The Peace that Surpasses all Understanding...

It is common in my faith tradition, and others, to cite Paul's words to the Philippians when we encounter people who are dealing with grief and other difficult situations. We pray that ourselves or others may encounter "The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding..."

These words have crossed my lips many times. And, many have said this in their prayers and words of encouragement for me. For this, I am very thankful. Please don't stop praying for this peace. This is not a criticism of the words or the prayers.

The problem is, on this journey of grief, when one finds themselves experiencing fleeting moments of this peace that surpasses all understanding, it doesn't feel right either. I know, crazy right?

I'm getting better at holding on to the peace when I find it. But, a typical day starts with waking up in an empty bed, the heart crushing reality of life kicks in the moment I'm aware of my consciousness. (Tiffany's friends/family and I used to joke that it was a good day if we didn't wake up crying. On a really good day, we'd make it to the shower before we started crying.) These days, I rarely wake up crying, I just wake up really bummed. I muddle through the day filling my time by working at the church or campus ministry, this helps keep me focused and keeps my mind off of being bummed. Working in ministry, working in the Kingdom of God, gives me direction. It doesn't mean I put on rose colored lenses and whistle my way through the day, quite the opposite, it's motivating work that often challenges me to examine and re-examine my life and my faith daily. When I'm not working, I'm either hanging out with or talking with friends and family on the phone. If I'm not doing that, you can find me shopping for books or hunting stuff.

The catch is, if I'm not keeping busy with the aforementioned things, and I find myself experiencing peace or not constantly thinking about Tiffany, I feel like something is wrong. I start to wonder if I'm allowed to experience this peace. I ask myself if I'm grieving enough. Obviously, the answer is yes, I'm allowed to experience this peace. And, yes, I am grieving enough. Lord have mercy, am I grieving enough...

I'm told by one of my grief counselors* that this is not only grief, but also a touch of survivor's guilt. He would describe grief working much like this, "You find yourself standing on the beach with your back to the ocean, you're enjoying the sun and the water ebbing and flowing at your feet. Then, out of nowhere, a large wave comes in and knocks you face first into the sand. Didn't see that one coming. You pick yourself up, spit out the sand, dust yourself off, and go back to enjoying the sun and water until the inevitable takes you by painful surprise again..." I find this to be true. I would go on to add that this survivor's guilt would work into the illustration by making you feel compelled to throw yourself down into the sand from time to time. You don't want to, but if you haven't been hit by a wave recently, you start to think that something is wrong with the natural order and into the sand you go...
If you haven't experienced it, it's hard to understand.

This is where "the peace that surpasses all understanding" comes in again. I believe this peace is something that God truly does place in my heart when I experience it. It's a peace that can only come from God, because let's face it, I can't find it on my own. The funny thing is, I'm the one who tries to understand it. I try to make sense of it. I try to be logical.
What did I miss about it being a peace that SURPASSES ALL UNDERSTANDING?

Why do I try to understand it? Because I'm a rational and logical person. I hold the teachings of Jesus Christ very near and dear to my heart, and I try to live them out. But, when it comes to these articles of the faith that are mysterious and beyond comprehension I can be like a child throwing a tantrum. I want to understand, I want to know, I want to be able to explain it. Instead, I'm left filled with awe and mystery. I've seen the word made flesh, I've felt the Holy Spirit moving, but I can't always point to it and say "there it is, everything is going to be fine now." I've felt the peace that surpasses all understanding, God's Shalom, but I want to know that it's okay to feel it. I guess if the situation were reversed and I spent all my time experiencing peace and then thought it was weird when I felt intense grief, I would really be "off my rocker".

As time goes by, I'm learning more and more that it is okay to embrace this peace when I encounter it. In the early days, I would all but reject it. Then I had some really bad days, and I learned that it's okay to experience some peace from time to time. It's weird, and it doesn't always feel right, but I guess that's why it surpasses all understanding. I will continue trying to submit to the mystery. And, I know that my beautiful wife would want me to find some peace in life.

Please continue to pray for the the peace that surpasses all understanding. But, if you ever find me walking around in a constant state of euphoric peace, I've found a way to lie to myself, slap some sense into me.

Grace and Peace,
Robert

(*Luckily, when you work in ministry, you have lots of colleagues who have various amounts of training/experience with grief and grief counseling. Aside from my colleagues I see and speak to regularly, I've been seeing my former Chaplaincy Supervisors at the hospital monthly for some grief discussion/counseling.)