Published on 06/10/2008

How do you save a stranded dolphin? That's the dilemma facing rescue crews in southwest England today. This morning's New York Times tells us that a pod of dolphins swam up the Percuil River in Cornwall and were beached. As intelligent as dolphins are, they don't understand their problem or its solution.

I know the feeling, and so do you. The need for peace in marriages, families, and nations headlines the news every day. As we have sought true happiness by following Jesus' Beatitudes, most recently we have explored the seventh: : "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God" (Matthew 5:9). How do we find such peace?

We've learned that when we accept God's love, obey his word, receive his forgiveness, and trust his will, we can be at peace with our Father. When we initiate pardon and seek reconciliation, we can be at peace with others. The process starts with you and the person with whom you need peace today. If we will claim Jesus' promise, we will be called "sons of God" as the world recognizes in us the peace only God can give.

Here's proof. Francis of Assisi was riding on horseback down the road that went by a leper colony far from his home. He had recently sensed God leading him into a life of spiritual service, but he was still caught by the lure of wealth and glory.

Historian Arnoldo Fortini picks up the story: "Suddenly the horse jerked to the side of the road. With difficulty Francis pulled him back by a violent jerk at the reins. The young man looked up and recoiled in horror. A leper stood in the middle of the road a short distance away, unmoving and looking at him. He was no different from the others: the usual wan specter with stained face, shaved head, dressed in gray sackcloth. He did not speak and showed no sign of moving or of getting out of the way. He looked at the horseman fixedly, strangely, with an acute and penetrating gaze.

"An instant that seemed eternity passed. Slowly Francis dismounted, went to the man, and took his hand. It was a cold emaciated hand, bloodstained, twisted, inert, and cold like that of a corpse. He put a mite of charity in it, pressed it, carried it to his lips. And suddenly, as he kissed the…flesh of the creature who was the most abject, the most hated, the most scorned, of all human beings, he was flooded with a wave of emotion, one that shut out everything around him, one that he would remember even on his death bed." When young Francis of Assisi gave a hurting soul the peace of God, he found it in his own heart. So will we.