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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 59 years. As of July 7, 2005. Happy belated anniversary, President and Mrs. Carter.
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