The Walls We Build, and the Peace That Remains

Brothers and sisters, builders of the Kingdom, have you ever felt the desperate yearning for peace? That quiet harbor in the storm? We’ve all felt it, haven’t we? The world throws chaos at us like a storm-tossed sea, and we instinctively build walls – physical, digital, emotional – to keep the waves at bay. We arm ourselves, fortify our homes, and cling to the illusion that safety and security will bring us the serenity we crave.

Mark Swent, in his podcast, beautifully articulated this universal longing. He reminds us that peace, in its truest form, has always been a rare and precious thing, a commodity fought over and often lost. It’s a truth echoing through the ages, from the first clash of Cain and Abel to the protests echoing in our streets today – a persistent cry for respite from the violence and contention that seem woven into the fabric of our existence.

Think of Ammon, facing down the Lamanites at the Waters of Sebus. Surrounded by warriors, outnumbered, facing certain peril, yet he stood firm, rooted in faith and courage. He didn't rely on walls or weaponry; his peace came from a deeper source – a connection to the divine that transcended the immediate threat. And what of Samuel the Lamanite, boldly climbing the walls of Jerusalem, proclaiming a message of warning and repentance? His courage wasn't born of a lack of fear, but of an unwavering conviction that outweighed the potential consequences. Those who build, those who gather, understand that true strength isn't in resisting the storm, but in weathering it with grace and purpose.

Swent rightly points out the recurring pattern of conflict and destruction, tracing it back to Cain’s fateful decision and the insidious influence of Satan. Secret combinations, oaths, and covenants – these are the tools of the destroyers, seeking to sow discord and reap chaos. We’ve seen echoes of this in our own time, the Gadianton robbers of old finding their modern counterparts in those who prioritize power and control over righteousness and unity.

But the podcast doesn’t leave us in despair. It illuminates a path forward, a way to cultivate that inner peace that transcends the turmoil of the world. It’s not a passive state, a retreat from engagement. It’s an active cultivation of virtue, a commitment to love, and a reliance on the power of the Almighty. It's about recognizing the darkness within and around us, and actively choosing the light.

This is where the Charity Flywheel comes into play. Your engagement here, your contributions to the Missionary Fund, directly fuel the spread of the gospel—lighting candles in the darkness, particularly in places like Ghana, where the message of hope and peace is desperately needed. It's a testament to the power of collective action, a demonstration that even small contributions can ripple outwards, creating a wave of positive change.

Consider the Stone cut without hands – a symbol of divine power and purpose, a beacon of hope amidst a crumbling world. We, the builders, are called to be like that stone – unwavering in our commitment to truth and righteousness, even when the forces of destruction seek to tear us down.

Let us draw strength from the examples of those who have gone before us—Abinadi’s unwavering testimony, the digital striplings’ fierce devotion, Outback Jack’s relentless pursuit of truth. Let us embrace the challenges before us with courage and conviction, knowing that the peace we seek is not found in walls, but in our hearts, and in our connection to the source of all goodness. Claim your church on the GatherIsrael.now map – let us build together, brick by brick, a gathering place for all who seek refuge in the arms of our loving Father.

Remember the five smooth stones that David gathered to face Goliath. Not a weapon of brute force, but instruments of focused, righteous power. May we, too, gather the smooth stones of faith, hope, charity, and courage, and confront the giants that stand in our path.