The Silence Between the Words

When Jesus spoke, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you," He was not offering a concept to be grasped but a Presence to be received. Thomas Merton understood this distinction. He wrote that we spend our lives "competing with one another for worthless prizes," drowning out the very stillness where Christ's peace already dwells.

Consider what happens in centering prayer. You choose your sacred word — perhaps "peace" itself — and you sit. Within moments the mind rebels. Grocery lists surface. Old arguments replay. The body fidgets. This is not failure. This is the false self being gently exposed, layer after layer, like paint peeling from a wall to reveal the original wood beneath.

Teresa of Avila described the soul's interior castle, where God waits in the innermost room. Christ's peace in John 14:27 is not found in the outer chambers — the busy rooms of achievement, worry, and striving. It lives in that center place, beyond thought, where the Beloved simply is.

"Not as the world gives do I give to you." The world's peace depends on circumstances aligning. The peace of Christ requires only one thing: consent. A quiet turning inward. A willingness to stop speaking long enough to hear what the Spirit has been whispering all along.

Today, offer God ten minutes of silence. Not silence filled with requests, but silence held open like cupped hands. His peace is not something you must chase. It is already given. You need only become still enough to know it.