Once upon a time, way back in your evolutionary family tree, our common ancestors used to go on a very particular kind of hike. A group of young males would hype themselves up, then trek out to the edge of their territory and pick fights. This isn’t Gangs of New York. It’s not Snoop Dogg’s Compton in the late 80s. These ancestors were chimpanzees. This behavior appears in one other species: humans.

Have you ever had a big change of plans? In that moment, did you feel peace? Or did a mix of frustrated, anxious, adrenalized energy wash over you? I’m guessing you might go with the energy option, which is a gift from your family tree.

Our plans shift constantly. Sometimes it’s a big life moment. Sometimes it’s just the chaos of getting out the door. Maybe it was that diagnosis that cracked your world open, yours or someone you love. Maybe you remember exactly where you were when the phone rang about a parent or grandparent’s death.

We remember where we were when JFK was shot. Or MLK. Or Columbine. Or Sandy Hook. Too many schools. Too many malls, churches, sanctuaries. Too many acts of violence shook us and bent our collective plans.

How do you respond when your peace is shattered? Do you sleep it off? Or find you can’t sleep for days? Do you sit in silence, or put on familiar movies or albums? And when the weight hits, do you talk to someone? Or do you cork it up inside?

Joseph’s plans changed. He was engaged to Mary. And then she told him he would be a father before the wedding. An angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and told him not to be afraid.

Now, angels in Jewish theology aren’t the default harp-and-halo crew. In Jacob’s dream of the ladder, the messengers go up from earth first, then back down with the message. They start here. They receive. They return. The Hebrew word malak simply means “messenger.” It’s used for humans and divine beings alike. It’s not about wings or radiance: it’s about the task they carry.

Joseph had a dream. And in that dream, a malak gave him what he needed for his fear to settle enough to take the next step.

You’ve done this too. When your plans changed, you had to change. It wasn’t pleasant. Maybe you still have the scars. But you’re here. You survived. Maybe a messenger found you. Maybe a dream, or a song, or someone’s words cracked open enough light to help you hope again.

Peace is an inside job. We can’t outsource it. When we do, things fall apart, and we watch that happen all around us.

If we outsource our peace to the news, we’ll never have peace. “If it bleeds, it leads” keeps us glued. Imagine if I preached, “The main point is coming!” and 30 minutes later, I was still promising it. I’d hope you’d offer some pointed feedback. Yet with our screens, we keep waiting for the main point. I don’t think it’s doing good things to our mental health.

If we outsource our peace to a friend or partner, we’ll never have peace. People disappoint. Not because they don’t care, but because they can’t read minds. Peace requires speaking and listening, and we’re not always great at either. Brene Brown gives me one reason why we can’t have peace. We feel our emotions at a 10 out of 10. We pay attention to them at a 5 out of 10. And we understand them a 2 out of 10. Let me say that again: we feel our emotions at a 10 out of 10. We pay attention to them at a 5 out of 10. And we understand them a 2 out of 10.[1]

If we outsource our peace to objects, we’ll never have peace. That’s idolatry. The Bible warns us all the time: don’t put your trust in a statue; it can’t hold your weight. And we’re watching a whole nation place its peace in weapons. If more guns created peace, we’d be drowning in peace by now. Instead, we’re drowning in grief.

Or think about that jolt of panic when you leave your phone behind, as if boredom were a mortal threat. You can leave your phone in the car. You can leave it on the charger. You’ll survive.

Last week Isaiah (Jesus’ favorite prophet) invited us up the mountain of the Lord to learn God’s ways and walk God’s paths. A vision of peace. Today we hear about a shoot springing from the stump of Jesse. The family tree of David and Solomon, cut down by Assyria and again by Babylon. Israel hauled away for decades.

Yet from that stump, something new. A hope that the poor will finally get justice. That predators will stop preying. That children will lead. Children who have an uncanny gift for naming what we refuse to face: “That’s not fair!”

Indeed. It’s not fair when the wealthy can buy justice while others go hungry. It’s not fair when innocent people are gunned down in schools, businesses, and places of worship. It’s not fair when we refuse to speak clearly, or refuse to listen, yet expect understanding to magically appear.

“No one will hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain,” says the prophet. “For the knowledge of the Lord will cover the earth.” That is a vision of peace.

Tradition waits for the Messiah to bring this to fulfillment. But what if we’re meant to take part? No one could do this alone. We must be ready. Because peace is an inside job. But it is not only an inside job.

When the Prince of Peace arrived, the world wasn’t ready. We killed him for saying, “Love God with everything, and love your neighbor as yourself.” We still crucify anyone who suggests that the people we’re comfortable dehumanizing might not be our enemies after all.

So maybe peace demands more. Maybe we need structures that support it. Maybe we need a vision that stretches us. Maybe we need a community to hold us, train us, and rehearse hope with us.

We must practice peace here. Train for peace here. Learn the inner steadiness that doesn’t vanish when chaos arrives — and when we lose that steadiness, borrow it from one another until we can stand again.

For me, that steadiness comes from love. Not the flimsy kind, but the kind that digs deep enough to hold you upright. Peace isn’t the same as rest, though they’re related. Peace isn’t the absence of conflict, but the way we move through it. Peace isn’t a destination. It’s a way of being. Peace resists the wiring of our chimp brain.

As Brené Brown reminds us, true peace is conscious practice; a grounded heart in the middle of the storm, choosing clarity, boundaries, and truth over panic and noise.

And here’s where all of this lands:
If peace is a practice, then this sanctuary is our gym.
If peace is a path, then this community is our trailhead.
If peace is a way of being, then we learn it together; step by step, breath by breath.

The world is aching for people who carry peace from the inside out. People whose calm can’t be bought by fearmongers. People whose courage isn’t outsourced. People who rise from the stump and become part of God’s new shoot.

May we become those people. May we be messengers of peace. May we practice it, protect it, and embody it. And may the world, bruised and weary as it is, catch a glimpse of hope through us.

Because there is no way to peace.
Peace is the way.
And the world is waiting for us to walk it.

Bibliography
Brené Brown. Atlas of the Heart: Mapping Meaningful Connection and the Language of Human Experience. New York: Random House, 2021.

Brown, Brené. How to Make Peace with People You’ll Never Reconcile With. YouTube video. Posted 5 months ago. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8bd8IZJZvZs.

Brown, Brené. “Protect Your Peace: How Saying Less Heals More.” YouTube video. Posted 4 months ago. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RVafb_igYtc.

Chopra, Deepak, M.D. Peace Is the Way: Bringing War and Violence to an End. Harmony, 2005.

Schmiechen, Peter M. Christ the Reconciler: A Theology for Opposites, Differences, and Enemies. Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1996.

[1] Brené Brown, Atlas of the Heart: Mapping Meaningful Connection and the Language of Human Experience (New York: Random House, 2021), “Stressed and Overwhelmed.”