We gather here today in response to Christ’s peace

that draws our eyes upward

like birdsong and rainbow against a storm-dark sky,

promising an end to destruction.

 
Despite the interminable warzones we shrug must always be so;

Despite the seething culture wars boiling over into our own streets;

Despite our clenched fists, anxious minds, and overburdened hearts;

Despite our frustrated relationships and hard-wired wariness, we come.

 
We come because of all these things,

believing that our inner chaos can be rightly ordered,

that wrongs will be righted, that wars and fears shall cease,

that a day will come when we will no longer live by the sword or die by the gun.

Jesus help our unbelief.

 
We gather in the name of the savior who is our peace,

a peace beyond fleeting distraction,

beyond the suppression of hostility.

A more perfect peace we glimpse

from the zone we enter when we run, when we bike,

when we read, when we create.

Peace resonating after the choir’s last chord.

Peace with God and with ourselves.

Well-placed trust in friends and harmony with enemies,

smiles from strangers and the company of those who love us.

All the world’s children tucked safely into beds,

Falling snow framed in a picture window,

and the time to watch it fall,

mug in hand, good things baking in the oven.

The smell of a forest in its prime, clearing the air,

The trickle of snowmelt, reviving the earth.

Peace running like a warm bath at the end of a hard day,

when all has been done and done well.

 
We are God’s people.

We light this candle as a sign of God’s peace

who comes to us in the fullness of time

and makes a home among us.

O come, Immanuel.