“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” — John 16:33
The Ache Beneath the Striving
I arrived in India in 1991, nineteen years old, heading to a monastery in Gujarat to train as a Hindu monk. Driving through the arid landscape at sunset, our car suddenly slowed. People were lying face down on the road, one after another. “What are they doing?” I asked. The driver answered casually, “Oh, they’re doing a Dandavat Yatra.” They would lie down, stand, walk to where their hands had touched the road, and lie down again, all the way from Dwarka to Vrindavan. Thirteen hundred and fifty kilometres.
When people see something like that, they often say, “Look at the legalism, the appeasement.” Maybe. But I’d rather ask: look at the hunger for connection and peace. What does this say about the soul’s desperate reach for transcendence? Before we critique the expression, we have to recognise the ache that lies beneath it.
What does the Bible say about peace?
Peace is often misunderstood as a gentle whisper that affirms that everything will be okay. But the Bible offers something weightier. Romans 16:20 says “the God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.” Not the God of war—the God of peace, because true peace doesn’t coexist with evil. It defeats it.
In short, peace isn’t the absence of chaos, it’s the presence of Christ in authority.
We see this in Mark Chapter 4, when Jesus sleeps through a storm violent enough to make seasoned fishermen panic. When awakened Jesus simply says to the wind and waves, “Quiet! Be still.” And they obey.
To grasp the strength of peace in Christ, imagine this: A gale on the Sea of Galilee can toss a two-ton boat like a paper cup in a washing machine. It’s the ancient equivalent of being trapped in a small car during a tornado, with no road, no brakes, and no control. The energy released by a thunderstorm can equal ten to twenty kilotons of TNT—the same scale as a small nuclear bomb.
And yet Jesus slept.
The disciples ask, “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!” because Jesus wasn’t just calming the storm from outside it. He carried peace into it.
A Man Anchored, A Man Adrift
Hudson Taylor, founder of the China Inland Mission, was so anchored in Christ that people said his presence alone brought calm into a room. He wrote: “I am no longer anxious about anything, as I realize the Lord is able to carry out His will, and His will is mine.” He called this the Exchanged Life.[1]
Contrast that with a memory from 1997. I was twenty-five, still a monk, visiting one of the world’s most prominent diamond merchants in Antwerp. He’d lost a son in a plane crash and was locked in a lawsuit over airline shares worth $500 million. Asked what he’d do if he lost the lawsuit, he shrugged: “I won’t kick up a fuss.” Later, in his palatial home, he turned to me quietly and said, “I just don’t have any peace in my heart.”
Here we both were, me detached from the world in monk’s robes, him surrounded by everything money could buy, both restless. Because peace doesn’t come from detachment or status. It comes from surrender. As Augustine put it, “Our hearts are restless until they find rest in Thee.”
Mary, Martha, and the Posture of Peace
In Luke 10, Martha is busy making the home fit for guests while Mary simply sits at Jesus’ feet, waiting on his words. Jesus says only one thing is truly needed. Martha is frantic while Mary sits seemingly oblivious to her busyness. This passage isn’t a case against activity, Hebrews tells us to “strive to enter His rest.” Instead, it’s about a posture. You can be doing ten things and still be at peace, or lying on a beach riddled with anxiety.
The common denominator in all of these stories and experiences is the presence or absence of Christ.
Jesus is the Prince of Peace
In the Bible, peace starts with a person and not a feeling.
Isaiah calls the coming Messiah the “Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6) and tells us that “the Lord will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in him” (Isaiah 26:3). Here we see that peace is granted to those who fix their eyes on Him. It’s granted to the Mary’s who lean into his word rather than the Martha’s who spend their time focussed on prepping the ‘right environment’, curating a set of favourable circumstances where we think peace can finally dwell.
Jesus makes the same point at the Last Supper: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” (John 14:27). Notice the distinction here. The world’s peace depends on the absence of trouble, where Jesus’ peace is given in the middle of it, which is why He can say in the very next breath, “do not be afraid.”
It is also why Paul, writing from a prison cell can say, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7). If just a feeling, then peace doesn’t seem that effective, however here it’s described as standing sentry over the mind like a soldier at a gate.
Closing reflections
Peace is not the absence of a storm, it’s the presence of someone greater than the storm. Let’s fix our eyes on Him. Sit at His feet. Stay in the boat. Acknowledge these deeper longings and see where they lead.
I love the idea of great answers to life’s big questions, but I know in my heart that God doesn’t answer all of the deep questions in my soul. What He does offer is His peace; a peace that transcends understanding, guards our hearts, and rules where fear once did.
References
- The Exchanged Life, A letter by J. Hudson Taylor, Chinkiang, October 17th, 1869, to his sister Amelia (Mrs. Broomhall), in England, in Howard Taylor, Hudson Taylor and the China Inland Mission: The Growth of a Work of God, Legare Street Press, 2022