Tuesday of the 5th Week of Easter

In Zambia today, we live in uncertainty. Economic pressures mount. Political tensions simmer. Families strain under the weight of daily struggles. Yet in this moment, the Word of God speaks—not despair, but peace; not surrender, but mission.

We gather not because all is well, but because we believe the story is not over. We believe that even now, Christ speaks peace into the storm and sends us out with purpose.

Paul had been stoned, dragged outside Lystra, and left for dead. And yet, he rose—not simply to survive, but to return, to strengthen, to encourage.

“It is necessary for us to undergo many hardships to enter the kingdom of God.”

That’s not just a message for the early Church. It’s a word for us—in our homes, our parishes, our country.

Hardships do not block the kingdom—they prepare the ground.

They open our eyes to what truly matters. The sick child who inspires a community to pray. The lost job that becomes a doorway to a new vocation of service. The political tension that awakens us to deeper unity and shared responsibility. Through struggle, our faith deepens. Through trials, our compassion is purified.

The kingdom of God is not a reward for those who avoid trouble. It is discovered by those who walk through hardship with courage, holding on to grace.

And into that hardship, Jesus speaks:

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you.”

That contrast—“not as the world gives”—is essential. The world’s peace is built on deals, silence, control. It depends on the absence of conflict, not the presence of justice. It can be taken away in an instant.

But the peace of Christ is different. It is not a mood. It is a mission. It does not erase hardship—it strengthens us to face it with love. It is the peace of the cross: hard-won, enduring, rooted in mercy.

And so Christ’s peace calls us to action:

• To visit a sick neighbour, even when time is short.
• To forgive a long-held grudge and let reconciliation begin.
• To support local farmers by buying their produce.
• To speak the truth in love, even when silence is easier.
• To stand up against gender-based violence, even when it costs.
• To work together—across tribes, classes, and parties—for the good of all.

This is how peace grows—not imposed from above, but cultivated from within. Not by force, but by faith.

Let me leave you with some questions for prayer:

• Where in my life am I searching for peace? And am I open to the kind Christ offers?
• Who do I need to encourage today?
• Who do I need to forgive—or ask forgiveness from?
• How can I, this week, become a bearer of peace and a witness to the kingdom?

Christ’s words to us today are simple, but they are everything:

“Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.”

This is not the peace of avoidance, but the peace that renews the spirit and sends us out.

Let us go forth with that peace—like seeds scattered in fertile soil, ready to take root and bear fruit in the kingdom of God.

Amen.

I acknowledge that this homily was drafted by myself and refined using AI assistance and automatic built-in word processing tools for grammar, style, and clarity. The final content remains the responsibility of the author.