The PEACE Inheritance

A few weeks ago, someone asked how I was doing with all the upheaval, pandemic-ly speaking. Travel halted. Speaking events evaporated, and with them, income. “Safe” meant distancing myself from my own children and grandchildren. We had doubled-up on our Sam’s Club purchases before the shelter-at-home advisories, so we were flush—if you’ll pardon the expression—with toilet paper and other necessities. And we lived hundreds of miles from the nearest hot spot at the time, but that didn’t mean we escaped its impact.

My introvertedness rose to the forefront. For the first weeks at least, I didn’t suffer from people withdrawal. But everyone’s life, schedule, routines, patterns, and income had been affected, even if their health and finances remained intact.

Overnight, it seemed, I’d been immersed in two grandsons’ virtual schooling experiences. Among other things, that meant plunging back into geometry and historical events like the Council of Trent, of all things.

My husband and I were in the middle of creating an open floor plan out of our many-small-rooms farmhouse, but because we HAD to stay home, the additional space still seemed inadequate for two breathing humans married to one another.

And every day brought news of more lives threatened, of family members on the front lines, of concern for friends far and wide, and a world-wide plunge into Uncertainty of epic proportions.

When my friend asked me to describe in a word or two how I was holding up, I heard myself tell her, “Irrational peace.”

All kinds of rufflings and rustlings churned on the surface, but underneath was an inexplicable, completely irrational (by culture’s standards) peace. Unshakable. Undeniable.

And indispensable.

My answer startled even me. It wasn’t anything I would dare boast about, because it wasn’t my doing. I hadn’t ordered it on Amazon or stockpiled it during a BOGO sale. I didn’t manufacture it in my craft room or stir up a fresh batch in my kitchen.

It was a gift.

Like sourdough starter.

God gave it to me and told me that if I tended it and fed it as instructed, it could last forever.

A bakery in San Francisco uses 160-year-old starter for its iconic sourdough. In 2019, tech developer Seamus Blackley baked sourdough bread from yeast harvested from 4500-year-old Egyptian pots. Nine years ago, an 83-year-old Newcastle, Wyoming woman must have thought her ceramic jar of 122-year-old sourdough starter was the longest continuously nurtured batch, but alas, no Guinness Book of World Records honors for her.

I have a hard time getting fresh strawberries to last more than a day before going bad. I can’t imagine the dedication it must take to keep sourdough starter “alive” for hundreds or thousands of years.

But it occurs to me that if I want—if I need—God’s peace when Uncertainty is the catchword of the day, the gift He gave will take careful tending. Keeping an eye on it. Bolstering it with the truths of God’s Word. Protecting it when it’s threatened.

“My peace I give you,” Jesus said, recorded in John 14:27. The NLT version reads, “I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.”

The Passion Translation says, “I leave the gift of peace with you—my peace. Not the kind of fragile peace given by the world, but my perfect peace. Don’t yield to fear or be troubled in your hearts—instead, be courageous!”

It’s as if He gave us an inheritance of peace sourdough starter that would last forever if we’d be careful to preserve it, feed it, not neglect it. He made it clear it’s not the kind of peace we can get on the shelves at Costco or order online. The world has found it impossible to manufacture or sustain, but Jesus has it in abundance and freely distributes it to all who ask.

What bubbled up in me the day I was asked to describe how I was handling all the concerns and upheaval and uncertainty that plagued and still plague so many was Jesus-style peace. A peace that is not ignorant of the dangers swirling around. It’s not denial. It’s not uncaring. But it does defy explanation and understanding.

“And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus,” reads Philippians 4:7 (ESV).

There’s no shortage of real peace, although anxiety levels have ramped up higher than ever and the mere word uncertainty threatens panic attacks in those not previously prone to them. But peace is available. You just have to know where to look.

My secret stash came from—feel free to copy and paste—Jesus. Take a closer look at the verse that precedes the description of the “passeth understanding” kind of peace. “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God,” Philippians 4:6 (ESV).

The world may call it irrational. I call that kind of peace indispensable.

And…essential.

(If you have a sudden hankering for sourdough, try this. Like peace, it takes some tending.)

Cynthia Ruchti tells stories hemmed-in-hope through award-winning novels, nonfiction, devotionals, and through speaking events for women and writers. She lives in the heart of Wisconsin with her grade school sweetheart husband, not far from their three children and six grandchildren. Her latest novel is Afraid of the Light from Kregel Publications. Her tagline is, “I can’t unravel. I’m hemmed in Hope.” Connect with her at www.cynthiaruchti.com.

Photograph © Aaron Burden, used with permission