Good morning, Dear Reader,
Today I offer a
reflection on two thoughts that at first seem to speak about different kinds of
peace.
“Nowhere
can man find a quieter or more untroubled retreat than in his own soul.”
—Marcus Aurelius
And
“We
cannot buy our own peace of mind at the expense of others.”
—Alcoholics Anonymous, Twelve Steps
and Twelve Traditions, p. 84
Consider this:
one thought turns us inward, while the other turns our attention toward those
around us. Yet I believe they describe two sides of the same spiritual truth.
All too often I
have believed that my personal peace would come if only something outside of me
would change—if another person behaved differently, if a problem disappeared,
if circumstances became easier, or if the past could somehow be rewritten.
Yet through
lived experience, I have come to understand that life rarely grants me that
kind of control.
So, as Marcus
Aurelius reminds me, I must look elsewhere for the peace I seek.
In Recovery, I
have discovered that within each of us there is a quiet place where we can
examine our thoughts, surrender what we cannot change, and decide how we will
respond to what life has placed before us.
In my case,
prayer and meditation have become part of entering that quiet place.
It is there that I can ask:
·
What belongs to me?
·
What must I release?
·
What can I change?
·
What kind of person do I wish to be when I leave
this quiet place and return to the world?
There
is another important lesson here.
Inner peace
cannot simply mean protecting myself from discomfort.
·
Sometimes what looks like peace is actually
avoidance.
·
I might remain silent because speaking truth
would be uncomfortable.
·
I might withdraw rather than make amends.
·
I might insist upon getting my own way because
surrender feels too difficult.
It is entirely
possible that I might even convince myself I am protecting my serenity while
leaving someone else to carry the consequences of my actions.
This is where
the wisdom of Alcoholics Anonymous becomes important:
We cannot purchase our own peace at another
person’s expense.
True serenity
does not require someone else to lose theirs.
The peace
discovered within the soul should eventually appear in our relationships—with
greater patience, honesty, forgiveness, humility, and a willingness to make
things right.
Jesus taught:
“Blessed
are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.”
—Matthew 5:9, KJV
Notice that He
did not simply bless those who possess
peace. He blessed those who make
peace.
I have come to
accept that this begins with me.
When I enter
the quiet sanctuary of the soul, I pray. I listen. I examine myself honestly. I
allow God to straighten what has become confused within me. Then I carry that
peace back into the world.
I try not to
demand that others change so that I may be peaceful. Instead, I ask how my own
words and actions might become instruments of peace.
I am learning
that serenity is not isolation from other people.
It is learning
to remain spiritually grounded while living among them.
The quiet
retreat Marcus Aurelius describes is therefore not a place in which I hide from
life.
It is a place
where I prepare myself to return to life differently.
So I ask you, Dear Reader: Is
the peace you seek meant only to quiet your own soul, or can the peace you
discover within become peace offered to those around you?
If we choose
the latter, then I believe we may be discovering something deeper than
tranquility.
We may be
discovering the peace Christ spoke of when He said:
“Peace
I leave with you, my peace I give unto you.”
—John 14:27, KJV
Perhaps that is
the peace I am seeking—not simply freedom from disturbance, but the kind of
peace that changes how I respond to others.
Peace begins within, but Christ asks me to
carry it beyond myself.
And when I am
uncertain how to do that, perhaps there remains one simple question worth
asking:
“What
would Christ do?”
The choice,
ultimately, is ours. For my part, I choose the peace that comes from asking
that question.
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