We've all felt the crash that follows a sugar high—the emotional win, the reassuring word, the earthly success that lifts us for a moment before the bottom drops out again. Paul knew that feeling too, which is why he doesn't merely greet the Ephesians with good wishes but with something that doesn't fade: “grace and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”
When wise men arrive in Jerusalem asking where to find the one born king of the Jews, Matthew 2 says Herod was deeply disturbed—and all Jerusalem with him. It's a strange reaction to the fulfillment of a centuries-old promise, and it looks a lot like what we do when God's work threatens the status and stability we've been quietly building our joy around.
We keep wanting peace now—the right circumstances, the right outcome, the right person in charge—and that hunger is not wrong, just misdirected. In Luke 19:41–44, Jesus weeps over a city shouting for peace while blind to the only kind that lasts, and his tears raise an uncomfortable question about what we're actually seeking when we seek it.
What do the days we live in indicate? What should we truly be anticipating? As life and the uncertainty of the world swirls around us, God calls us to focus in our anticipation.
As we wait in anticipation we are called to two kinds of peace: the peace of following God’s ways and the peace of knowing His plan will come to fruition.
