Peacekeepers Make Terrible Messiahs

In my last article, I confessed to being a recovering control freak. Apparently, recovery has layers.

It turns out control doesn’t always look like taking charge. Sometimes it looks like trying to keep everyone else emotionally okay.

For years, I reluctantly wore the title of peacekeeper. Peacekeepers are wonderful people to have around. We don’t stir up conflict. We rush into tense situations armed with a kind word, a joke, or some other diversionary tactic. We are often the caregivers, caretakers, and fixers. And we work tirelessly to make sure everyone else is comfortable.

The problem is, many of us learned that job as children.

Psychology now recognizes a fourth trauma response alongside fight, flight, and freeze. It’s called fawn. Fawners survive by placating, apologizing, sniffing the room for danger, and making themselves small enough to feel safe. It’s a brilliant childhood survival strategy that works so seamlessly we don’t realize we’ve carried it into adulthood. We often unwittingly become peacekeepers and people-pleasers without realizing we’re actually fawning.

Personally, I’ve realized that role has taken a long-term toll I’m no longer willing to pay. Peacekeepers spend so much time managing other people’s emotional equilibrium that we eventually lose our own. We pick up the tab for their negative emotions until we’re exhausted, and then we wonder why no one ever seems to know how to take care of us.

Maybe it’s because we’ve become so busy rescuing others that we’ve hindered both their growth and our own. I guess peacekeeping isn’t the opposite of control after all; it’s just control wearing a nicer outfit.

Here’s the thing, Jesus never said, “Blessed are the peacekeepers.”He blessed the peacemakers.

I always knew they weren’t the same thing, but I’m now convinced they are antonyms.

Jesus was always peaceful, but He was anything but a peacekeeper. He confronted hypocrisy, healed on the Sabbath, was a friend of sinners, and He flipped tables. He didn’t come to make us comfortable. He came to set us free.

That’s about as far from fawning as you can get. As I’ve wrestled with all of this, I’ve realized something that stings. Every time I appoint myself the emotional rescuer in someone’s life, I step in front of the only One who can truly rescue anyone.

The truth is that peacekeepers make terrible messiahs.

We spend our lives carrying things that were never ours to carry. Their anger. Their disappointment. Their anxiety. Their choices. Their consequences.

Jesus carried a cross. We try to carry people. Only one of us was built for that weight.

So, I’m hanging up my peacekeeping badge. Not because I love people less, but because I’m  learning to love them enough to trust Jesus with things that only He can redeem.

As I let go of my peacekeeper role and trust my Savior to do what only He can, I’m realizing not everyone will understand—and that’s okay. If I truly know Jesus, those I’ve spent years trying to help will one day discover what I have. When they meet the One who gives genuine peace, they’ll realize I was a poor substitute for the real thing. Who knows…maybe one day we’ll look back, shake our heads, and laugh at how hard I tried. But until then, that’s not mine to carry.