On a scale of one to ten, how much peace do you have? My answer varies day to day. When my kids aren’t irritable, the checkbook and the budget are balanced, I’m caught up on housework and I’m not under a work deadline, my peace rating is high (even though the odds of all four things happening simultaneously are quite low).

What does the phrase “absolute peace” do to you? Absolute seems too lofty to me. It’s as unrealistic as expecting Ed McMahon to show up at my door tomorrow and tell me I’m now a millionaire. But just this morning I found this term in the Bible accompanied by another hard-to-attain concept. A quick glance at the following verses reveals this peace companion: Romans 1:7, I Corinthians 1:3, 2 Corinthians 1:2, Ephesians 1:2, Philippians 1:2, Colossians 1:2, I Thessalonians 1:1, 2 Thessalonians 1:2, I Timothy 1:2, Titus 1:4, Philemon 1:3, 2 John 1:3, Revelation 1:5, and in case the connection isn’t obvious enough yet,

Grace and peace be yours in abundance.” 1 Peter 1:2

Grace is linked to peace. I long for peace, yet all too often I withhold grace. I want others to bestow it on me, but administering it is quite a different story. But Matthew 6:14 cuts to my heart:

For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.”

Agh! It’s a condition. If I forgive others, then my heavenly Father will forgive me. I want peace. I need God’s forgiveness. How then do we forgive the unforgiveable? What do we tell the woman who stood by her husband’s side through good times and bad, only to discover his unfaithfulness? And what of the young girl who had her innocence stripped by a trusted friend or family member? I’m ill-equipped to provide a sufficient answer, but what I do know, both personally and from others, is that ultimately we can’t afford not to forgive. Holding onto a grudge isn’t worth the lack of peace it will cause us. Nor is the realization that God will withhold his forgiveness from us if we don’t.

I don’t want to leave you without some practical ways in which to forgive, yet the subject is so vast that it’s impossible to condense it into one page. Here’s just one technique I learned that helps me. If you’re struggling with the massive task of trying to forgive someone, let me offer a starting place. Les Greenberg, a noted researcher of psychotherapy at York University, recommends the empty chair technique.1 Place an empty chair in a room and envision the person you are trying to forgive sitting it in. “Tell” them everything that is bothering you. Ask why they took the actions they did. Do whatever is necessary. When you’re done, put yourself in their shoes. Sit in the chair and try your best to authentically answer the questions you posed to him/her. As you begin seeing things from their perspective, you might find it easier to forgive them.

At times forgiveness will seem costly. It is. But as one who’s been there (and one who continues to struggle in this area), it’s worth it. C’mon girlfriends, let’s claim the abundant peace offered to us.

"I have only one ambition left, to be completely at peace with myself. I doubt if I shall ever manage it. I do not think it is possible for anyone… I do not know any man, however successful, who is completely happy." (Tan, P.L. Encyclopedia of 7700 Illustrations.  Garland, TX:  Bible Communications.  1996, c1979.)

Georges Simenon, famed novelist with more titles translated than any other writer except Stalin, spoke these hopeless words.  I fear to think that there would be any truth to his sentiments.  If a man with such breadth of success can be lacking in peace and happiness, I wonder if peace is possible for me.  Is there a place of perfect peace within, a state of quiet contentment which transcends both accomplishment and failure, joy and pain?  Is there there a harbor of peace where I can lay anchor and enjoy an enduring respite in the midst of day-to-day life?

The hopelessness of Simenon’s statement sounds similar to my complaints.  As a mother of three boys, two of which are teenagers, seldom do I want anything more than a little peace. Sounds simple enough. I’m not asking for much, am I?  An absence of conflict. Relief from our schedule. Tranquility and quiet. Rest for my depleted heart and life free from uncertainty.  However, life seems to have turned a deaf ear to my request.

"All men desire peace, but few desire the things that make for peace."  (Kempis, Thomas A.  Light For My Path.  Humble Creek:  Ulrichsville, OH, 1999)

Did you know that the word “peace” appears in the NIV 260 times?  Pretty significant, I would say.  God does not desire for us to live in a state of constant upheaval.  Our lives were meant to be characterized by peace.  Peace that is independent of our unpredictable circumstances or volatile emotions. Peace that transcends all understanding to give us confident assurance even in the throes of gut-wrenching pain, a ridiculous schedule or unending conflict.  Then perhaps, as Kempis said, our lack of peace is due to the fact we fail to desire the things that make true peace.  

After considering these "things that make for peace,"  I believe there exist at least three anchors which keep us moored in a harbor of peace.  First, peace comes to the extent that we know and believe in God’s never-ending love. (Isaiah 49:15-16, Romans 8:38-39, Isaiah 54:5, Zephaniah 3:17).  As our belief deepens, our perspective shifts.  Believing in God’s love then carries us to a place of confidence in God’s perfect provision. (Romans 8:32, Isaiah 26:3). The everyday worries and fears evaporate as we bank on God’s promise to provide.  Finally, our own peace strengthens when we live as a beacon of peace to others. (Matthew 6:21, Luke 6:38, Proverbs 14:30). To chart a new course and swim against the popular current of materialism and greed, my husband and I are trying to intentionally forge a different focus.  Though we still have a long ways to go, we have discovered an enduring and unexplainable peace as we have attempted to become more aware of the needs outside our neighborhood, community and nation. 

God’s peace is a lighthouse, sending its beacon and calling us to calm waters. He invites us out of our circumstances and into his rest. When I believe God’s eternal love for me and rely on his perfect provision, I move to a place of unwavering confidence in his plan. When I dock in this harbor of peace, I find it is more beautiful, more sufficient and more complete than anything I have yet experienced or imagined. The natural response, then, is to wave my own flag of safety and invite others into the harbor of peace I’ve found. This, in and of itself, is a mainstay for my own sense of peace. Regularly rehearsing God’s love, provision and safety by being a beacon of peace to those in their own storms reminds me to remain anchored where it is safe–in the refuge of my God. (Psalm 91)

I’m not sure where you’ll find yourself today, but chances are you will be buoyed by a few waves. The One who walked on raging waters and mastered threatening storms with a word holds his hand to you in an invitation to peace.

Shalom. Peace be with you!