Why true peacemakers disrupt, make a lot of noise
I’ve spent the majority of my adult life feeling a bit like a bull in a china closet. No one ever accuses me of being overly compassionate or empathetic. Instead, I’m accustomed to words like “bold” and “assertive” and even “aggressive.”
I laugh about it now, but there’s some truth to the reality that the words people most frequently use to describe us have some bearing on the way we learn to perceive ourselves and, in turn, the way with which we engage the world.
I’ve had to do a lot of personal work in this space. I would argue that I’ve actually got a great deal of empathy, but the way it comes out doesn’t always feel warm and fuzzy. I’m not the gal you call if you want to cry for five hours about how some pervy screwed you over and pretended to be something he’s not in order to get in your pants. I am absolutely the person to call if you need help exposing him as a fraud in the Facebook reviews of his business profile. (I’m only somewhat serious about that last part, but I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t happened, and I feel zero guilt. Homeboy was a monster.)
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In all seriousness, though, I remain convinced that some people fight by loving, and others love by fighting. You can guess which camp I’m in. All this self-reflection is a pretty necessary part of the process if you’re going to be as actively engaged in the gender wars as I have been. Gender identity ideology is one giant identity crisis, so if you’re going to have any hope of effecting change in this area, it’s probably a good idea to start by making sure your own sense of self is both anchored in reality and sturdy enough to withstand the onslaught of ad hominem attacks that inevitably accompany the work.
A few years back, I spent some serious face time with God asking Him to show me my true identity in His economy. I’m still Presbyterian enough to recoil at phrases like, “God told me (fill in the blank),” but I can honestly say that on the other end of this prayer time, I heard an almost audible voice in my spirit say, “You’re a peacemaker, Kaeley.”
I almost laughed out loud at the suggestion. Just as no one would ever call me an empath, “peacemaker” was another word I would never naturally apply to myself. Peacemakers were the Enneagram 6’s of the world — the warm fuzzy people-pleasing folks who are good at hosting parties and making everyone like them, right? The ones everyone wants to be around? The ones who get all the credit for being the nice guys?
Me? I was constantly dodging accusations of being divisive, not accusations of peacemaking. But in those moments, I genuinely believe the good Lord was inviting me to contend with the reality that “divisive” was a lie the enemy tried to use to keep me sidelined — an effective one at that.
I have heard that I’m divisive every single time I’ve found the courage to confront a problem that needs to be named for the greater good. People misjudge the motivation all the time. They think I like the conflict when what’s really true is that I fear the consequence of NOT speaking up.
I heard I was divisive when I protested men in the girls' locker room at the Y. I hear it whenever I try to confront misogyny in the church. I hear it when I challenge sexual abuse perpetrated by pet political or religious figures. I hear it when I try to confront racism in my own political party. I hear it when I name dysfunction in interpersonal relationships.
I've reached a point in my life where I'm done listening to that lie, and I'm done investing emotional energy into the people who speak it to try to silence me. I will not compromise truth or health in order to achieve false peace. I would rather stand alone than in a crowd of people pretending everything is fine when it's not. And it turns out that unwavering commitment to inviting people to align themselves with the light is actually a peacemaking trait.
Peacekeepers do what they must to mitigate conflict and keep people happy. There’s a real place for this calling, too, in God’s economy. But peacemakers are a different lot entirely. Peacemakers, ironically, have to make a lot of noise. They have to disrupt the complacency on both sides of an argument in order to invite people out of their boxes and closer to one another. They have to convince people that the status quo is unacceptable. They have to goad people into changing pet beliefs and behaviors.
Peacemakers are often hated because they make people uncomfortable with the way things are. They’re seen as pot stirrers, agitators, and troublemakers. Their work costs them greatly. Just think of Nelson Mandela, Susan B. Anthony, Dr. King, or Jesus. Everyone loves these folks in retrospect, but my goodness, were they hated at the height of their missions! (Please don’t hear me arrogantly categorizing myself alongside these legends, by the way. I’m not that egotistical or that delusional. I’m just naming them as peacemaker prototypes to illustrate how fraught the work actually is.)
People incorrectly think of peacemakers as disruptors when they’re doing their jobs right. Theirs is the ministry of reconciliation. They stand smack dab in the middle of ideological tug-o-wars and try to pull both sides closer to each other. They do their best to lay out a plumbline to guide peoples’ ideas and behaviors toward functionality, freedom, and human flourishing.
This is especially important understanding in the context of Christianity, which is inherently “divisive.” Truth claims are, by definition, exclusionary. If you think you’re gonna get to be a Christian who never offends people, please try to remember that Jesus was considered so unspeakably offensive that they killed Him for it.
No, this does not mean that we get to be offensive for fun. (If you find it fun, that’s not Christ working in you; it’s something else entirely.) But it does mean you have to be willing to say things like the following:
1. There’s a Hell, and people go there, even people you like if they die without Christ.
2. Surrender to the Lordship of Christ is the only way to Heaven. (He wouldn’t have died a hideous death on a cross if there was another way.)
3. God may love all people, but He doesn’t love all behaviors. There are some things He condemns, and we don’t get to choose what those things are based on our feelings, nor do we get to pretend they’re ok when He says they aren’t.
4. God created sex. He has standards for it. (The world will call those standards bigotry. Their problem is with God, not with you.)
Even the overall concept of “peace” is something of a paradox in the Christian faith. The Prince of Peace Himself declared that “I came not to bring peace but a sword.”
I think this is important to remember when advocating for peace or unity; it’s usually only found on the other side of tension. The tension itself isn’t bad; you just have to recognize it as a necessary step toward true peace, and you have to refuse to cut the process short when it feels awkward; people need to wrestle through that tension if they’re ever going to grow.
And I think a lot of us like to think we value peace when what we really value is comfort. Peace always has a price tag, and it’s often a steeper price than people are willing to pay.
Like most people in the human race, I secretly desire to be known, understood, and accepted, and I offer this front-row seat to my own self-inventory to let my fellow bulls-in-china shops know they’re not alone. Let’s face it: sometimes the room needs a good shaking to dislodge the dysfunction. And if no one stirs the pot once in a while, that stew is going to burn.
If you're someone who accuses others of being divisive just because they make you uncomfortable, perhaps the voice you should be working to silence is your own. As my therapist says, change happens in the dirt. It's messy. It's also necessary. Surround yourself with people who invite it. And go gentle on the condemnation of their voices. They actually care a whole lot about helping people. They just do it differently than you do, however imperfectly it may be.
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God” (Matthew 5:9).
Kaeley Harms, co-founder of Hands Across the Aisle Women’s Coalition, is a Christian feminist who rarely fits into boxes. She is a truth teller, envelope pusher, Jesus follower, abuse survivor, writer, wife, mom, and lover of words aptly spoken.
