Morning Prayer: Shannon Cook Choral Amen Hymn of Peace and Justice *God, In Our Church's Teaching* Witness of Scripture: John 14: 23-29 Anthem *Peace I leave with You* Felix Mendelssohn. Chancel Choir Sermon *The Peace Christ Leaves, He Gives!* Steve Graham
Recorded on May 25, 2025
The Peace Christ Leaves, He Gives The Good News Shared with the Beloved Community, First Christian Church, Norman, Oklahoma The Rev. Dr. Stephen D. Graham May 25, 2025 John 14:23-29 It was the final night of camp. The kids had finally settled down, and the youth ministers lingered on the walkway far too long, reluctant to let go of the night—or the week. Our marathon farewell ended with us lying on our backs, staring up at the stars. When the alarm sounded far too early, I groaned and wondered, “What were we thinking?” There were bags to pack, dorms to clean, luggage to load, and a long bus ride ahead. Yet we had spent half the night talking about our hopes and dreams. In retrospect, that late-night gathering was our own kind of farewell discourse. While it revealed our separation anxiety, it also served as a rehearsal for the future. We were practicing what it meant to carry the experiences of that week into the wider world. In essence, we were sharing peace with one another—peace that still blesses us to this day. Jesus said to the disciples, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you” (John 14:27). These were parting words infused with encouragement and preparation. The Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6) was gifting his followers with the very peace he carried in his own being. He knew their anxiety, stirred by the thought of his departure, and offered them this sacred gift for the journey ahead. That peace was not abstract—it was embodied in Christ, in the flesh of his own
being. And we, too, are recipients of that peace, passed down through the disciples and planted within our hearts. Many legacies are left but never truly given. Many inheritances never reach their intended recipients. I’ve spent years waiting on an inheritance that never came—though, I still check the mail, just in case. But Christ is the executor of his own will. The peace he leaves, he also gives. He does not withhold it. He imparts it fully. His parting words are like a dress rehearsal. “These things I have spoken to you…” (John 14:25). “You heard me say…” (John 14:28). “And now I have told you before it happens, so that when it does happen, you may believe” (John 14:29). Christ was rehearsing their wholeness—their well-being. I am grateful the Christian calendar marks Easter not just as a day, but as a season. A season that gives us time to absorb and live into the resurrection. We need space to reflect on how this world-shaking truth can take root in our own lives. A dear friend often says he's sick and tired of himself. He comes to worship hoping to encounter a new self—one shaped by Scripture, song, prayer, and proclamation. Worship is where he tries on the clothing of Christ, reciting the lines of new creation until they become his own. Worship is rehearsal for life as God's people. The goal of worship is not simply routine but transformation. Jesus offers peace even as the world resounds with anxious voices. He offers peace while we forget a war horse is a vain hope for victory, (Psalm 33). Stay up late if you must—stay up to remember the tender mercies that make life worth living. Worship, prayer, and study knead the grace of God into our daily lives. John Ruskin once said, “The primary reward for human toil is not what you get for it, but what you become by it.” Worship is rehearsal for becoming. And it is never a bad
time to change your mind—especially when doing so will enlarge your heart. In *The Heart of Christianity*, Marcus Borg explores the heart of Christian practice: • Practice is about attentiveness to God—nurturing the relationship, being intentional, valuing and enjoying it. • Practice shapes Christian identity. While culture promotes the 3 A’s—attractiveness, achievement, affluence—our faith reminds us we are created, beloved, accepted by God. • Practice nourishes us—through worship, Scripture, retreat, dreams, journaling. • Practice leads to compassion and justice—mirroring the heart of God. • Practice is walking the way of Christ, and that path requires community—a beloved community. Think of the beloved community as a fourfold church: the large gathered worshiping body; the intimate small group where you are known; your personal, daily devotional practice; and your private heart-to-heart walk with God. We need all four to live and grow in faith. Practice well-being. Rehearse peace, and the Spirit works through our discipline. Let us remember that peace is not simply the absence of conflict—it is the presence of wholeness, flourishing as God intended. The Hebrew word “shalom” carries this deep richness. When Jesus says, “My peace I give you,” he is not offering a momentary reprieve, but an enduring gift grounded in God's own nature. This peace is not passive. It is active, resilient, even defiant in the face of despair. Jesus didn’t give his peace after the resurrection—he gave it on the night of betrayal. That’s how powerful it is. His peace is not naïve. It knows pain. It walks through suffering. And it endures. This is why our practices matter so deeply. The church’s calling is not to win every argument or dominate every platform, but to be a sanctuary of this peace. A beloved
community where people find rest, renewal, and a radical welcome. That night beneath the Texas stars, we spoke of where we might be in thirty years. We were rehearsing what it meant to live under the mercy of God. Today, Randy’s in Virginia, Layne’s in South Carolina, Mike’s in San Antonio, Larry’s in OKC—and I am here, blessed to be among you at First Christian. We still seek peace that surpasses all understanding (Philippians 4:7). Several years ago, when our kids were small, we met with our families at Gulf Shores for Thanksgiving. One night we built a bonfire on the beach, and the kids gathered round it, getting to know each other. As we approached, Whitney, our daughter and Kristin, Layne and Dianne’s daughter, called out, “Thanks, guys! You’ve given us a great gift. This is unbelievable! We’re all preacher’s kids—and we know each other’s stories!” They were rehearsing their peace and what it meant for them to not only be our children, but God’s. They were working it out before it came to pass—so that when it came to pass, they might believe. As this school year draws to a close, may this be a day to step boldly into the peace of Christ and to venture out as children of God’s peace. We pray: O God, let us practice our well-being in Christ until his peace is known on earth. Amen.The Peace Christ Leaves, He Gives