The Peace of God Will Guard Your Hearts and Minds
/“Have no anxiety at all, but in everything,
by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving,
make your requests known to God.
Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding
will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
. . . whatever is true, whatever is honorable,
whatever is just, whatever is pure,
whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious,
if there is any excellence
and if there is anything worthy of praise,
think about these things.”
I’ve got to say, this has been a wake-me-up-when-September-ends kind of season so far, and I’m so relieved that October has finally started. In mid-August the landlord of the God Space house let us know that she was putting the house up for sale, and since then my life has been about house hunting and finding, cleaning, packing, unpacking, and general chaos. It’s been weeks of worrying and fear, with a touch of anger, and a bucket full of stress. Maybe you’ve been in similarly stressful situations, so you might understand my angst in all of this.
With everything going on, this reading from Philippians feels super challenging. “Have no anxiety at all.” Yeah, because that’s easy. “Then the peace of God . . . will guard your hearts and minds.” I wish it would. This reading tells me to think about whatever is true, pure, lovely, etcetera, but I don’t always want to think nice thoughts. Even though it’s sucky, like a mud hole that takes your shoe, there’s something in me that wants to slog through the mire of it all. And as I’m schlepping along, I notice just how unguarded my thoughts have been. Rumination certainly doesn’t solve anything, so why do I do this to myself?
I’m wired to be a worrier, I just am, and during calmer times I can manage it a bit or at least see it as self-protective. Worrying feels like something to do to prepare myself for difficulty, even though most of what I worry about doesn’t come true. Anger, too, can be protective and productive if it moves me to change, but usually it becomes an echo chamber where small irritations just get louder and louder as they bounce around in my head. And sadness. It’s important to acknowledge sad emotions, but to take them in, embrace them, and bury my face in them tends to make everything look bleak. Fixating on these negative things only disrupts my peace.
The truth is, there are things in my life that are difficult and disappointing, but there are also plenty of things that are lovely, gracious, excellent, and worthy of praise. All our lives are a mixture of peace and drama, joy and sadness, gift and loss. Exclusively dwelling on the negative is only part of the picture. This reading invites me to discipline my thoughts. It’s not about what’s happening, but how I think about what’s happening. I am more than my thoughts and feelings, but when I give myself over to them, I allow them to take over the whole of me, which can do me more harm than the negative thing itself.
What if, instead of preoccupying myself with that which evokes anxiety, sadness, and anger, I was to spend equal time contemplating all the good things that also happen? I don’t mean that in the falsely positive way that some people sometimes use to avoid dealing with life. I’m thinking of when, in the face of hard things, people say, “just be grateful” or “at least [insert worse scenario]” or “maybe if you [insert unsolicited advice],” or, the worst, “it must be God’s will.” Yikes, no. That’s not what I mean. What I mean is trying to guard my thoughts so that I don’t fixate on bad things but rather acknowledge them and also notice all the good things too. There are unexpected gifts that emerge, and people who mean a lot to me, and now a new space to decorate, and all the ways God enters into my day, every day, moment by moment.
Shifting my attention this way takes intention and some hard work. I definitely need God’s help. I trust, though, that if I pray out of my gratitude as well as my need, I will open myself to God and God’s transformation. Redirecting my thoughts, turning them from negativity and lack to gratitude and abundance, is a way of restoring the peace of God that’s already within me. Focusing my thoughts and feelings on the things that are of God reminds me how present God is in my life.
We can’t change the sludge we have to walk through. There are things that happen that are genuinely difficult. Our lives are full of pain, discouragement, and even trauma. That’s real. God doesn’t ask us to deny our heartbreaks, and we have to deal with them to work toward healing. However, God does want to protect us from the further harm that comes from ruminating on negativity. Equally real are the things that are of God, things that are true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, gracious, excellent, and worthy of praise. There is abundance and not just lack. There is goodness and not just suffering. What if we spend some of our prayer reflecting on the good in our lives and some of it sharing the difficult things with God? Prayer, petition, thanksgiving. “Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard [our] hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”
For reflection:
When you pause to examine the thoughts and feelings that have been emerging in you lately, what do you notice?
How do you tend to deal with negative thoughts and emotions? When you dwell on difficult emotions, what happens in you? And where is God?
When you focus on positive things, what happens in you? Where is God?
Maybe you could take a little time and talk this over with God and see what God has to say to you.
By Sister Leslie Keener, CDP
Sister Leslie Keener, CDP is the director of God Space, a community-building spirituality ministry in Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky. She’s a Sister of Divine Providence with a Masters in Ministry and a Certificate in Spiritual Direction and Retreats from Creighton University. She directs retreats, meets with people for spiritual direction, and serves as the vocation director for her community. She also serves on the Board of Spiritual Directors International. She enjoys music, dancing, and meaningful conversations.