Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. – John 14:27 (ESV)
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. – Philippians 4:6-7
In this second week of Advent, Christ speaks directly into the anxieties and uncertainties that often accompany our waiting: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.” The peace Jesus offers is not a fragile or temporary feeling. It isn’t dependent on circumstances. It is His own peace – springing from His presence, His authority, and His unshakable victory. It is a gift, not a reward.
Paul echoes this when he urges believers to bring every concern before God with prayer and thanksgiving. The promise is astonishing: “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding” will guard our hearts and minds. This is peace that doesn’t always make sense; peace that doesn’t come because something changed around us, but because God is faithfully at work within us.
Every year as the Advent season approaches, I feel the weight of a date I wish I never had to remember – the anniversary of my son Trevor’s death. This year marks 14 years. I love the peace God has given me… a real peace, a sustaining peace, but as that date draws close, my heart still aches, and sometimes the sorrow comes in waves I don’t expect.
For a long time, I wrestled with the tension: if I truly have Christ’s peace, why does this day still hurt so deeply? But the longer I walk with the Lord, the more I realize that the presence of grief does not mean the absence of Christ’s peace. His peace doesn’t erase loss. It holds me through it. It guards my heart in the places that still feel fragile.
Every year, as painful as it is, I see again the miracle Paul describes – a peace that “surpasses all understanding”, not because my grief disappears, but because Christ meets me in it. I can feel sorrow and still be held. I can miss Trevor with all my heart and still know that the Prince of Peace is close, steady, and faithful. This is the peace Jesus gives – not a peace that depends on forgetting pain, but a peace that accompanies me faithfully through it.
As we wait for Christ’s coming, we’re invited to rest in His gift of peace – present, guarding, and surpassing what our minds can grasp. He doesn’t give as the world gives, but as the Savior who holds all things together.