We often think of peace as the absence of trouble, noise, conflict, or war. But this kind of peace is fragile because it depends on what is missing. It is like still water in a glass—easily disturbed by the slightest shake.
Are you always in a hurry but always late?
Published May 25, 2025 12:05 am
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Updated May 24, 2025 03:27 pm
A more enduring peace is one that is brought about by the presence of something. St. Augustine defines peace as the “tranquility of order.” Peace is the internal harmony we experience when there is order in our life. Just as a disordered life breeds stress, anxiety, and confusion, when we put our life in order, peace naturally arises.
Order is not about a rigid, mechanical structure of thoughts, actions, and routines. Rather, it’s about aligning our values, responsibilities, and goals in a coherent, purposeful way. It means prioritizing what matters most, managing our time wisely, and responding to life’s challenges mindfully.
When our life is in order, we engage in our daily activities in a manner that gives us the mental and emotional space to rest, reflect, and enjoy the ordinary miracles that God surprise us with. Life becomes less overwhelming and more meaningful.
One reason why we do not have peace is, we squander our energy on trivialities while neglecting those that are truly important . As a result, the tasks we begin remain unfinished, relationships become strained, and our minds become cluttered with everything that competes for our attention. We rush through life, always in a hurry, yet perpetually late.
Today, many world leaders and shakers talk about “making peace,” as though peace is something they can make or build. They usually do this at a large table with serious faces, lukewarm coffee, and the occasional passive-aggressive remark. It involves compromise, negotiation, and a lot of double talk masquerading as diplomacy.
In one sense, it is all right to talk about "making" peace if we mean that peace does not simply happen, but must be the fruit of mindful choices and intentional actions. In this light, peace can indeed be built—shaped through dialogue, compassion, and mutual respect. It involves listening instead of arguing, forgiving instead of retaliating, and seeking understanding over victory. Peace becomes a collaborative process—much like building a bridge.
Yet there is another side to peace that resists being manufactured. We can create the conditions for peace, but we cannot fabricate its essence. Like love or joy, peace is both cultivated and received. We build the garden, but peace is the flower that chooses to bloom. It is not a human invention, but a divine gift—something given, not produced.
In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives” (John 14:27). This peace is a divine gift that goes beyond human understanding (Philippians 4:7). It protects our hearts and minds even in times of trial, loss, and uncertainty. The peace Jesus offers does not come from our efforts to eliminate conflict and disorder in our lives. Instead, it comes from being open to the presence of the Holy Spirit who gently brings order to our lives, helping us rise above the chaos we find ourselves in.
The peace of the Holy Spirit requires a daily act of surrender. It comes not through control, but through letting go. We do not hammer peace into place; we make space for it to emerge.
As one passage in a poem goes: “When we allow God to take control of our life, every storm becomes a calm, the tumult becomes peace, what cannot be done is done, the unbearable becomes bearable, and we pass the breaking point without breaking. For to walk with Christ is to conquer the storm.”