A 48-hour shift

We just got back from Israel and when I say it was an incredible trip, I mean it. 

It was the kind of incredible where you take 9,000 photos of rocks because these are not just any rocks.  They’re rocks that heroes like David, Peter, and Jesus would have saw.  Rocks that fit into David’s sling, into a temple structure, rocks that shepherds would have sat on after a long day…

We walked where Jesus walked. We floated in the Dead Sea (and I really mean ‘floated’ as a few in our group nearly had to stay in the Dead Sea forever because they couldn’t even get their feet underneath them to stand up.) We prayed at the Western Wall. We worshiped on a boat sailing across the Sea of Galilee.  It really was an incredible trip.

There’s just something about standing in the places you’ve only read about that makes Scripture feel less like ink on a page and more like breath in your lungs.  I’ve said it before and will say it again – once you go to Israel, you will never read your bible the same way.

We came home tired, grateful, and already talking about when we could go back and bring others to experience the wonder in that precious country. I had barely taken a sip out of my first cup of morning coffee back in Georgia when the texts started rolling in.

War had broken out. I scrolled online and watched in disbelief as sirens were sounding in places we had just stood. Headlines were showcasing the same streets we had just walked and images all over the news portraying a place that felt impossibly disconnected from the peace we had just experienced 2 days earlier.

To be honest….Saturday felt jarring to me.  It had only been forty-eight hours since our group returned back in the states.  It was less than 24 hours from the time I had returned to Georgia with our twins.  That’s all it took for everything to shift.  For everything to change.

As I was scrolling in disbelief, trying hard to reconcile all of this in my head and my heart, it hit me…. This feeling doesn’t just come when rockets soar across the Jerusalem sky, this feeling often comes to my life in Georgia as well. In my life, I’ve found there is an extremely thin line between calm and chaos.  Things can change in just a moment and go from normal to uncertain, and I’ve been wrestling all day with just how fragile the peace that I often build my circumstances on, really is.

I grabbed my bible and was flipping through, trying to reconcile all of my feelings and frustration, and that’s when I came across Jesus’ words in John 14:27:

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

Notice what Jesus says….He says My peace I give you.

He doesn’t give us political peace, or circumstantial peace.  He doesn’t even give us “everything is going according to plan” peace. He gives us His peace.

The world gives peace when things are stable, but Jesus gives peace even when they’re not. The world says, “You can rest when nothing is shaking” but Jesus says, “You can rest even if it is.”

I think the timing of our return is humbling me and reminding me that my peace often depends on headlines cooperating, bank accounts behaving, and medical reports improving, and the unfortunate thing is that peace based on circumstances will always feel temporary.

Forty-eight hours have reminded me how quickly the ground can shift…but that Jesus never does.

Maybe you’ve never walked the streets of Jerusalem, but you’ve almost certainly lived your own version of 48 hours. You’ve experienced the unexpected diagnosis, the phone call you didn’t see coming, the job change, or the relationship strain. We’ve all had the moment everything felt fine…and then wasn’t.

We all know what it feels like for life to unexpectedly and suddenly change, and in those moments, Jesus doesn’t promise the absence of trouble. He promises Himself. He tenderly says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.”

The truth I want you to hear, and the truth I’m sharing with my own heart this morning is that peace isn’t automatic…It’s anchored.  Peace is a decision to trust that even when the world around me shifts, when things suddenly feel uncertain, the Lord is steady and sure.

Choosing His peace is remembering that the same Savior who walked those ancient streets that I walked on still rules and reigns today. It’s believing that if the tomb in that land is still empty…and it is because I saw it just this past week! …then my hope is not fragile.

I thought I went to Israel to see history, and watch my bible come alive for the days and years ahead. Instead, I came home with a lesson for right now. Peace isn’t found in stable ground. It’s found in a steady Savior.

And whether your world feels calm today or chaotic… whether your “reel” is full of highlight moments or headlines you didn’t want, just remember that His peace is still available. Not as the world gives… but as only He can.

And that kind of peace? It can survive 48 hours. It can survive uncertainty. It can survive whatever comes next.

So however you’re feeling this morning….if your life right now feels steady or shaken, hopeful or heavy… let’s all make the intentional choice to anchor ourselves in His peace. Let’s keep walking in His footsteps, even when the ground beneath us feels uneven.

And when fear starts to rise, let’s pick up the stones of remembrance He has scattered along our story. Let’s remember the answered prayers, the unexpected provisions, the moments that He carried us when we couldn’t stand on our own… and let’s allow them to remind us who He has always been, and always will be.

Because the same God who was faithful then is faithful now, and His peace is not fragile. 

I’m clinging to that truth today, and hope you are, too.