The Puzzle Peace Challenge
This article was first published in The Joyful Life magazine, Winter 2022.
I set my pen down and closed my Bible with a sigh. I should have been enjoying preparing a Christmas lesson about peace for my third-grade Sunday school class, but I wasn’t.
Glancing down at my notes, my eyes skimmed over the definitions of shalom, the Hebrew word that is translated “peace” and eirini, its Greek counterpart. These words are layered with meaning, encompassing far more than merely the absence of conflict. The “peace on earth” that the angels proclaimed was one of wholeness, unity, rest, assurance, and a deep and abiding sense of wellness.
As the sound of agitated little voices drifted from the living room into my workspace, I couldn’t help but think wryly to myself that I would happily settle for the absence-of-conflict kind of peace. In that season, the fullness of shalom seemed as distant and unreachable as the moon.
Settling deeper into my chair, I pondered the possible reasons behind our lack of peace. Was it because the onset of winter forced us to spend more time cooped up in close quarters? Was it because of the excitement of the Christmas season? Or was it because of my unrealistic expectations of what the holidays should be like? Maybe I was overthinking it and our current state of conflict and crankiness was merely the inevitable reality of seven sinners—five feisty little ones and two tired parents—living life together? Perhaps it was all of the above.
My eyes scanned the rest of my notes. Below the definitions, I had jotted down snippets of New Testament passages: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God” (Matthew 5:9, ESV)…“Through His blood we have peace with God” (Romans 5:1, ESV)…“Be at peace with one another” (Romans 12:18, ESV).
How does it all fit together, Lord? How do we apply these truths to little kids who prefer to hit and grab instead of share and to their mother, who is finding that exasperation comes much easier than kindness? Where do we even start?
My prayerful musings were soon interrupted by the sounds of crashing blocks, crying toddlers, and shouts of “It wasn’t my fault!” With another sigh and a final prayer—Jesus, Prince of Peace, help us!—I left behind my study of peace and waded into the fray.
Later that evening, as we were cleaning up after dinner, my husband could tell I needed a hug. He pulled me close, and there, in the kitchen, with chaos swirling around us, I expressed my frustration at the near-constant ripples of unrest in our home. I told him about my peace study and how I longed to have Jesus lead us into the “way of peace” in real and tangible ways that Christmas. As our son began to crawl up my leg, I told my husband that we needed to do something to turn our hearts towards peacemaking. Then, with our son still climbing up my leg and my pants literally beginning to fall down, I told him that we needed to do it now!
So, standing forehead to forehead, we hatched a plan.
SETTING THE STAGE
My husband called the kids into the living room while I pulled a puzzle out of the cupboard. The kids could sense that something was up; I think our unusually long hug tipped them off. They sat lined up on the couch with curious eyes open wide.
“Have you guys noticed that there has been a lot of trouble around here lately?”
Little heads nodded.
“Can you name some of the trouble?”
A list of trouble-making behaviors slowly emerged: not sharing, hitting, yelling, not listening to Mom and Dad, pushing, knocking over towers, etc.
“Is it easy or hard to do those things?”
“Easy.”
“Do things get better or worse when we do those things?”
“Worse.”
We proceeded to talk about how troublemaking is easy and comes naturally, yet it makes everything worse. Then we discussed how peacemaking is the exact opposite: it is hard and does not come naturally, yet it makes everything so much better.
My husband opened his Bible to Luke 1:79. There we read that Jesus came to “guide our feet into the way of peace,” to make us peacemakers like Him.
As we mulled these things over and brainstormed what peacemaking might look like, we worked on the puzzle I had set on the coffee table. It was a small, 100-piece puzzle that depicted a peaceful winter scene. As the last piece was snapped into place, we told the kids we had a peacemaking challenge for them; in the coming week, we were going to make peace in our home, one puzzle piece at a time.
THE PUZZLE PEACE CHALLENGE
The goal was simple: to deconstruct the puzzle we had just completed and reassemble it on a pretty Christmas tray. The current rendition of the puzzle would sit on the counter next to the tray. Every act of peacemaking would grant the peacemaker the opportunity to remove one piece of the puzzle on the counter and snap it into place on the tray. On the other hand, every act of troublemaking would require that the troublemaker remove one piece from the puzzle on the tray and place it back onto the counter. Christmas Eve dinner—one week away—was the deadline to fully transfer the puzzle to the tray.
The kids were excited about the challenge and thought it would be a piece of cake. For the rest of the evening, “pleases” and “thank
yous” abounded. The bedtime announcement was met with quiet obedience, and there wasn’t even any arguing over who sat next to Mom for bedtime stories. Puzzle pieces were flying into place!
But come morning, things weren’t so easy.
UNEXPECTED BENEFITS
We didn’t even make it to breakfast before pieces began to move “the wrong way.” But this is when the challenge began to bless us in unexpected ways. When frustrations flared and harsh words flew, hot tempers would quickly cool when I would tell a wound-up youngster to “go move a piece.” The simple act of moving a piece removed them from the situation. It allowed them to catch their breath and reminded them of the choice at hand: the easy but unpleasant road of trouble or the hard but rewarding road of peace.
After a piece was moved “the wrong way,” we would return to the situation and work out a solution. This usually resulted in pieces moving back “the right way” as stubborn hearts yielded, apologies were made, and peace was restored.
As the week progressed, I also realized how much emotion—annoyance, exasperation, and anger—I had been adding to the mix. But having a plan and a go-to response—“go move a piece”—enabled me to calmly come alongside my kids as their ally instead of positioning myself as another angry opponent in whatever trouble was brewing.
Time and time again, the challenge provided the space we needed to redirect a troublemaking moment towards a peaceful resolution. The simple act of moving a puzzle piece gave us all a moment to take a breath, turn towards each other once more, and allow the Spirit to guide us into “the way of peace.”
VICTORY IN JESUS
Moving 100 puzzle pieces requires a lot of peace. Despite our best efforts, when Christmas Eve dinner rolled around, the puzzle on the Christmas tray was still unfinished. We had failed the challenge.
Or had we?
As we talked it over at dinner, our oldest, then 10-years-old, said, “The goal really wasn’t to make the puzzle; it was to make our home more peaceful. And we did.”
Ahh, yes! Talk about a sweet family moment.
To add to the sweetness, I pulled out the birthday cake I had baked for Jesus. Despite the unfinished puzzle, we had much to celebrate. We had experienced the power found in pursuing peace with each other and the joy of reconciliation. But all that we experienced was only possible through the peace that came to Earth on that first Christmas night, wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.
True peace, shalom in all its richness, is only possible because Jesus came and reconciled us to God by His blood on the cross (Romans 5:1 ). So before we each dug into a piece of peace-celebrating cake, we completed the puzzle, thanking Jesus for doing for us what we could not do for ourselves. For finishing for us what we could not finish ourselves. For making a way for us to be at peace with God so we can live in the joy of His presence forever.
All glory be to the Prince of Peace!
