Friday, April 23, 2010


Some days we have it and some we don’t. On a recent day I woke with such a resigned joy that it could only be described as a dense peace.

Driving to work was a funny experience. As I listened to the radio in my car I was not tempted once to channel-flick. My soul was in a numbed harmony with whatever was being played at the time. Nothing in the traffic was deterring me either. I simply moved calmly with its flow.

As I entered the work area I was destined for, the interactions with the people I had to see went like silk. There was nothing that blocked this sense of abiding peace. I was no threat to them and they weren’t a threat to me.

And yet throughout the day I wasn’t particularly happy or joyful per se.

Peace such as this is inexplicable. It feels as if it is simply in the state all its own; such a strange almost un-peace-like state.

This is a deep spiritual peace which comes not like the peace connected externally with joy and the outcomes in life. It’s the peace that transcends understanding—indeed, I connected it as the peace of the Lord (Philippians 4:6-7).

The best thing to do when such a peace comes is to simply allow it a place to rest, for we can buck it away because the typical joy doesn’t seem there. But a more deep-seated and resigned joy takes its place. If we take our time to ponder a cloud formation or appreciate any number of wonders around us, we’ll soon see that this sense of peace is fundamentally better than the other sort.

For starters, it is retained easier. Materialistic peace holds us more conditionally.

Spiritual peace can only come when we’re connected divinely with God.

I have often tried to describe or define the Hebrew word shalom, but it’s so rich a word it’s hard to find it its justice. But, as a state, this sense of resigned and deeply indwelt peace of holistic acceptance must come close.

© 2010 S. J. Wickham.

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