Finding Peace

On the night of this past July 6, when my little boy was almost exactly 2 1/2, I finally discovered what soothes him when he's distressed, in pain, or sad (not tantruming, mind you--that's another story). We were in the car driving to the airport to pick up my husband from his band's high-profile gig in Canada, where they had been asked to play for the U.S. Embassy's Independence Day gala. It was about 11:00 p.m. The plane had been scheduled to land at 6:30 p.m., a perfectly reasonable time for a toddler to be in the car. Delays had changed those plans, and I had unfortunately had to put my sleeping son in the carseat at 10:45 p.m. and drive the 45 minutes to pick his daddy up. I was praying that he would be able to sleep fine in the seat for that time, but those prayers were not to be answered.

The poor little man woke up fully by about 10 minutes into the trip. He began to whimper. Then he began to cry. Then the wailing started. All my soothing words fell on deaf ears. But then something (the Holy Spirit?) told me to sing "Jesus Loves Me." And I began, softly and tenderly to sing: "Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to him belong. They are weak, but he is strong. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me, for the Bible tells me so." By the time I got to "little ones," my son had stopped crying. When I got through the song, he said: "Sing it again." By the middle of the next round, I could hear him singing with me, his sweet little voice chiming in a "Jesus," or a "me" or "strong" here and there.

I recently received, not for the first time, an e-mail story about a retired pastor in his 90's who returned to preach at a church he'd served for decades. Instead of a sermon, he told the congregation that, of all the messages he'd preached as truth and of all the things he'd learned in seminary and ministry, the one truth with the most value was "Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to him belong. They are weak, but he is strong. Yes, Jesus loves me..."

Here is the truth: every day I sit with people who are dealing with chronic illness, or who are facing death. Every day, we all see news stories about people around the world who are suffering. Every day, pastors everywhere counsel people whose families are falling apart, for whom addiction is a demon, or who face abuse or trauma. Every Sunday, I preach to a sea of faces, faces of people whose loved ones are at war, who are grieving the loss of parents, who are widowed, who are trying to figure out how to deal with rebellious teenagers, who are confused or afraid or lonely.

Sometimes in our lives, as we whimper or cry or wail at our reality, we simply need to listen to hear the voice that sings "Jesus loves me..." Sometimes in life, we are the crying toddler. The Lament Psalmists came before us as those who suffered, and they give us permission to join them, as they cried out to God while also acknowledging that they knew the Lord was there, heard, cared, and would give them strength and peace in the storm. As the secretary of one of my churches has posted by her desk: "Sometimes the Lord calms the storm. But sometimes the Lord lets the storm rage, and calms His child."

And sometimes in our lives, when we have peace, we are called to be like the mom I was in the car, singing it for others to sooth them and dry their tears. Maybe they will join in the singing with their sweet voices, too. Always in life, we can rest in the truth that because "Jesus loves us" (all of us), Christ will get us through the valleys of the shadow of death and will lead us to still waters and green pastures. May those of us who know Jesus' love always be singing about it for ourselves and others. May this be the way we find peace, for us and for the world.