by Nancy Roth

What is inner peace — a phrase nearly as indefinable as the word love? Is it the absence of conflict and pain or the ability to ignore them? Can we call it up with in ourselves or is it a gift from God? Is it even possible in this turbulent world?

I have always found that, in addition to Scripture, texts written by later saints and poets are profound spiritual resources. One of my favorites is "They Cast Their Nets" (originally titled "His Peace"), a 1924 hymn by William Alexander Percy, a Mississippi–born lawyer and poet. The hymn reminds us how many of the disciples were simple fisher folk before they answered the call to follow Jesus. That call led many of them to martyr’s deaths. A telling line in the hymn is: "The peace of God, it is no peace, but strife closed in the sod."

That line offers truth because it avoids sketching an artificial peace that comes from fooling ourselves about reality. Ignoring the pain and suffering around us or within us cannot work in the long run. Drawn by the charisma of a young Galilean preacher, these fisher folk discovered that their lives took a turn that was anything but peaceful. The impetuous Peter, according to tradition, was fleeing Rome during the persecution under Nero when he saw a vision of Christ and turned back to meet a martyr’s death. It is also doubtful that John — either the beloved disciple or the writer of Revelation (some biblical scholars tell us that these were different people) — lived an easy life.

"The peace of God" known by Peter and John emanated from something deep within them, even along with the "strife closed in the sod" of their turbulent lives. It gave them an unshakable sense of joy in the presence of the risen Christ and enabled them to live fully, no matter what the circumstances.

How About Us?
Inevitably, our personal experiences and world events are reminders that strife is part of human life. Whether it was when shots rang out in Dallas in 1963 or when the twin towers fell in New York in 2001, many of us can identify the moment when we were forced to leave behind childhood’s sense of security and confront our own fragility. Ours is, increasingly, an age of anxiety.

Most of us long for the marvelous peace of God. And that peace is not reserved for apostles like Peter and John. It is not reserved for mystics like the fourteenth century hermit Julian of Norwich, who looked out her cell window upon an England torn by rebellion and decimated by plague, yet was still able to write, "All shall be well." It is not reserved for saints like Teresa of Avila, who trudged around Spain establishing new convents, dealing with surly mule–drivers and flea–infested inns, carrying a prayer book with her words on a bookmark: "Who has God lacks nothing." Nor is it reserved for martyrs like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who wrote to his mother shortly before his execution, "By gracious powers so wonderfully sheltered, and confidently waiting come what may, we know that God is with us night and morning, and never fails to greet us each new day."

Instead, the peace of God is every person’s birthright. But how can we find it in surroundings that hardly make that easy? First, we need to recognize that inner peace is a gift, constantly waiting for us to receive it. The following suggestions are ways for us to open our selves to receive that gift. Each is based on a theological understanding of who we are as human beings in relation to God.

Centering Prayer
In one of my first books, The Breath of God, I offer my understanding of prayer as providing "breathing space" within ourselves for God’s ruach (life–giving breath). Whether we use words, reflection, or silent presence (sometimes called contemplation, meditation, or centering prayer), we are opening ourselves to God. Prayer transforms our inner landscape because it welcomes God’s healing, love, strength, and peace into our hearts, our souls, our psyches — our deepest self. I have found that centering prayer, prayer in which we are quietly attentive to God’s presence, has helped me exhale anxiety and inhale peace. Such prayer is like filling up a great reservoir with God’s peace. I find that spending twenty minutes every morning in such prayer is a wonderful practice for surrendering our anxieties to God during the times of turbulence in our lives.

Honoring the Body/Spirit Connection
As a musician and dancer, I experience the connection between my physical being and my spiritual self naturally. When I began to teach about prayer, I realized that this was not true for every one. But whether we realize it or not, our spiritual and emotional states are deeply affected by our bodies. I talk about this in my new book, Spiritual Exercises: Joining Body and Spirit in Prayer. For example, wherever you are — standing in line at the bank and anxious because you might be late for an appointment — get into your body. Be aware of your weight on the floor as a sign of your adamah (earthly self). Relax your diaphragm and invite oxygen to fill your lungs as you remember God’s life–giving ruach, always with you, as natural as your inhaling and exhaling.

Caring for the body through proper nutrition and exercise helps open us to inner peace in at least two ways. One, I discovered that Ican think of nothing but what I’m doing when I’m in a dance class. Focusing on what we’re doing gives our anxiety muscles a rest! Yoga, Pilates, and t’ai chi are helpful in this way as well.

Second, exercise — especially aerobic exercise, such as brisk walking or bicycling — helps us use up the adrenalin produced by anxiety. Our bodies are hard-wired for action — fight or flight — when we feel threatened. Try exercising off the effects of extra anxiety and diffuse its energy, opening up to God’s gift of inner peace.

Understanding the Earth Itself as Healer
Many people connect their first childhood experiences of God with the outdoors. For me, the top of the maple tree in our backyard was a holy place. As we grow older, we continue to be nurtured through connection with the natural world, as many gardeners can attest. When I am troubled, I find it calming to take a walk and immerse myself in the beauty and wonder of God’s creation. The small delights of seeing a snow–covered branch, a spring violet, or a grazing deer can help lighten a heavy heart and prepare the way for God’s gift of peace.

Monitor the Imagination
One of the drawbacks of being human is that we often worry too much. If you have a vivid imagination, the problem can be even worse. After September 11, 2001, I worried about our son and his family in New York to the point where I had to consciously tell my imagination, "Stop it!" Fretting brings no gain. Instead, we must fill our imaginations with positive images, by turning to Scripture, watching an uplifting play or a beautiful ballet, listening to Bach or Mozart, or reading a great novel. We should draw on the brain’s capacity for order, reason, and logic to pull us out of emotional chaos.

Holy Action
I suspect that the secret of the apostles’ ministries lay in the holy action that flowed from their sense of Christ’s presence with them. The peace of God ideally takes us out of ourselves and into the world. Finding God’s peace at our center gives us the desire and hope for peace in our world. The effect of inner peace is an outer life dedicated to the peace, justice, and love preached by Jesus. It is a blessed circle. As we live our lives in accordance with that message, our own inner peace will grow. And the more our own inner peace grows, the more effective we will be in contributing to peace and justice in our world — however we are called to do so, through family life, professional vocations, or political activism.

In John’s Gospel, chapter 20, the disciples are pictured paralyzed with fear, huddled behind locked doors. Suddenly, Jesus stands among them and says, "Peace be with you." He shows them his hands and his side, and again says, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." Then he breathes on them, with the words, "Receive the Holy Spirit."

For Christians, this passage is a recapitulation of the Hebrew creation story. This time, God’s ruach is breathed not only into an individual, but into a community, reminding us that our solitary quest for inner peace is best sustained and encouraged by the company of others. This time it is the second Adam, the one who came to show us and tell us what God is like, who breathes on the disciples — and on us. Revealing his wounds, he shows them that the peace of God is both hidden and revealed in the strife of human life. Then he gives them the gift of the Spirit — the ruach of God — and charges them with a mission: Rather than keeping that Spirit to themselves, they are to find themselves and leave themselves by taking the love they have encountered in that small upper room out to the whole world.