"Peace" in the Upper Room

I want you to imagine Jesus – just the way you imagine Him – see Him in your mind’s eye with all the details that come along with that: the look of His clothing, the set of His shoulders, the look in His eyes, and on His face, as He leans closer to you. He is sitting in a room where, just a few minutes ago, He’d stooped at your feet and washed and dried them; now He’s been speaking to you, very directly. Something in His eyes says that all these words are a valediction – a sort of farewell – like a father preparing to make his final earthly departure. You find your heart confused; sad. Why is He suddenly taking on a tone like this?

Then His features soften; His eyes gloss over with tears. “Peace I leave with you,” He says, “my peace I give to you.” In the last three years of following after Him, you have seen the nature of that peace: scenes begin to occur to your memory. Of the crush of the crowds pressing against Him from all sides. Of the approach of Legion, the man possessed by a thousand spirits. Of the night before that: His waking, in the storm, and standing up against the gunwale and pronouncing “Hush” into the night. Of the constant attacks of the Pharisees and Sadducees. Of the rumors of the fury of Herod. Of the whispering of the authorities unto the Romans. Of the day, even, when He’d cleared the Temple.

The peace He is leaving you, His peace that He says He gives, is the most remarkable power you have ever seen. Jesus’ peace is not the absence of action – a vacuum where no problems may enter – it is a conquering force that dominates every situation. You have seen the way His peace can be as quiet as the light mellowing at dusk; you have seen it rise to confront all evil in its darkness. The peace that Jesus gives you, on this night, and forever, is the ability to abide in Him, no matter what. It’s the ability to conquer fear with love; hate with goodness; lack with abundance; death with life. Nothing can stand against the peace of Jesus.