The Results of a Peace-making Strategy

Back to the saying of Jesus: If you and I are willing to be active peacemakers, what is the promise? “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.” That phrase “children of God” in the original language describes an adjective which in this case literally means “Godlike.” The theologian John Broadus put it this way: “There is no more Godlike work to be done in this world than peace-making.”

In other words, we are never more like God than when we are joining Him in initiating and mediating His peace to the brokenness in our world. And how did God do that? By identifying Himself completely and totally with the people He was trying to bring peace to – humanity. By becoming one with broken and alienated and conflicted people, God was able to bring reconciliation and wholeness. That’s the story of Jesus.

When you and I recognize and acknowledge our common humanity with each other—that we are all in the same boat, no one better than another, each one in need equally of shalom, peace, wholeness, completeness, love and grace—we are empowered to love and accept each other more unconditionally than before. Accepting the truth that we are all children of God (making us all brothers and sisters in the same human family) strengthens our resolve and ability and desire to be peace-makers like Jesus and the God of Jesus. This activity, says Jesus, is the evidence that we are indeed children of God. Jesus promises that the God of peace will join us in this divine work. The peacemaker never makes peace alone. God is always there empowering this divine action. And those who are willing to engage in this Godly behavior will be “blessed”—which literally means that “joy” will be the experience for them—a powerful and sometimes mysterious transcending of pain and suffering as evil is redeemed for good.

There was an article in the newspaper several years ago titled, “Ordinary Folks Find Peace in Extraordinary Act.” It told several stories of people who were able to find it within themselves to forgive those who had hurt them in painful ways. One of the stories was of Walter Everett, a United Methodist pastor in Hartford, Connecticut.

Walter’s shock at the murder of his 24-year-old son Scott turned to rage when the killer plea-bargained his way to a five-year sentence. When the killer, a drug addict named Michael Carlucci, was sentenced, he looked over at the Everett’s and said, “Although they must sound like empty words to you, I am sorry for what I’ve done.”

Everett’s friends dismissed the remorse as a ploy for leniency, but Walter Everett was moved. On the anniversary of his son’s death, Walter decided to write a letter to Carlucci. He talked about his family’s suffering and said, “The pain is almost unbearable. And I cannot accept one person having so little regard for another.”

But then he wrote, “Although words seem so trivial in some ways (yet they are all that we have now), I do accept your apology, and as hard as these words are to write, I add: I forgive you.”

Those words, Walter said, became a turning point for him. “I felt a terrible, heavy burden lifted from my shoulders. It was the beginning of healing for me.”

But it wasn’t the end. His wife divorced him because she just couldn’t understand his forgiveness. And then anger and resentment returned to him when he discovered, a few months later, that Carlucci had been transferred from a maximum- to a medium-security prison.

But Walter decided to go visit Carlucci anyway. They were engaged in small talk when Carlucci suddenly reached over and embraced Walter. Through tears, Carlucci said, “I’ve never been forgiven by anyone before.” Walter wept, too.

Through Walter’s courageous and gracious initiative, a relationship began. In 1994, Pastor Everett officiated at Carlucci’s wedding. Here’s what Everett says now: “When I look at Mike, I don’t see a man who murdered my son. I see a man who is forever changed by God and who is a part of my family. And I celebrate that.”

No one can tell Walter Everett that it’s easy being a peacemaker. But no one can tell him it’s not worth it, either. It takes guts. It takes grace. It takes God’s love. But for God’s children, peace is always worth the price. After all, there is no personal liberation and deliverance or relational “shalom” without it.