Shalom that Makes Me Whole

“Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth.
I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.”
Matthew 10:34

Dear Friends,

I’m disheartened that this verse came up in my Lenten reading for today because it makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I want to avoid and whistle past it—maybe find a different, more encouraging passage instead. It’s hard to believe these words came out of Jesus’s mouth. Isn’t Jesus known as the Prince of peace? Didn’t he also say “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God”? 

The word for peace is “shalom” which means whole, complete, harmonious. This kind of peace takes effort and intention. It doesn’t just happen on it’s own and it doesn’t stay without struggle. Shalom is gritty resistance to complacency and comfort. Shalom doesn’t allow things to stay the same and isn’t static. Shalom doesn’t keep the peace, shalom makes the peace. And if Jesus said the peacemakers are children of God, then making peace is revealing the character of God.

The word “sword” is used in the Bible in two ways: a dividing weapon and God’s eternal truth. Jesus wasn’t speaking about physical violence but I think he was speaking about a spiritual violence—a removal and division of what doesn’t belong. Sometimes the Lenten wilderness creates space to see certain patterns, behavior, habits that need to be cut off and removed from my life. I would rather avoid seeing or acknowledging my passive-aggressive words, my prejudices and bias towards others, my contempt over past choices, my pride that says I’m fine—keep the peace and continue forth in my comfort. The wilderness doesn’t allow me to stay the same. I cannot leave the wilderness with the same perspective as when I arrived. 

The wilderness has the capacity to confront me in my complacency and desire to sweep the wrongs I have done under the carpet. The wilderness cuts to the heart of it all and brings truth to my soul—the truth of my belovedness, yes, but also the truth of my brokenness in the midst of my belovedness. 

Peace that keeps me comfortable isn’t peace that makes me whole. And sometimes I have to allow the truth of God’s shalom to confront me, root out the parts of me I want to avoid or ignore, and allow God’s love to make me whole again. 

Sometimes the thing that divides is a catalyst towards what heals me and makes me whole.

With (love),
Bethany