Expanding Our Tent: 25 Years of Mission With a Peace That Confronts the Storms

John 14:27 | Matthew 5:9 | Isaiah 2:4

Dear brothers and sisters, these past weeks, while I have been deeply grateful for God’s care and provision, my heart has felt heavy. I have found myself longing for the Spirit to speak a timely word—one that will build up and challenge the church. It is impossible to ignore the pain of our world. Everywhere we turn there are battlefronts, wars, countless lives lost, the echo of bombs, hunger, and the uncertainty of tomorrow. Closer to home, we have seen migrant brothers and sisters protesting U.S. policies, facing devastating consequences—especially family separations that tear lives apart.

Is it possible, even in the midst of these storms, to find the strength to overcome fear and create spaces of peace and unity—acts that disarm despair? This is God’s call to the church today: to walk with Jesus, our Prince of Peace, and embrace our mission as peacemakers. To live with a peace that dares to confront the storms—a peace rooted in Christ, the author and Lord of our faith.

Singing in the Storm: A Story from Gaza

Among the many stories of hope and resilience, one moves me deeply. Ahmed Abu Amsha, a music teacher in Gaza, has become a kind of humanitarian troubadour. In Al-Jundi Al-Majhool Square—once the bustling heart of Gaza City—music now drifts among rows of tents. The square, transformed into an immense refugee camp, shelters hundreds of families displaced by over 19 months of war.

Living with his family in a weathered tent, Ahmed refuses to let despair suffocate hope. Instead, he teaches music to displaced children, helping them discover moments of joy through rhythm and song.

Ahmed, regional coordinator for the Edward Said National Conservatory of Music, has seen his family displaced twelve times since the war began. Each time they fled, they carried their instruments with them. “They are the only thing that keeps hope alive,” he says, seated outside his tent with a guitar resting gently on his lap.

Life in the camp is harsh: narrow alleys, long lines for water, a constant struggle to survive. Yet amid the sorrow, Ahmed has created something extraordinary. Gaza Bird Singing, a musical group of displaced children, now performs in other camps and has gone viral on social media, offering a rare glimpse of joy among the ruins.

As one child put it: “It is the only thing that helps me forget the sound of bombings.” Another said, “When I am afraid, I play music. It makes me feel safe.” Ahmed remains firm in his mission: “We sing for peace, we sing for life, we sing for Gaza.” The sound of music, he says, has become a sacred space.

What Peace Do We Proclaim?

The peace God calls us to embody is not passive. It is active, courageous, and deeply rooted in, at least, three truths:

1.     Peace as the Fruit of the Heart (John 14:27)

Jesus tells us: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you…”
This peace is not shaped by circumstances but by the One who dwells within us. It is the peace that surpasses all understanding—the kind that filled Jesus as he slept in the boat during a storm, that gave Paul strength to write letters from prison, that stirred Esther’s courage to save her people, and empowered Deborah to lead Israel into battle. This peace becomes faith, conviction, trust, and the decision to act from God’s presence.

Ask yourself: What storms are you facing today? Where do you long for Christ’s peace? May His peace light your path and help you see beyond the present, no matter how complex it seems. Like the children of Gaza, may we cling so tightly to God’s peace that songs of stillness and gratitude rise within us.

2.     Peace as Prophetic Vision (Isaiah 2:4)

We also hold to the prophetic vision of peace. Isaiah declares: “They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.”

Today, we see sophisticated weapons, powerful military alliances, and the devastation of entire peoples and ecosystems. We cry out for the sanity of leaders, for compassion and mercy to end the violence. Here in our own context, we’ve seen teachers singing to calm students amid the noise of gunfire. We must resist becoming numb to war. We are called to train for peace, not conflict—to sow justice so that peace may flourish.
Our work for peace today is grounded in hope for the new earth and new heaven God has promised.

3.     Peace as the Blessedness of God’s Children (Matthew 5:9)

“Blessed are the peacemakers…” Jesus says. To be a peacemaker is to reconcile, even when it feels dangerous or futile. It is to create spaces of protection and moments of calm amid chaos, knowing we are held by a community of faith. God calls us to sow peace, to extinguish hatred’s fires, to build rather than destroy, to multiply love rather than subtract from it. This begins in our daily lives—in families, churches, schools, and workplaces.

“Turn from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it” (Psalm 34:14). Pursue peace, work for it, and embrace it as a grace from God. May God bless us with Shalom so we can keep our commitment to be and make peace in these violent times. Jesus is our peace; let us be a community of peace.

Expanding Our Tent: Stories from Los Angeles

Another story of hope comes from Los Angeles. Once known as a sanctuary city, it has become a symbol of migrant resistance. Formerly undocumented individuals—now U.S. citizens—raise their voices for grandparents, parents, and siblings facing deportation.
Patricia’s story stands out. At 22, with no English, she followed the man who would become her children’s father to Desert Hot Springs, California. Drawn to the strong Latino community there, she reflected: “People go to California because they have family. Very few would dare to go farther—or alone.”

Churches as sanctuaries have played vital roles, with signs declaring, “This is God’s house, your home. Welcome.” At times, these sacred spaces were violated when authorities entered mid-service to detain worshippers. And now, the call extends to us: to open our churches and hearts to compatriots returning to our lands. Let us expand our tent—becoming open, safe communities of sanctuary in Jesus’ name. Committed to sowing peace through compassion and mercy. Singing for peace, singing for life, lifting our voices for others—even in the midst of storms.

Allow me to close with powerful words from Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.:
"What worries me is not the wickedness of the evil but the indifference of the good. If I can help one person to have hope, I will not have lived in vain." Shalom. God will fight our battles. AMEN.