the peace of being saved by story

We are a house on antibiotics.

Even so, Jack and I went on a a date last night- the first of the semester. We ate Mexican food and saw Argo. It was fine, kind of Apollo 13-ish. Over dinner Jack said, so let's talk about your blog post. This is the one he meant:

In Ezekiel, God condemns the false prophets who cry, “Peace!” when there is no peace.

Am I that false prophet?

My husband and I, we are peace-lovers by nature. We are quiet, we move slowly through ideas and emotions, we usually agree. We are far from perfect, but there is true peace in our household, even while I am stepping on legos , hands full of dishes , and Jack is playing chase the preschooler with the toddler riding on his shoulders.

We rent a house in a small town in the cornfields of the Midwest, cloistered in a Christian college community. We spend our evenings tired, writing songs, sewing scraps together, and watching far too much tv.

Sometimes I wonder: Do the daily routines of my peaceful life imply –falsely -that I live in a peaceful world, no battles left to fight? Have I created a life so protected that I can deceive myself into thinking that everything is alright?

Or does anything in my day point prophetically to the deep brokenness of our world, and to a great Healer? Does anything in my life acknowledge the global realities of war, famine, disease, persecution, and poverty, or do I live as if those things don’t exist?

Am I living a life that effectively proclaims “peace” when there is none?

I like to think that small things in my life do point to the realities of our broken world...

(Please read the rest over at my friend Suzannah's blog, where I am guest-posting for her 31 days of peace series.)