I get annoyed when I don’t have anything to write about, so this might go nowhere. The age old say goes like this: “Worrying does not remove tomorrow’s troubles yet robs us of today’s peace.”
It paraphrases the saying of Jesus, actually: “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Matthew 6:34)
There is so much wisdom in the idea of quarantining peace by the harbouring of joy.
Peace, by the very nature of the word, commands the present tense. We talk less about peace in terms of yesterday or tomorrow, certainly as far as our personal inner peace is concerned.
I’ve said for a long time now that there is a coalescence in the triune concept of peace, hope, and joy. When we’re at peace, we have access to hope and joy. It’s the same whichever way you look at it with these three.
But let’s take a moment to press into the concept of the present, entreating joy that shimmers in the front of peace, buoyed by hope.
How exactly do we get there when we are despairing and anything but at peace?
Peace never seems to come at such a premium as when we are without it. Indeed, it’s when peace is absent that we learn deepest of all its unequivocal value for our wellbeing.
A lack of joy today empties tomorrow of its hope, and both these reveal a lack of peace.
Peace evades us when we want stuff, recognition, to be entertained, to be someone else. A lack of peace is centrally about not being satisfied with the status quo.
The ability any of us has to embody peace is directly linked to our ability to be content exactly how things are right now—even as if nothing would change. This is far easier than any of us contemplates. God taught me about spiritual peace most when I had nothing, when I felt most alone, when I frequently had nothing to do, when I was stuck in not being able to shift out of my circumstances.
Anyone can do this, to enter into learning how to secure peace when peace is absent. In fact, that’s when peace is closer than ever. When it’s absent and we truly crave it.
The reason is simple. Peace is a decision. A decision primarily of acceptance. Which is humility. Accepting what cannot be changed in the moment is one full portion of serenity. It’s a smile despite the presence of the lamentable. If peace can be attained in trial, nothing can stop us claiming it.
What is done with such a moment of sitting still in our circumstances, not bargaining for a better deal, is mastery of that moment. Perspective arrives. Seeing with insight gives us the capacity to see the good. It’s only when we can see the good that we can be grateful.
Such sight is a gift, a miracle in its own right, a blessed spiritual possession. Such a thought breeds gratitude.
It’s entirely possible to see the good in any circumstances we face, and none of this is about emotional or spiritual bypassing. Whatever we face—and it could be the biggest hardship or suffering we’ve ever encountered—isn’t the whole story. Indeed, it’s usually the trials that actually put us in touch with the parts of life we’ve so long taken for granted. Trials are eye-openers, and it’s that truth that beckons freedom.
When we have peace, we have joy in the moment and tomorrow is full of hope.
Peace is closest by decision when we’re struggling, and we insist it’s possible by faith. It may not be retrieved immediately, but by faith we will find our way to it.
No comments:
Post a Comment