“To guide our feet unto the way of peace.” The Gospel According to St. Luke

Iona is many things, not the least of which is a place of peace. It is a long journey to get there. Geographically this small island on the northwest coast of Scotland is quite isolated. Most will embark from Glasgow, usually taking a three hour train ride through the Highlands.  A lovely journey it is, passing by lochs and picturesque pastures dotted with sheep that look like living cotton balls grazing on the green hills and glades.  At Oban one boards the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry to Craignure, there to catch a bus for an 1 ½ hour long drive to Fionnphort, the sleepy seaside village from which it is only a stone’s throw, and another short ferry ride, across the sound to Iona.  It is a day-long journey.  For some it’s a life-long one.

Many of the pilgrims who arrive at Iona have been battered by life’s storms and feel as if they are ship-wrecks. I met many while I was there; clergy like me seeking spiritual renewal, spouses considering or reeling from divorce, people grieving the death of loved ones, or some simply seeking a new life direction.  The unexpected, and seemingly unfair nature of life, at loosed them from their moorings, and they were seeking to get their bearings.  Iona provided that for at least some.

But one doesn’t have to travel to Iona to find people who are seeking solace and peace.  We need only open our eyes and look around us, or into the mirror, to find such people.  Recently I listened to the stories of two pilgrims who have taken a long life journey in which they’ve been battered, but appear to have made it through the storms. 

The first was a woman, I’ll call her Mary, who had recently experienced the death of her dear mother. Mary asked to sit by me during the social time following the funeral.  After our initial small talk she began to divulge the grief she had experienced some years ago when her father, husband, brother-in-law and another close male friend all died within a few months of one another.  She recounted the deep grief and despair that she experienced from so many being taken from her at once, and how all that had meant so much to her previously no longer mattered.  I asked her how she made it through, and she replied, “I just made it through”.  I took that to mean that there is no easy answer or formula that we too frequently look for.  She did the best she could.  That may or may not have been “good enough” in the eyes of others, but it’s what she needed and did. She persevered.  That’s all.

The other person was a man, I’ll call him Sam.  As a younger man he had done quite well for himself. He had a wife, a great career, a boat on a lake, a lot of money in the bank.  But that couldn’t protect him from the insidious effects of hie marriage being slowly destroyed.  His wife began to drink too much—maybe he did too—and as the addiction increased, so did his desperation.  One day, after an especially harrowing event caused by an alcohol related incident, he left.  He had been patiently persevering, but could no longer do it, and so he walked away from everything had worked for, and took such great pride in. He left his job.  He left his home.  He left his boat. He moved to a new state and started a new life. But the story doesn’t end there. 

He got a new job, a new home and a new life.  In time, he even married a new wife.  And he was happy.  But then, after many years of marriage, his wife developed an incurable illness.  He was with her during her long, dark descent into death.  He patiently persevered as he watched her waste away.  And then when death claimed her, he wanted to die also.  And so he began to drink.  He attempted to drink himself to death.  And he almost succeeded.  He spent weeks in a hospital and months in rehab.  He had to patiently persevere during this time of recovery.  But he came through. Today he no longer drinks.  His eyes still well up with tears as he recounts the story of his life, his losses.  But he also speaks of what he has gained from it.

Listening to these stories it makes me reflect upon the times we find ourselves adrift in life, directionless, sometimes through no fault of our own.  And the times when we are battered and broken and nearly beaten.  And all we want is peace.

There is a place to find peace.  Iona?  Yes.  But elsewhere.  It can be found in other places.  And even, and especially within.

Where is your place of peace?

Who do you know that is in need of peace?

How might you guide their feet there?