5-25-25 “Peace the World Cannot Give”

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“Peace the World Cannot Give”

        I want to start with something funny that I found on a website: One Sunday morning, the pastor noticed little Johnny staring at the large plaque that hung in the church lobby. The pastor walked up and stood beside him, also gazing up at the plaque.

“Good morning, Johnny,” the pastor said.

“Good morning, Pastor,” Johnny replied, not taking his eyes off the plaque. “Sir, what is this?”

“Well,” the pastor answered, “these are all the people who have died in the service.” Soberly, they stood together, staring up at the plaque.

Then Johnny’s small voice quietly broke the silence:
“Which one, sir—the 9 o’clock or the 11 o’clock service?”

Today we gather with a mix of solemn gratitude and hopeful expectation. It is Memorial Sunday—a time to honor the men and women who gave their lives in military service for the sake of others. Their sacrifice reminds us of the weight of peace—the price paid to protect it, and the fragility with which it moves in our world.

And yet, as followers of Christ, we are given a promise of a peace that runs deeper than treaties or ceasefires—a peace that cannot be brokered by governments or destroyed by war. In today’s Scripture, Jesus calls it, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives.” So, what is this peace the world cannot give?

Jesus is speaking these words on the eve of His betrayal. The cross looms. He knew He would be betrayed by one of His beloved disciples, arrested by the religious leaders, and crucified. All of this would happen soon. The disciples, though unaware of the details, were already confused and afraid.

What if you knew when God would call you home to heaven? In other words, if you knew when you were going to die, what would you want to do?

Many people say, “When it gets closer, we may somehow know.” And perhaps that’s true. In both my personal and pastoral experience, I agree—there seems to be a quiet knowing when the time draws near. Let me share a few of those experiences.

Personally, I remember my mother’s last wish to me: “Go to America and become a pastor there.” She and I both experienced gender discrimination in a patriarchal family and society. She believed that America was a place of freedom for women, because she had been taught by an American missionary. Perhaps she sensed that her time was near, and she gave me this final wish as a blessing. She wanted me to go to a place where I could serve God freely. Then, she passed away on that night.

Another experience comes from my pastoral ministry just a few months ago. I have often visited our long-term church members who are staying in nursing homes. One parishioner, whom I began visiting about four years ago, initially recognized me as her pastor. But over time, she could no longer remember who I was. Still, she welcomed me with a smile and gentle gestures each time I came.

On that particular day, I walked with her in her wheelchair through the whole facility, visiting staff members and many residents—almost like a farewell march. As I held her hand to say goodbye, I said, “Take care—I’ll see you next time.” But she didn’t let go. She held my hand and quietly said, “I’m not sure I’ll see you again.” I reassured her, “Of course, I’ll come again and visit you.” But she simply replied, “Thank you for visiting me,” and gave me a big hug.

That was the last time we spoke. That night, she was moved to hospice care. I believe she knew—somehow—that it was our final visit.

Again, I ask, what if you knew when God would call you home to heaven?

Jesus, knowing His time was drawing near, speaks of peace. He says, “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.” This is the first truth: God’s peace comes from God’s presence. It is not the absence of conflict, but the assurance that we are not alone.

On Memorial Day, we remember many who walked into war with fear in their hearts but hope in something greater—a purpose, a love of neighbor, a call of duty. Many leaned on this very presence of God. The world gives peace that depends on external control—if the right powers are in place, if we agree on terms, if we can keep the upper hand.

But Jesus doesn’t trade in those kinds of contracts. He says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.” It is not earned. It is gifted. On this day, we honor those who gave the ultimate gift—their lives—for a peace they might never see. We recognize that kind of sacrifice as holy, even Christ-like.

And in doing so, we must also confront the challenge: to live in a way that honors that gift—seeking justice, mercy, and peacemaking in our daily lives. Jesus says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” He knew His disciples were afraid of the uncertainties ahead. He knew they needed peace—true peace. He wasn’t saying, “Don’t feel grief.” He wasn’t saying, “Don’t remember the cost.” What He was saying is this: Let remembrance give birth to courage. Let the memory of sacrifice remind us of the mission we carry—to love one another, to walk in truth, to carry peace into a broken world.

On this Memorial Sunday, we remember the fallen, not only with silence, but with action: a commitment to be people of peace in the way of Jesus. The world’s peace is temporary, fragile, and often shallow. It’s the quiet that comes between storms. It’s the kind of peace that depends on circumstances—if the bills are paid, if the children are okay, if the news isn’t too terrible today.

But Jesus offers a deeper peace—a peace that stands even when the storms rage. It’s the kind of peace that held Him steady as He walked toward the cross. That same peace is now given to us. This peace doesn’t deny trouble—it defies it. It doesn’t remove the valley—it walks with us through it. It is the peace of knowing that even in grief, we are held.
Even in conflict, we are not alone. And even in death, there is resurrection.

So again, I ask: What would you want to leave behind for your family if you knew God was calling you home? Please—share Christ’s love with them before it’s too late.

Thanks be to God. Amen.