|
WHAT A SAVIOR! #18
POOR RICHARD THE PEACEMAKER
It was often remarked on in 2003 – when America and
a number of allied nations entered Iraq to oust Saddam Hussein from power
– how President George W. Bush and Prime Minister Tony Blair saw eye-to-eye
so consistently. Labour PMs generally prefer to collaborate with Democratic
chief executives, and Republican residents in the White House secretly
root for Margaret Thatcher-types from the Conservative Party to win elections
held in England. “Strange bedfellows,” all the peaceniks grumbled, as
the two nations marched off to war.
We found it interesting to get into our time machines and scoot back 223
years to a cold November in 1781. In Yorktown, Virginia, American and
French artillery were bombarding the Redcoats with such intensity that
when General Cornwallis sent a drummer out to beat out a surrender signal,
nobody heard him! But finally, the bloody Revolutionary War was over,
and it was time to reconcile.
In his marvelous 2003 biography, Benjamin Franklin: An American Life,
Walter Isaacson describes the hugely complex issues that had to be settled
between this new virgin nation across the Atlantic and its embittered
former host country: England. Franklin was already stationed in France,
having spent the war years there representing America’s interests. So
it made sense that he would handle the bulk of the delicate negotiating
on behalf of his adopted homeland.
What made it so complex was that America had formerly begged France to
join in the conflict and help the colonies win their independence. That
was largely a Franklin masterstroke too. But now complicating matters
was that, in order to get generals like the 22-year-old genius, Lafayette,
America had sworn that after the war it would only settle with England
in concert with France. So Franklin was bound to keep Paris’ foreign minister,
the Comte de Vergennes, “in the loop” in all negotiations.
Another sticky wicket was that England was offering up two different peace
negotiators: a Thomas Grenville, representing one branch of government
in London, and also a Richard Oswald. Both were eager for this diplomatic
“feather in the cap,” and so they outdid each other in offering concessions.
“Franklin had a lot of leverage,” writes Isaacson in describing the delicate
maneuvering.
What muddied up the Thames River even more was that America had also dispatched
John Adams to help sew up the fabric of this newly won freedom. Adams
would later succeed George Washington and serve as America’s second President.
His son, John Quincy, and Franklin’s grandson, Benny, were attending the
same academy over in Geneva. But the plain truth was that Adams, 30 years
younger than the senior statesman from Philadelphia, didn’t get along
well with Franklin. Adams was a plain, strict, hardworking politician.
Franklin would sit around till all hours sipping Madeira with his European
pals; he was a shameless, and maybe promiscuous, flirt. His was a life
of “continual dissipation,” Adams grumbled into his diary. The only thing
Dr. Franklin was ever on time to was dinner. On matters of substance,
John Adams opposed keeping the French involved in this endgame of reconciliation;
Franklin, while seeing the advantages of crafting a separate peace, realized
the value of showing gratitude and honoring past commitments. Adams was
a realist; Franklin, the eternal idealist.
Somehow, despite all the back channels, the winks and nods and pitting
one player against another, Adams and Franklin and the other powdered
wigs in the room did manage to forge a somewhat lasting peace, and on
November 30, 1782, more than a year after Yorktown, the American negotiators,
accompanied by recording secretary Temple Franklin – who had a pretty
famous grandpa there in the room – sat down with the British at Paris’
Grand Hotel Muscovite to sign the papers.
And now we ask the hard spiritual question. What is it that brings peace,
brings reconciliation? How do former enemies manage to finally sit down
at the same table and agree that from now on there will be tranquility,
not temper tantrums, brotherhood, not bombs and bullets?
One way is to simply beat the stuffing out of someone else on the field
of battle. A year earlier, General Cornwallis had just found himself hemmed
in. George Washington had eleven thousand troops there in Yorktown, plus
nine thousand soldiers from France joining him. Lafayette, the boy general,
whipped a second task force in underneath Cornwallis’ southern flanks,
cutting off that avenue of escape. And just in the nick of time, the French
navy sailed into the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay. All of a sudden, white
flags began looking pretty good to Lord Cornwallis.
But a better peace comes when men and women of goodwill realize that they
are united by something far larger and more noble than the things that
might split them apart.
True, Adams and Franklin didn’t like each other much. They got on each
other’s nerves. On the other hand, they were both ardent patriots. They
both believed fervently in freedom, in liberty of conscience, in an eradicating
of religious tyranny. They had both embraced the Declaration of Independence.
They both wanted America to be that fabled “shining city upon a hill.”
Isaacson relates how at one point in the contentious debates, Franklin
leaned over and confided to his rival and friend:
“‘Blessed are the peacemakers’ is, I suppose, to be
understood in the other world, for in this they are frequently cursed!”
Well, this has been a colorful history lesson, but
friend, we’re supposed to be winding up a radio miniseries entitled WHAT
A SAVIOR! Where is Jesus in all this, except as the author of “Blessed
are the peacemakers”?
The Bible tells us that Jesus is unique at bringing reconciliation. In
His teachings. By His example. In mandating that grace and forgiveness
were the hallmarks of the Christian faith. “Be reconciled to one another,”
He said to His followers. Most of all, by His own death on the cross.
Colossians 1:18-20 says:
“God was pleased to have all His fullness dwell in
[Jesus], and through Him to reconcile to Himself all things, whether things
on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through His blood shed on
the cross.”
So the war of rebellion between us and God the Father
is resolved at Calvary. Not that God ever changes HIS mind, but we are
won back to the Father as we witness the gift at the Cross.
We also find that swords should be bent into plowshares amongst ourselves
– and again, because of the ministry of Jesus. Christ’s beautiful prayer
on behalf of His brothers and sisters in the faith, recorded in John 17,
has Him pleading with the Father:
“May they be brought to complete unity to let the world
know that You sent Me and have loved them, even as You have loved Me.”
When was this prayer prayed? The Thursday night before
Calvary. And as we witness the topsy-turvy conflicts among the disciples,
the distrust, the backbiting, the gossiping and jockeying for position,
we don’t really see that dying away until when? After Calvary. Once these
eleven guys saw the nails and the crown of thorns, they began to get some
perspective. Jesus’ mission was more important than their own ambitions.
Grace was larger than their personal egos.
I really think it’s the same today. Oh, there are still wars, in the streets
of Baghdad and in the pews of our churches. But friend, Jesus is the great
Reconciler. And if you and I are fighting with our fellow believers, arguing
over doctrines, splitting over the unsolvable questions or over our pet
theories, then it’s plain that we haven’t yet grasped the enormity of
Calvary.
How does this work on a practical basis, because the last time I checked,
you and I haven’t been called on to broker a world peace someplace. But
one man who has is named Jimmy Carter. As in: former President. He knows
exactly what a Bush and a Blair have been through. But in his spiritual
bestseller, Living Faith, he writes candidly about a war much closer to
home. He was trying to co-author a book entitled Everything to Gain, and
simply was not getting along with his writing partner. They were about
to come to blows, and he was tempted to hit her over the head with a Hewlett-Packard
computer keyboard. She, in turn, wanted to wipe that peanut-y grin off
your face, Mr. President.
The bad thing was that the second name on the book jacket was supposed
to be ROSALYNN Carter! He was fighting with his own wife! In fact, the
President admits that in their years of marriage, a number of little things
have popped up. Being a Navy man, he was rigidly punctual to everything.
Being five minutes late to something was something you’d hang somebody
from a yardarm for. His gracious but casual wife didn’t take clocks and
appointments nearly as seriously as he did, and there were a few Geneva
Convention summit meetings over it.
What helped work things out? Well, marriage vows, for one. They had made
a promise, and that solemn pledge was larger than their petty annoyances.
More importantly, they were both Christians. It was a RULE that they forgive,
that they love, that their bear one another’s weaknesses. They were both
frail children standing in the shadow of the same mighty Cross. Jimmy
knew that; so did Rosalynn. Bigger than somebody being three minutes late
to supper were the Cross and the marriage certificate and the 50 shared
years together.
In fact, make that 58 years. As of today, July 7, 2004. Happy anniversary,
President and Mrs. Carter.
|
