In the quiet hills of Kentucky, where the grass bends like bowed heads beneath the morning dew, an old church bell rang low and lonely.** Inside, twelve-year-old Elijah sat alone in a creaky pew, his fists clenched. His father had just been deployed. His uncle, who once taught Sunday school, now burned with bitterness toward the world—and told Elijah, “Peacemakers just get walked on.” Elijah didn’t argue, but he wondered why his heart hurt more after hearing that.
That evening, Elijah stumbled upon an old prayer journal tucked in the corner of the church library.** It belonged to Sister Mae, a forgotten elder with gnarled hands and a voice like oak roots—quiet, deep, steady. She had once written: *“A peacemaker doesn’t avoid battle… he walks into it with heaven in his eyes.”* Elijah wept. Not loud. Just quiet tears that dripped onto the fragile pages like rain on dry ground.
The next week, two boys fought behind the school gym. Words like blades. Fists like hammers.** Elijah stood there, trembling. Then something in him cracked open. He stepped between them—not with shouts, but with a whisper: “This isn’t who you are.” At first, they stared. Then one dropped his fists. The other turned away. And peace—fragile as glass, real as breath—settled between them. Elijah didn’t walk away proud. He walked away changed.
At Sunday service, his uncle asked why his knuckles were bruised. Elijah smiled. “I stopped someone from getting worse ones.”** His uncle didn’t laugh. But he didn’t scoff, either. Instead, he watched Elijah from across the room while the choir sang, *“Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.”* His fingers tapped along, slow and thoughtful. A small thaw.
Because that’s the secret, isn’t it? Peacemakers don’t always wear halos or robes—they wear bruises and backaches, prayers and purpose.** They are not weak. They are the storm’s anchor. The flame in the fog. And according to Jesus Himself—they are called not by titles, but by blood: *the children of God.*
Believe upon the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved—
not merely from judgment,
but from the ache of life without purpose,
without hope,
without the mercy that reaches even the most shattered heart.
He is not far from you.
He stands even now,
at the door of your soul,
not with wrath in His hand,
but with scars—proof that love bled for you.
Come, not because you are worthy,
but because He is.
Come, not to perform,
but to be made new.
The cross is not a monument to guilt,
but an invitation to grace.
So lay down your striving.
Lay down your shame.
Lift your eyes—
There is a Savior.
And He calls you by name.
Believe upon the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved—
from sin,
for glory,
forever.
“The King Who Whispers Peace”
A poem for a child’s heart
There once was a King with kind, quiet eyes,
Who came to the world beneath stormy skies.
But He didn’t wear armor, or shout when He spoke—
He whispered peace, and the darkness broke.
He walked on the waves when the sea turned wild,
And held out His hand to every child.
When people were fighting, He knelt in the sand,
And drew love in the dust with His gentle hand.
His crown wasn’t gold—it was made out of thorns,
To heal all our hurts, our fears, and our storms.
He could have called angels to win every war…
But instead, He brought peace to our hearts evermore.
So when you feel scared, or angry, or small,
Remember the King who sees it all.
He doesn’t always change the things that we see—
But He whispers, *“Take heart… you have peace, through Me.”
Susan Barker Nikitenko 2025© AnnaBenMBMPFamSSPMPBKB<RMNM
[Verse melody]
(C) There once was a King with (Am) kind, quiet eyes,
(F) Who came to the world (G) beneath stormy skies.
(Em) He whispered His love in the (Am) heart of the night,
(F) And the world felt His (G) peace, soft and (C) bright.
[Bridge melody]
(F) He calmed the wind, He (C) stilled the rain,
(Am) He comforted my (G) fear and pain.
(F) So close your eyes, don’t (C) be afraid,
(Am) His peace is near—
(F) He’s here—
(G) He stays.
[Final Line]
(C) The King who whispers peace… (F) He’s whispering to (C) you.
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