PEACE
When I was talking through my ideas for these Advent posts and in particular the story below, with my editor, aka my husband, he asked if he could write the blog on Peace. It was an easy yes because not only is it more his story than mine, but he is easily a better writer than me. So below is a story of experiencing peace by my Editor in Chief, the love of the life, the Father of our boys and a peacemaker in his own ways, my husband Will Vucurevich.
There is a very strange sense of peace that comes during seasons of exhaustion that makes us surprisingly aware of how burdened we’ve been, but didn’t even realize. Like taking a heavy backpack off after a long hike, we are aware of it, but only once it has been removed do we become fully conscious of how much lighter we feel. That is what peace felt like during the most broken season of our lives.
We were tired. Tired of progress-less meetings with therapy. Tired of emotional outbursts spiraling out of control. Tired of bedtime routines shattered by uncontrollable fear and tears and early morning insomnia. Tired of the numbness that comes from the potent cocktail of depression and anxiety.
Everything felt heavy. Every conversation was laden with the burden of “what do we do?” Every day marked by all the extra that comes with trauma. The things that aren’t typically shared when asked “How’s it going?”
We were struggling.
We felt defeated daily as we watched our boy being crushed by the weight of what happened. He couldn’t be alone. He couldn’t walk down the hall by himself. Our household was being strangled by fear.
We weren’t just tired, we were terrified. Our boy was saying things we never imagined coming out of his mouth. I see scary things in the house. I see them every night. I don’t want to live anymore. I want to die…
How does a parent deal with powerlessness? We couldn’t make it better. We tried everything we could think of to help our boy, but nothing worked.
We were desperate.
One night, as the fears and anxiety kept sleep away, he crawled into bed with me. I wrapped my arms around him and half-heartedly asked Jesus for wisdom. I had no words. I had nothing to offer.
I asked my boy if he’d like to try listening prayer again. We tried a few times over the previous weeks, but nothing. He didn’t hear anything, see anything, feel anything. We would just sit quietly together as I desperately begged the Spirit to do something, anything. Still, silence.
On this night, I was faithless, but desperate. Once again, we asked Jesus to speak, closed our eyes and listened.
As I peeked to make sure he was alright, I had no expectations. I looked up to see my boy’s eyes wide open, the beginnings of a smile curling the corners of his lips.
“He told me to just do it.”
I had no clue what this meant. My boy patiently explained to me how obvious it was. Jesus told him to “just do it.” Jesus told him to speak truth. To be brave and courageous and tell the whole story.
I am a seminary trained pastor and I don’t have the theological categories to fully explain what happened, but this is what I know: my son asked Jesus to speak to him. Jesus spoke to him and invited him to step out in faith. My son responded in obedience, and everything changed.
I don’t have the words to describe the immediate change in his body. He was stronger and more relaxed. His voice became more resolved. He slept peacefully that night. He could finally breathe deeply.
For the first time he told his therapist what had happened. Then, at his request, he went back to that office where we had gone before. This time he spoke the truth, truth that would lead to some justice. He bravely told a stranger what he had endured.
From the moment he heard Jesus speak to him he was calm, steadfast, determined to use his voice. He did it with peace.
Afterwards, we asked him what changed. “Jesus told me to do it, so I did.” That was it. No further explanation needed or offered. His child-like faith led our family to rest in the peace of Jesus for the first time in months.
This is the peace we are invited into during the desperate longing of Advent season.
“Peace be with you.”
Jesus says it, so we do it. We rest in peace despite the circumstances. Just as we remember Christ coming as a baby, sleeping peacefully in a manger. Just as we remember my child, sleeping peacefully because Jesus spoke to him and is with him.
The same can be true for us, we can find peace in these truths. Jesus came and will return. We have peace in the promise that He will return to restore all things back to the way they should be.
Peace be with you this Advent season.
~Will Vucurevich
Father is a title layered with complexity. Some of us have great fathers who love us and keep us safe. Others have had different experiences. Despite this reality, Isaiah describes the promised Messiah, Jesus, as an “Everlasting Father.”