Instrument of Peace: The World Does Not Change Simply Because We Do (Lectio Divina)

Lectio

Handwritten-style quote on peacemakers preserving peace of spirit and body despite suffering, attributed to Francis of Assisi, Admonition 15
Those truly are peacemakers — Francis of Assisi

“Those people are truly peacemakers who, regardless of what they suffer in this world, preserve peace of spirit and body out of love of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
Francis of Assisi, Admonition 15 (Francis of Assisi: Early Documents, vol. 1)

Meditatio

Every week, I attend and often lead an online Lectio Divina group in which we read a short piece of spiritual text, sit with that reading in silence, end the silence by praying the Our Father together, and then discuss what the reading and our time in silence brought up for us before closing out the session with another short reflection text read to the group. Last night, our initial reading included the so-called Prayer of St. Francis, a beautiful prayer whose anonymous French author in 1912 could not have anticipated that it would be claimed by a tradition not their own — and that the tradition would wear it so naturally.


“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy. O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; for it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.”
— Anonymous, La Clochette (Paris, 1912); traditionally attributed to St. Francis of Assisi


Every time I read, hear, or pray this prayer I am deeply moved by a longing to embody the fruits of its petition. I desire to be an instrument of the peace of Christ, to sow love, pardon, reconciliation, faith, hope, light, and joy in this world. I wish to be a consoler, an understander, a lover, a giver, a pardoner — a person whose false self dies so that my true self in Christ may live and, through Christ in me, others may come to know him and share in his glory. I truly hope and pray for these things, or I at least want to want these things, but last night the light of grace shone into some of the shadows of my desire — the darkness I hold in reserve, the conditions I have placed on my transformation in Christ.


In the silence of contemplation, as the prayer did its work in my heart, I realized that I have long held the belief that if I am transformed in the way that this prayer asks for, all of my relationships will be transformed as well; that if I embody peace, love, and forgiveness through Christ, the people around me, especially those closest to me, will come to know that same peace, love, and forgiveness as well. If I am made whole in Christ, my relationships will also be made whole. But beneath even that lay something more nakedly transactional: if I give myself in love to others, they will give themselves in love to me. In other words, I realized that I have placed conditions on my surrender to the love of Christ. I have given myself to God with expectations of earthly rewards, and with the desire for life to unfold in accordance with what I imagine to be best, rather than what God wills to be necessary.


A spiritual advisor of mine for many years used to say, “Our task is not to learn to live life on life’s terms. We did that when we were sinners. Our task is to learn to live life on God’s terms.” This is resurrection. This is new life. But even resurrection is preceded by crucifixion, and in the silence, grace crucified me again so that I may rise again.

I was praying, I came to realize, on life’s terms. But life does not necessarily change simply because we do. Our participation in God’s love and grace does not guarantee that others will open themselves to receive it. Jesus shows us this on the cross, and in the denials, betrayals, and abandonments that preceded it. His perfect love and perfect union with the Father did not soften the hearts of all who encountered him. In fact, in many cases, it did the opposite, hardening those who refused to be changed, inciting in them anger, hostility, and contempt. Love, even the perfect love of Christ, is forced on no one. It is a gift that must be freely and consciously received.


As the meditation bell rang and I was gently drawn out of silence, I was changed in ways I do not yet understand. This moment was but a seed of truth planted in what I pray is the fertile soil grace has tilled within me. But I was aware then and am aware now as I write this that there are still shadows within me that would keep these seeds from the light, and weeds that, if left untended, will choke out the seedlings before they bear fruit.

Original contemplative prayer poem on the heart's wandering desire and the sufficiency of God's love, set against a spare, meditative background
But I Forget by Robert Van Valkenburgh

Oratio

Your love, alone
is enough

but I forget

my heart wanders
desiring more
desiring other than you

but what is more
than enough?

what is more
than everything?

what is greater
than all in all?

Contemplatio

Is there someone whose anger, hostility, or contempt you have allowed to define you — and can you name, even now, the grace that named you first?


Related Scripture

“I have learned, in whatever state I am, to be content.” — Philippians 4:11 (NRSVCE)


For Further Reading

If you enjoyed this post, you may also like Not the Final Word: On Suffering, Brokenness, and Grace, which explores how the world’s brokenness does not get the final word over our lives — and how, in silence and stillness, something truer than our pain is revealed as grace holds us from within.


Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity.
Wrestling With God.
Returning To Love.

These are my own fears and insecurities, and my desires for peace and fulfillment from everyone and everything that is not God in ways that only God can provide. And his only promise is that he alone is enough — that as I die to the ways of the world and am resurrectedw in Christ, Christ will give me peace, comfort, and fulfillment even when the world gives me anger, hostility, and contempt. All of which I am free to receive as a verdict on who I am, or surrender to the qgrace that has already named me, from before I was formed in my mother’s womb until I am reunited forever with infinite Love — offering pardon to my persecutors as I have been pardoned by my Lord.


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2 responses to “Instrument of Peace: The World Does Not Change Simply Because We Do (Lectio Divina)”

  1. Gregory Acholonu Avatar
    Gregory Acholonu
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