A DECADE OF PEACE

December 23, 2025

Jason Bonnicksen

A DECADE OF PEACE

365 DAYS OF THANKSLIVING — DAY 23

Hours ago, I read a Facebook post from a classmate that read, “Merry Christmas Eve Eve everyone! Much love to you all and God bless.” As she often does, Lisa gave me a good laugh. (In pure Jason fashion, I replied, “same same.”)

Merry Christmas Eve Eve…. A decade ago on this very day, I was sitting in Panera finalizing my Christmas Eve message when an email came across my screen. It’d been from a member of my pastoral counsel; his undies were in a bunch about our youth pastor who’d become a thorn in everyone’s side. I don’t remember the content of Mike’s message; but what I do remember was how I became unglued and went into a spiritual tailspin. None of this, of course, was Mike’s fault. Increasingly, my soul had become void of God’s peace.

“Get your butt over to the church and pray!” I emphatically heard in my heart. Without 1000% assurance, I knew that directive had been of the Lord. He could’ve spoken audibly, because I heard his voice the same. His Word was a direct order, one not to be bartered or argued with.

I slammed my laptop shut; stomped out to the car; and drove like Mario Andretti over to the church. Once inside, I tip-toed downstairs to the chapel, not wanting my staff to know I was there.

St. Paul’s chapel was gorgeous, the perfect place for prayer. No more than 10’x12’, it contained backlit stained glass on its longest two walls, and an early 1800’s alter piece adorned with candles on both sides. Beneath the stained glass sat two padded pews; and adorning the back near the door rested an antique piano, grossly out of tune. It was the perfect place to be alone.

I disregarded the overhead lights; turned on the backlit stained glass, and lit the candles to illuminate the room. For more than an hour, I screamed and yelled at God like a 3-year-old throwing a tantrum in Target for not getting his way. And then, God intervened.

Three hours later, this grown man found himself in a fetal position, rocking back and forth in the chapel’s corner, begging God to “move, or move me from that place.” I couldn’t do it anymore; I couldn’t minister to them anymore and have any assemblance of peace. I wept a bucket of tears that afternoon.

I gathered my composure and went home and told the story to my wife. She listened to it all, never once saying a word. The next day I carried on as usual, without anybody in the church knowing what had transpired hours earlier. I put on a good show that day, leading three services in eight hours, wishing 700+ a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

The next week was a blur, still numb from that Christmas Eve Eve. But then, just after New Years Day, God broke in. From heaven it must've been, God filled my heart with his unsurpassing peace. About that peace, the Apostle Paul wrote:

“The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Philippians 4:5–7, ESV

It’s literally been a decade today since that tantrum of a day. But, without that day, I don’t know if I’d have God’s peace the way I do today. Four months later, the week following Easter, I left my post at St. Paul’s as though a burden had been erased from my soul.

The days didn’t become easier; and some of them were downright hard. But through it all, God’s peace regulated my heart. I didn’t fear what tomorrow would bring; and no matter how tumultuous life became, anxiety never took control of my life.

I have God to thank for that. I thank God for His peace; thanking him all the more for that Christmas Eve Eve.

May this Christmas for you be merry and bright. But more than anything else, I pray God gift you his peace, that kind of peace that reigns in my heart.

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