Peace Is a Person, Not a Mood

the hidden reason peace feels impossible

I think it’s safe to say that I’m in some kind of conflict with everyone. I mean, sure, there are times when people don’t drive me crazy, not wanting their way, not disliking mine, not getting in my way, but most of the time, our ways are not the same. And there are so many people in the world who get in my way or just don’t do things the way I would, that I’m exhausted just fighting with them in my mind, if not in person.

The truth is that when I get into a big juicy “argument,” I’m usually alone. No witnesses. No opponent. Just me and my swirling thoughts, waging war against someone who isn’t even there to defend themselves.

It usually starts small. A stray comment. A misunderstanding. An imagined offense.

And before I know it, I’m pacing the house like a trial lawyer preparing my closing argument:

Me: How could you even think that?

Me: (impersonating them): Because I’m obviously a complete idiot who doesn’t understand anything.

Me: Exactly! I’m so glad we agree.

Me again: Honestly, who says that to someone? Who acts like that?

Me: Let me break it down for you real slow, since apparently basic human decency is rocket science to you!

And the conversation goes on and on, wherein I point out all the reasons they are wrong and bad and stupid and useless, and I am kind, and loving, and generous. And of course, funny! And, oh, they should just shut up, but they don’t; they just keep pushing my buttons, and I have to keep up the debate over their dumbness. It’s draining! Why don’t they just dial it back? I don’t have time for this.

Oh yeah. That’s right.

I don’t have time for this.

That thought occurred to me recently as I was reading an article by Jon Bloom. I wish I could find it now, but it’s lost forever. But I do remember reading that we waste time arguing with the enemy, and that gets us nowhere, when suddenly it hit me; I waste so much time arguing that sometimes it’s all the thought I can fit into a day. I mean, it’s my constant conversation whenever I’m alone.

Ugh! Serenity now!

As much as I’d like to find peace in my life, all I seem to find is anxiety, the exact opposite of peace, brought on by the constant conflict I fabricate within myself. If I had peace, I’d be free from anxiety and stress. I’d be peaceful, but anxiety seems to be the state my heart gravitates towards as it dissects all that is wrong in the world around me, from the news feeds to the neighbors; everything is stressing me out!

What Is Peace?

Peace is fantastic, but I think it’s in the category of fantastic beasts. You know that movie, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them? It’s part of the Harry Potter world. It’s a wonderful film filled with, well, fantastic beasts that make you wish you could collect them all as your pets. Well, I think that peace—at least according to Vocabulary.com—is one of those fantastic beasts. It would be great if it existed, but I’m just not sure it does.

They say, “Peace is a stress-free state of security and calmness that comes when there’s no fighting or war, everything coexisting in perfect harmony and freedom.” With a definition like that, I am sure that this elusive creature is something I have never seen. Stress-free? Perfect freedom and harmony? Wait, is that even real? Do people actually live in this peace they’re talking about? If so, I’d like to join them.

The fantastic nature of this kind of peace is that it relies on some very fantastical asks. If you want this peace, you have to live without anxiety and be able to do anything you want to do in perfect freedom and calmness, so you have no anxiety. Oh, and live in perfect harmony with everyone around you. The only way I could envision that kind of harmony would be if there were less trouble in my life: Less traffic, less lines, less people who didn’t do what I wanted whenever I wanted them to, and didn’t understand everything I said without any effort at all to explain it to them.

It would mean that I would need to control everyone around me so that they never stressed me out or infringed upon my freedom or calmness. Yes, that’s a fantasy I can get behind—but it’s still just that: a fantasy. If that’s how the world defines peace, then it’s no wonder we are all stressed out and wondering where life went wrong.

For most of the world, peace, like joy, is all about the perfect circumstances. If you don’t currently have any strife, struggle, antagonism, or opportunity for anxiety, then there is peace. And a lot of us think that we can’t have any peace until we are suffering and irritation-free.

But from what the Bible says, the fruit-of-the-Spirit kind of peace, the kind that survives the most unpleasant of circumstances, was never meant to depend on anything or anyone but the Spirit of God Himself. It doesn’t show up when life gets easier. It shows up in the hard, in the conflict, in the chaos—because it’s rooted in Someone bigger than our circumstances: the Spirit of God Himself.

As Paul reminds us in Ephesians 2:14, “He Himself is our peace.” Not peace as a feeling. Not peace as a reward for getting everything right. Peace as a Person—Jesus. And where He is, peace is too.

That’s why peace isn’t something we muster, it’s Someone we set our minds on.

“For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace” (Romans 8:6, ESV).

That means the flesh may be screaming stress, but when we intentionally set our minds on the Spirit, we align ourselves with the deeper reality He offers: peace. And the best part? You don’t have to reengineer your life to find it. Peace is available right now, through Him. Hoo-ray!

Peace does not come from an absence of stressors; they will always be with us. Peace comes from the absence of anxiety ruling your heart. Even when war rages externally, God’s Spirit can create calm within. The truth is that peace in this life comes from your acceptance of suffering, not your exemption from it.

It’s the acceptance that is peace, the accepting of what is hard, without demanding that it first become easy. It’s a calm knowing, a restful confidence in the hands of a perfect God who holds even suffering within His perfect plan.

In 1956, Elisabeth Elliot heard the horrifying news that her husband Jim and four other men had been killed while attempting to bring the message of the gospel to the Auca Indians in Ecuador. These missionaries were killed by the very people they had gone to serve.

Elizabeth grieved. She had loved Jim with all her heart.

But that wasn’t the end of the story. She and her young daughter, Valerie, returned to the people who had taken the second-most-important man in their lives, to minister to them and to continue the work of teaching them about the saving love of Jesus Christ.

When asked how she could summon the courage to return to such a terrible place under such horrific conditions, she responded with words that should give us all a reason to believe peace is possible, even in the most tragic of trials. She said,

“The growth of all living green things wonderfully represents the process of receiving and relinquishing, gaining and losing, living and dying. . . . The truth is that it is ours to thank Him for and ours to offer back to Him, ours to relinquish, ours to lose, ours to let go of—if we want to find our true selves, if we want real life, if our hearts are set on glory.”^⁠

These are powerful words from a woman who had just suffered the loss of her husband, the father of her child. But consider this: if she could respond with such peace in the face of such sorrow, then peace truly isn’t dependent on circumstances.

If anyone had cause for the battles of worry, anger, and bitterness, Elisabeth Elliot did, yet peace was hers in the midst of it all.

And this peace can be yours, too, right in the middle of your mess. Because peace isn’t the prize for getting life under control; it’s the gift God gives when you finally stop trying to be in charge. The Spirit isn’t asking you to pretend things are fine or to ignore legitimate pain. He’s inviting you to rest in the truth that He sees what you cannot and holds what you can’t manage. Peace grows when you stop treating every stressor as your personal assignment and remember that God never asked you to run the world. He only asked you to walk with Him in it.

This is an excerpt from my upcoming book Fruitful, releasing February 1! Can’t wait until them? Ok, you can grab it at Amazon.com today because you're a subscriber, and subscribers get early access!