day.
There is a time to go out into the world and speak truth. But to speak truth in love.
If you are His, it is your call too. Go. Take your peace with you. And spread it like seed.
Restoring the Shattered
