Blessed are the Peacemakers
Loved ones,
This week carries the weight of profound grief - from remembering 9/11's 24th anniversary to mourning Charlie Kirk's assassination, the stabbing of Ukrainian refugee Iryna Zarutska on a Charlotte train, and another devastating school shooting in Colorado. Unlike that September morning when we gathered around televisions to process collective trauma, today's violence floods our phones within minutes - high-definition horror we can't avoid, can't unsee, can't forget. Psychologists now describe this as our "digital morgue," where we doom-scroll past carnage between coffee and text messages, experiencing what they call vicarious trauma - PTSD-like symptoms from witnessing endless suffering through our screens. Each headline reminds us that we live in a world desperately bereft of peace. Yet Jesus doesn't call us to be peace-wishers, but peacemakers—those who actively step into the brokenness with divine purpose.
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God" (Matthew 5:9) isn't a passive beatitude; it's a call to holy action that reflects our Father's heart for the world.
Biblical peacemaking requires courage to enter conflict rather than avoid it, wisdom to speak truth in love rather than remain silent, and strength to stand between the wounded and those who wound. Like our Lord who "made peace through the blood of His cross" (Colossians 1:20), we're called to costly involvement - checking on Young Adults traumatized by video of Charlie Kirk's murder, walking alongside grieving families in our neighborhood, standing with the marginalized before they become tomorrow's headlines. Peacemaking means having difficult conversations about forgiveness, initiating reconciliation where there's division, and sometimes physically placing ourselves between harm and the harmed. It's the grocery store manager who de-escalates angry confrontations, the neighbor who mediates property disputes before they explode, and ordinary believers choosing to engage rather than retreat when tension fills the room.
In our age of digital overwhelm, being a peacemaker means recognizing that behind every video, every headline, every notification is a real person in real pain who needs real help.
Jesus illustrated this active peacemaking through the Good Samaritan, and here's what haunts me: when the priest and Levite saw the man who "fell among robbers, and they stripped him and beat him, and went away leaving him half dead" (Luke 10:30), they "passed by on the other side" (Luke 10:31-32). They saw the same carnage that fills our newsfeeds - real blood, real violence, a human being destroyed – and they chose to look the other way. The Samaritan saw it too, but he was interruptible. He stopped, engaged, and invested his time, resources, and reputation to bring healing. In our world of endless violent images, we face the same test daily: will we let vicarious trauma paralyze us, or will we let it propel us into action? Will we be too busy, too protected, too comfortable to be bothered? The wounded lie all around us - in broken marriages, fractured friendships, traumatized communities - and the question isn't whether we see the carnage. We all see it, more than any generation before us.
The test is what we'll do about it.
As we gather tomorrow to worship the Prince of Peace, let's acknowledge the unique burden of living in this digital age of violence while refusing to let it define our response. Yes, our phones have become windows to the world's worst moments. But we serve the same Christ who transformed history's greatest act of violence into history's greatest act of peace, and He calls us to be His active agents of shalom - not despite the endless stream of violence, but because of it. The darkness flooding our screens is real, but we carry the light of Christ - not hidden under a bushel but raised high as we step into the hurt, the hatred, and the hopelessness with healing in our hands and the gospel on our lips. May we be known not as those who merely scroll past suffering or lament violence from a distance, but as those who actively wage peace with the same determination others wage war.
I know we're all feeling this collective pain deeply - so let's transform it into collective action, one courageous act of peacemaking at a time, bringing God's kingdom peace to The Woodlands, Montgomery County, and beyond.
This week carries the weight of profound grief - from remembering 9/11's 24th anniversary to mourning Charlie Kirk's assassination, the stabbing of Ukrainian refugee Iryna Zarutska on a Charlotte train, and another devastating school shooting in Colorado. Unlike that September morning when we gathered around televisions to process collective trauma, today's violence floods our phones within minutes - high-definition horror we can't avoid, can't unsee, can't forget. Psychologists now describe this as our "digital morgue," where we doom-scroll past carnage between coffee and text messages, experiencing what they call vicarious trauma - PTSD-like symptoms from witnessing endless suffering through our screens. Each headline reminds us that we live in a world desperately bereft of peace. Yet Jesus doesn't call us to be peace-wishers, but peacemakers—those who actively step into the brokenness with divine purpose.
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God" (Matthew 5:9) isn't a passive beatitude; it's a call to holy action that reflects our Father's heart for the world.
Biblical peacemaking requires courage to enter conflict rather than avoid it, wisdom to speak truth in love rather than remain silent, and strength to stand between the wounded and those who wound. Like our Lord who "made peace through the blood of His cross" (Colossians 1:20), we're called to costly involvement - checking on Young Adults traumatized by video of Charlie Kirk's murder, walking alongside grieving families in our neighborhood, standing with the marginalized before they become tomorrow's headlines. Peacemaking means having difficult conversations about forgiveness, initiating reconciliation where there's division, and sometimes physically placing ourselves between harm and the harmed. It's the grocery store manager who de-escalates angry confrontations, the neighbor who mediates property disputes before they explode, and ordinary believers choosing to engage rather than retreat when tension fills the room.
In our age of digital overwhelm, being a peacemaker means recognizing that behind every video, every headline, every notification is a real person in real pain who needs real help.
Jesus illustrated this active peacemaking through the Good Samaritan, and here's what haunts me: when the priest and Levite saw the man who "fell among robbers, and they stripped him and beat him, and went away leaving him half dead" (Luke 10:30), they "passed by on the other side" (Luke 10:31-32). They saw the same carnage that fills our newsfeeds - real blood, real violence, a human being destroyed – and they chose to look the other way. The Samaritan saw it too, but he was interruptible. He stopped, engaged, and invested his time, resources, and reputation to bring healing. In our world of endless violent images, we face the same test daily: will we let vicarious trauma paralyze us, or will we let it propel us into action? Will we be too busy, too protected, too comfortable to be bothered? The wounded lie all around us - in broken marriages, fractured friendships, traumatized communities - and the question isn't whether we see the carnage. We all see it, more than any generation before us.
The test is what we'll do about it.
As we gather tomorrow to worship the Prince of Peace, let's acknowledge the unique burden of living in this digital age of violence while refusing to let it define our response. Yes, our phones have become windows to the world's worst moments. But we serve the same Christ who transformed history's greatest act of violence into history's greatest act of peace, and He calls us to be His active agents of shalom - not despite the endless stream of violence, but because of it. The darkness flooding our screens is real, but we carry the light of Christ - not hidden under a bushel but raised high as we step into the hurt, the hatred, and the hopelessness with healing in our hands and the gospel on our lips. May we be known not as those who merely scroll past suffering or lament violence from a distance, but as those who actively wage peace with the same determination others wage war.
I know we're all feeling this collective pain deeply - so let's transform it into collective action, one courageous act of peacemaking at a time, bringing God's kingdom peace to The Woodlands, Montgomery County, and beyond.
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