I've been hoping to be able to post a link to the video of my PhD oral defense here on the blog, but it has not been made available yet. In the meantime, here's a devotional column I wrote recently for publication in my local hometown newspaper:
The Peace that Passes Understanding
I can remember, as a child in Sunday School, hearing a turn of phrase in songs and teachings that always stuck with me: “the peace that passes understanding.” It spoke of a blessing, a sense of rest and harmony that no ups or downs of daily life could touch: a peace that was beyond comprehension, unexplainable by any cause except God’s own work in one’s life. This phrase comes from Philippians 4:7, as part of a lovely promise. Here it is in the words of a more modern translation: “And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
This promise is winsome and beautiful, but to understand how one obtains the promise, you have to look back at what came before. Here’s the preceding verse: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God” (Phil. 4:6). In this context, the promise becomes clear—the peace of God is a gift that is given in response to our regular, faithful, daily act of praying. In every situation, we are called to present our requests to God.
But notice that verse 6 also gives us an intriguing command: “Do not be anxious about anything.” How is it possible not to be anxious, when our feelings get worked up by the busyness of life and the whirlwind of bad news that surrounds us in this age of terrorism, wars, and pandemics? We don’t have any control over those external events, so how can we control whether or not we feel anxiety?
The Bible isn’t telling us not to feel our genuine feelings, but rather is instructing us what to do with those feelings. Here’s how I like to explain it: Imagine that all your worries are drops of water, filling up a basin that you hold in your arms. As more and more of life’s busyness and tragedies come your way, those drops continue filling up the basin, making it heavier and heavier. At this point you have two options. You can either just keep holding that basin and all the water in it—letting the worries of life drive you into deeper anxiety, getting heavier and heavier—or you can just dump them all out of the basin. By holding onto them, you are choosing anxiety. But the verse tells us to pour them all out—do not be anxious, but instead, in every situation, present your requests to God. Rather than holding onto your worries, turn them into prayers instead. Pour them out to the Lord. If you’re a person who’s just naturally a worrier, that doesn’t have to be a negative thing; it could mean that you are equipped to be a great prayer-warrior, always interceding for your family and community.
If we can do this, turning our worries into prayers, then the promise of God’s peace becomes applicable to our situation. The peace that passes understanding—a peace that literally makes no sense at all, given what’s going on in our lives—is on offer for us. How? By turning over our worries and fears about things that we cannot control to One who reigns supreme over them all. When the situation is given to God, we can have peace. That doesn’t mean that everything will always work out perfectly, but it does mean that we can hold onto a deep, restful sense of hope even in the most tumultuous of times.
This promise is winsome and beautiful, but to understand how one obtains the promise, you have to look back at what came before. Here’s the preceding verse: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God” (Phil. 4:6). In this context, the promise becomes clear—the peace of God is a gift that is given in response to our regular, faithful, daily act of praying. In every situation, we are called to present our requests to God.
But notice that verse 6 also gives us an intriguing command: “Do not be anxious about anything.” How is it possible not to be anxious, when our feelings get worked up by the busyness of life and the whirlwind of bad news that surrounds us in this age of terrorism, wars, and pandemics? We don’t have any control over those external events, so how can we control whether or not we feel anxiety?
The Bible isn’t telling us not to feel our genuine feelings, but rather is instructing us what to do with those feelings. Here’s how I like to explain it: Imagine that all your worries are drops of water, filling up a basin that you hold in your arms. As more and more of life’s busyness and tragedies come your way, those drops continue filling up the basin, making it heavier and heavier. At this point you have two options. You can either just keep holding that basin and all the water in it—letting the worries of life drive you into deeper anxiety, getting heavier and heavier—or you can just dump them all out of the basin. By holding onto them, you are choosing anxiety. But the verse tells us to pour them all out—do not be anxious, but instead, in every situation, present your requests to God. Rather than holding onto your worries, turn them into prayers instead. Pour them out to the Lord. If you’re a person who’s just naturally a worrier, that doesn’t have to be a negative thing; it could mean that you are equipped to be a great prayer-warrior, always interceding for your family and community.
If we can do this, turning our worries into prayers, then the promise of God’s peace becomes applicable to our situation. The peace that passes understanding—a peace that literally makes no sense at all, given what’s going on in our lives—is on offer for us. How? By turning over our worries and fears about things that we cannot control to One who reigns supreme over them all. When the situation is given to God, we can have peace. That doesn’t mean that everything will always work out perfectly, but it does mean that we can hold onto a deep, restful sense of hope even in the most tumultuous of times.