“Dad, are you being a peacemaker?”

And just like that I was reduced to the truth! But, first, let me recount a story for you.

Many of us search our whole lives long to do what our ancient purpose has decreed for us to do. And until we’ve found that purpose, I believe, we meander through life completely without the meaning we need to sustain our life. God has been drawing me into my purpose over my lifetime, but most acutely over the past 16 years, and never more poignantly than over the past six years!

You see, I’m a peacemaker. Actually, according to Jesus, anyone who would be called a child of God is necessarily a peacemaker (see Matthew 5:9). The truth is people must see God in us before they’ll say, “You’re a child of God.” HOW they see God in us is through a direct correlation—we engage in peacemaking as an outworking of WHO we are. Today, I’m not only a peacemaker who people call a child of God, I have the honour and privilege of doing peacemaking for my work. Imagine the thrill of doing that which turns you on; that’s my reality.

Let’s get to the story.

I got to go interstate recently to help a colleague present at a Christian schools conference. I had to take an indirect flight and spent all day Sunday travelling to attend the conference on the Monday.

A number of things occurred that mirrored my unknown cause to anxiety on this trip. I arrived at the airport and realised that excess baggage tickets were required. I arranged that and then hurried to security only to realise my phone had gone! Instant panic… with laptop out and everything on trays and people behind me (though travel on planes excites me with a boyish joy, I do make an anxious traveller!) I attempted (unsuccessfully) to balance thoughts of which possessions mattered most—the ones I had on me or the one that had my entire life on it that could well have disappeared already. Fortunately, in paying the excess baggage, I’d left it with airline staff—I only had to prove who I was.

The first flight to another state went uneventfully other than me losing a key to my carry-on luggage, which I hadn’t stowed, and I only worked this out when I was en route to the third state on my second flight. It wasn’t the key. It was the key tag that was attached to the key—a precious keepsake of Nathanael’s life… LOST! I prayed that God might have it returned to me. I felt like crying. But being readied to touch down at my destination had me steel myself.

I arrived and was collected at the airport by a friend. But one part of the two items I’d checked in hadn’t arrived. It took 45 minutes at 8.30pm to discover it hadn’t been packed onto the second flight. The airline, however, were marvellous and worked through the night to get the box (full of resources for the conference) to us.

I arrived at my colleague’s place about 9.30pm in time to go to bed… the only trouble is I’m on earlier time; it’s 7.30pm for me. By this stage I needed some time to reconcile my day and happily let my marvellous hosts go to bed. I probably slept four hours, which is nearly but not quite enough for me—I operate better on six hours.

Getting up and ready and travelling to the event was a pleasant experience. Once we arrived at the venue there was some work required with the organisers to understand what we required—everyone happy. We set up our stall, displaying our wares—peacemaking resources for schools, for staff and students.

All was going well. I had a podium spot to fill that was slated at 5-10 minutes, part of which was a video that runs for nearly three minutes. The keynote speaker goes a few minutes over time, and you have to know this about me, my anxiety levels rose a little further. I had too much to communicate in three minutes, dove down a rabbit warren or two that I didn’t need to, and in effect felt I’d wasted the precious opportunity to compel the delegates that what we’re doing will help grow peacemakers for life. (I ‘processed’ this for about two or three days afterward.) I left backstage to go and support my colleague who was running a workshop for fifty people. She did so well! The workshop and some of the conversations redeemed the earlier disappointment. After this, however, after packing up and getting changed, I hit the wall. Spiritual attack cloaked in discouragement. It’s how it rolls for me.

On the flight home I watched the same movie I watched on the way over—Thunder Road. I didn’t realise until after I watched it the second time that it was a comedy. It seemed so sad. I felt it was almost autobiographical.

The flight was delayed, however. I arrived home at 9pm—four hours sleep in 40 hours. I normally sleep well anywhere, but not on this flight. My wife picked me up with our son, because there was nobody to be with him at home.

We arrived home and I was done! It’s like I had nothing left in the tank emotionally, but I did have enough in me to say and do some inappropriate things. Dropped my bags, kicked my shoes off, “I’ve had enough!” Words were exchanged between my wife and I—me being undisciplined (to be polite), my wife telling me to watch what I was doing and saying.

I tell you all this for this: I walked up to my son’s room, say goodnight, and he just looks at me in the eye and says, “Dad, are you being a peacemaker?”

There’s a moment right there where I couldn’t run. Like a deer in headlights. BAM!

“No, I’m not. I’m not being a peacemaker at all, am I?”

I called my wife to the room, apologised the best I could, and we hugged, all three of us.

For all the frustration and disappointment of that trip interstate, I’d do it all again to see the power of peacemaking work through a six-year-old.

With one sentence, with one humble and courageous question, with a heart of kind enquiry, my son brought me to the point of confession and repentance.

When people ask whether peacemaking for children works, I tell them this story.

Image taken of under my son’s bed, where he’s made a home for some of his favourite things.