The Presence of Peace

I want to begin this morning with something simple. Look at this. On its own, it’s not very strong. You could snap it easily with your hands. It frays, it unravels, it doesn’t hold much weight.

Now, watch what happens when you take three strands and begin to braid them together. Suddenly, something fragile becomes strong. Something that could barely hold its own now carries tension, pulls weight, and holds firm.

That’s the power of a braided cord. But it’s also a picture of something deeper — the way peace and presence work in God’s kingdom. Alone, we unravel. But woven together, we discover strength — and even more, we discover the presence of Christ Himself.

Over the past three weeks we’ve been exploring what it means to be peacemakers — not just people who avoid conflict, but people who live out God’s desire for a world of shalom.

Now, shalom is more than just the absence of fighting. In Hebrew, shalom means wholeness, harmony, flourishing. It’s the world as God intended it to be — relationships right with God, right with each other, and right with creation itself. From the very first pages of Scripture, God’s design was that humanity would live in shalom — walking with Him in the garden, working together in joy, resting in trust.

But we know the story. That peace was broken. Conflict, violence, suspicion, and division entered the world. Ever since, God’s mission has been to restore shalom through covenant, through His people, and ultimately through His Son.

And so in week one we looked at Jesus’ blessing: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” We saw that peace begins in the very heart of God and that we are invited to reflect His character by making peace in our world.

In week two we looked at the practice of peace in Corinth, a church frayed by division and status-seeking. Paul reminds them that true peace looks like shared meals, mutual care, and justice for the poor. Peace isn’t passive — it’s practiced. It’s woven into how we eat, share, and live.

In week three we wrestled with the cost of peace. We compared the cold courtroom — where the goal is verdict and punishment — with the warm family room — where the goal is healing and restoration. Jesus calls His followers not to deal in verdicts, but to seek reconciliation. Peacemaking costs us pride, but it gives us back relationship.

And now in this final week, we bring it all together with the presence of peace. Jesus promises that when two or three gather in His name, He is present. Paul echoes this: “Live in peace, and the God of love and peace will be with you.”

In other words, peace isn’t just something we work on. Peace is where God Himself dwells. Shalom is not just God’s goal for the end of the story — it’s where God chooses to be right now, in the braided lives of His people.

But if God’s dream is a world of shalom, why does our world feel so frayed?

We live in a culture that prizes independence, individuality, and self-expression. The mantra of our day is “be your own person.” Don’t let anyone else tell you what to think. Stand your ground. Hold your line.

And yet, if we’re honest, this “stand alone” mentality is fraying us. Look around — families divided, churches split, communities torn apart by suspicion, grudges, and politics. Sometimes, even our homes and our pews feel like places where strands are coming loose rather than being woven together.

And we don’t have to look far to see it. Just open your news feed for five minutes. We are constantly told what “side” we should be on — left or right, this camp or that camp, pro-this or anti-that. And it’s not just in politics. It’s in the way people post online, the way neighbors talk past each other, even the way families gather around the holidays.

I read about a community meeting not long ago in a small town. The issue on the table wasn’t something earth-shattering — it was whether or not to put up new streetlights. But what happened? The room erupted into shouting. People stormed out. Friendships that had lasted years dissolved over something as small as the placement of a few lamps.

That’s where we are: strands unraveling over the smallest things.

And in that kind of world, we naturally ask: Where is God? Where is God’s peace?

That’s when we hear Jesus’ words in Matthew 18:18-20

Matthew 18:18–20 NRSV

Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. Again, truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”

This is one of those verses that gets quoted all the time. “Where two or three are gathered, there’s Jesus.” We often use it as a comfort when not many people show up for Bible study or prayer meeting. But Jesus’ words are about something deeper than attendance. He’s talking about reconciliation. About shared discernment. About unity forged in His name.

In other words: the presence of Christ is not just a Sunday-morning feeling. It’s a promise given to communities that do the hard work of peace.

And it’s not just Jesus who says this. The Apostle Paul echoes this in his second letter to the Corinthians.

Now, if you know anything about Corinth, you know this was not a peaceful church. Corinth was messy. It was full of factions and rivalries, of leaders competing for influence, of people abusing spiritual gifts and ignoring the poor at the Lord’s Supper. If there was ever a community at risk of unraveling, it was Corinth.

At the very end of his letter, Paul pleads with them:

2 Corinthians 13:11 NRSV

Finally, brothers and sisters, farewell. Put things in order, listen to my appeal, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you.

Do you hear it? The promise of God’s presence is tied to their willingness to live in peace. “The God of love and peace will be with you.” Paul is echoing Jesus: where there is unity, peace, and reconciliation, God shows up.

Think back to that braided cord. Here’s how it works: each strand takes turns being on top, then underneath, then stretched, then holding the line. No one strand carries the load all the time. Each has to bend, move, and yield for the cord to hold.

That’s a living picture of peace.

Peace doesn’t mean everyone always gets their way. Peace doesn’t mean the loudest voice wins. Peace is what happens when we are willing to bend for the sake of love. To carry one another’s burdens. To take turns holding tension. And when we do, something stronger than ourselves emerges.

Jesus uses strong words here: “Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.” That’s authority language. But notice — it’s not authority given to lone individuals. It’s authority given to the community, to the “two or three” gathered in His name.

In other words: true authority is not in one person dictating terms. True authority is in shared discernment, rooted in Christ.

Think about that. In a world obsessed with top-down power — the boss who makes the rules, the politician who issues decrees, the influencer who sets the trend — Jesus gives authority to communities gathered in His name, seeking peace together. That’s radical.

Here’s what that means for us. God’s presence doesn’t just show up when the music swells in worship. God doesn’t only arrive when the sanctuary feels holy. Jesus promises to show up when we pursue unity in His name.

That means:

God shows up in the church council meeting where there’s disagreement, but the group stops to pray and really listen to one another.

God shows up in the family room where siblings begin to reconcile after years of silence.

God shows up at the kitchen table where a couple decides to forgive and start fresh.

God shows up in the neighborhood where people from different cultures come together to serve the hungry.

God shows up not just in worship, but in the weaving together of peace.

So what does this look like for us? Let’s get practical.

Paul told the Corinthians, “Put things in order.” Sometimes peace begins with taking small steps of order — clarifying, apologizing, extending forgiveness.

He told them, “Agree with one another.” Not agree on everything, but find common ground in Christ. Look for where love can bind us together even if opinions differ.

And he said, “Live in peace.” That’s not a suggestion; it’s a way of life. It means seeking the wholeness of the other, not just your own way.

When we do, Paul says, “the God of love and peace will be with you.” That’s the promise. That’s the presence.

I want to come back to the cord one more time.

Imagine your life as a single strand. It’s good, but it’s fragile. You can only carry so much tension on your own. Now imagine your life braided with the lives of others — with your family, your church, your community. Suddenly, you’re stronger.

And then imagine this: woven into those strands is the very presence of Christ. That’s what He promises. Not just your strength plus my strength, but His strength binding us together. That’s peace. That’s presence. That’s power.

Jesus says, “Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”

This week, don’t just attend worship. Gather in His name with someone you’ve been estranged from. Seek peace with a brother or sister. Step into reconciliation with courage. Because when you do, you don’t just find agreement — you find Jesus.

And when we as a church live this out, we won’t just be a group of people holding services on Sunday. We will be a braided cord of love and peace that cannot be broken — because the presence of Christ Himself holds us together.