2nd Sunday of Advent
Bar 5:1-9
Phi 1:4-6,8-11
Lk 3:1-6
Every valley will be filled in, every mountain and hill be laid low, winding ways will be straightened and rough roads made smooth.
The second week in Advent is also when we light the purple candle of PEACE – something very close to my heart. Peace has always been something many of us seek and I never knew how much I needed it until I received it. How I’d describe my past adult years is one filled with many winding ways and rough roads. Without the peace of Christ, it was messy, chaotic and troubling. I knew that my heart was often palpitating and I hated the feeling so much. I also remember praying a lot, but I can’t remember what I prayed for, certainly not peace. But Jesus gave it anyway.
The first sign of the peace that he wanted to give me was during my CER #49. The group I was assigned to was, not surprisingly, called Peace. Subsequently, the peace theme continued to reign in various parts of my life. After having experienced the “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid” (John 14:27), I have since stopped worrying all the time and have become less fearful and trust in the Lord much more. With that peace, almost nothing fazes me – not even when I was diagnosed with breast cancer four years ago. My world came tumbling down, but just for a very short while (by short I meant like just one day). I remained calm beyond belief as I relayed the news to my daughters. Even the fear I experienced the night before my mastectomy (a month later) was somewhat short-lived. I likened myself to Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. I wished it didn’t have to happen but, in the end, I just surrendered and let the peace of Jesus fill me instead. I can still remember the presence of Jesus at the time before my surgery. Anyone lying on the cold operating table would be freaking out, but I was calm as a tranquil lake – nothing shook me, not even the nurse who was struggling to insert a needle for anaesthesia but couldn’t find a suitable vein for it. There were many times when troubles could seem to turn my world topsy turvy, but this peace inside me is what’s been keeping me upright, giving me the confidence to go through life with a smile.
I am sure Jesus wants to give everyone this most precious gift in the world, but it’s not that easy to receive it. It took me years of ‘training’ as I learnt to first accept the situation, to surrender whatever my feelings, and to trust in Jesus that he’s taking care of me and of my situation – even when I can’t see how. Many a time, when we fall into the pit of despair, we can’t seem to be able to pick ourselves up from the valley of darkness. When I lost my mum at 19, I fell into that pit and almost didn’t manage to get up or out. Worst of all, I didn’t know Jesus then and of course didn’t know to pray. It took me a long time to get out. Thanks to literature and poetry, I was able to express myself and release some of that loss and grief into creative writing. That was, in fact, how I fell in love with writing. I know that must have all been part of what we call God’s plan, and I know now that Jesus can turn any disaster, suffering and ill into a great opportunity for hope, joy, love and peace.
Brothers and sisters, let us cling on to all that as we await for the coming of Jesus this Christmas.
(Today’s OXYGEN by Cynthia Chew)
Prayer: Dear Jesus, we know you want so much to give all of us the peace that we need so much when trials come. But often we do not know how to receive it. Please continue to be present in our lives and show us that only you can give us this precious gift of peace. Amen
Thanksgiving: Thank you Jesus, for being a part of this world and of our lives, even when we often forget you in our busyness. Above all, thank you for the greatest love you’ve given to us.
OXYGEN 
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