When the world feels uncertain and restless, the call to inner peace can seem out of reach. News cycles move from one crisis to the next, and even within your own circles there may be grief, division or fatigue. Yet the Christian understanding of peace is not about avoiding turmoil. It is about recognising that peace comes from God’s steadfast presence, not from the stability of your surroundings.
Jesus told his disciples, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives” (John 14:27). These words were spoken before his arrest and death, when fear among his followers was about to intensify. He did not promise comfort or safety. He promised his peace. This distinction matters. The world’s peace depends on conditions – security, success, the absence of threat. The peace of Christ depends on relationship. You are invited to rest in the assurance that your life is held by God, even when nothing else seems steady.
When you feel anxious, you may instinctively want to resist or suppress it. Scripture, however, gives space for honest emotion. The psalms contain laments that name fear, anger, and confusion without shame. “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him” (Psalm 42:5). These are not the words of someone who has achieved serenity, but of someone learning to live faithfully within uncertainty. When you sit with your anxiety, you are not failing in faith. You are doing what generations of believers have done – bringing your unrest before God.
Recent popular culture offers its own reflection on this idea. In Inside Out 2, Pixar introduces Anxiety as a new character in the mind of a teenage girl. Anxiety is not depicted as an enemy to be defeated but as part of what it means to grow and navigate life. The film recognises that emotions like fear, worry, and even panic can have a place in shaping maturity. The challenge is not to silence them but to understand them. Likewise, faith does not require you to erase anxiety but to bring it into relationship with God’s peace. Just as the characters in Inside Out 2 learn that every emotion contributes to a fuller picture of the self, you can learn to let your emotions tell the truth about what you value and what you fear, without letting them take control.
Psalm 46 declares, “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” This psalm imagines mountains falling into the sea and nations in uproar, yet still calls you to “be still, and know that I am God.” Stillness here does not mean passivity. It is a deliberate act of trust. You are not asked to fix everything that is broken, but to remember that God remains present in the midst of it. When you make space for stillness, you are not withdrawing from reality but grounding yourself in a deeper one.
The apostle Paul wrote to the Philippians from prison, reminding them to turn their anxiety into prayer. “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God” (Philippians 4:6). The instruction is not to ignore anxiety but to redirect it. Prayer becomes an act of release – a conscious surrender of the need to control outcomes. Paul continues, “And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” This peace does not depend on explanation. It is not earned through effort. It is a grace that enters when you let go of the illusion that peace must mean the end of conflict.
You protect your inner life by shaping your attention. What you dwell on forms what you feel. When you are surrounded by noise, constant information, and competing demands, protecting your peace means choosing what deserves your focus. Limiting what feeds fear is not denial; it is discernment. You do not need to absorb every outrage or carry every burden that appears before you. The practice of silence can help reset your inner landscape. A few minutes of quiet prayer each day – breathing slowly, repeating a simple phrase such as “Lord, have mercy” or “Be still and know” – can help you recognise that God’s presence does not depend on your performance or productivity.
Community also matters. The peace that Christ gives is not only personal but shared. When you gather in worship, pray together, or support one another through hardship, you participate in God’s reconciling work. In John’s Gospel, Jesus links peace directly with the gift of the Holy Spirit. “As the Father has sent me, so I send you” (John 20:21). The peace he gives is not a private possession but a resource for mission. You are called to live peacefully so that others may encounter the same grounding presence through you.
The theologian Augustine described peace as “the tranquility of order” – a life aligned with God’s purposes. When your priorities are ordered toward love of God and neighbour, inner peace becomes more than a feeling. It becomes a way of seeing. You begin to understand that even when the world feels chaotic, creation itself remains held within divine order. This understanding does not erase pain or uncertainty, but it prevents despair from having the final word.
Protecting yourself in anxious times does not mean withdrawing from the world or pretending all is well. It means staying present to what is real without being consumed by it. Jesus did not isolate himself from human suffering. He entered fully into it, yet remained centred in his Father’s will. When you follow his example, you learn to hold anxiety with gentleness rather than judgment. You acknowledge what you feel but refuse to let it define you.
You might find strength in Jesus’ invitation in Matthew 11:28: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Rest here is not escape but restoration. It is the quiet confidence that your worth and security do not depend on circumstances. When you rest in Christ, you allow his peace to do its quiet work of renewal.
To have inner peace, even now, is to live from trust rather than fear. It is to remember that God’s love is not threatened by political turmoil, personal loss, or uncertainty about the future. The peace of Christ holds steady through all of it. When you return to that truth, again and again, you begin to discover that peace is not something you achieve but something you receive. And as you receive it, you become a bearer of it – calm in presence, compassionate in action, and confident that even when all around you is unsettled, God remains faithful.
