When God Teaches You a New Kind of Peace

Healing from the need for everything around me to be okay before I can be okay

Scripture Focus: Mark 4:35–41 (NRSVUE)

“Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” — Mark 4:40

Growing up, there were times when life felt like walking on waves.

I was loved. I was clothed and fed. I knew my parents loved me, and I don’t want to tell my childhood story in a way that erases that love.

But I was also an only child growing up with alcoholism in our home. Alongside the love was unpredictability. I didn’t always know what the next hour, or sometimes even the next few minutes, might bring.

I think that experience shaped something in me.

As I grew older, I pictured the family I would someday create. I imagined love, understanding, and forgiveness. I wanted a home where people could make mistakes and still find their way back to one another. I wanted my children to know that disagreements didn’t have to mean the end of a relationship.

I wanted steadiness.

And for many years, I thought I had found it.

Then one incident changed relationships within my family in a way I never expected.

The details aren’t mine alone to share, but the impact has remained. I have spent a lot of time wishing things could return to what they were, wondering whether relationships would heal and worrying about what might happen next.

Recently, however, I’ve started seeing my struggle differently.

Maybe I’ve been trying to make the waves stop.

And perhaps Jesus is teaching me that healing doesn’t require calm water before I can experience His peace.

Maybe healing is learning that I no longer have to be afraid every time the water moves.

When We Learn to Watch the Weather

When you’ve experienced unpredictability, paying attention can become second nature.

You notice changes in someone’s voice.

You sense tension.

You think ahead.

You wonder what could happen next.

Those instincts may once have helped us navigate situations we couldn’t control. But sometimes we carry them forward long after the circumstances have changed.

I can see some of that in myself.

When relationships within my family are unsettled, I want to know how everything is going to turn out.

Will everyone be okay?

Will forgiveness happen?

Will family gatherings become easier?

Will relationships ever return to what they once were?

Those questions can occupy an enormous amount of emotional space.

Yet Christ has been gently turning my attention toward another question:

Can I experience peace today even while some of those questions remain unanswered?

I’m beginning to believe the answer is yes.

Not because I don’t care.

Not because the relationships don’t matter.

And certainly not because I’ve stopped hoping.

But because my peace was never meant to depend upon my ability to keep everyone else’s waters calm.

What Does Mark 4:35–41 Teach Us?

Mark tells us that Jesus and His disciples were crossing the Sea of Galilee when a powerful windstorm arose.

The waves weren’t imaginary.

The boat really was filling with water.

The disciples weren’t frightened by something that existed only in their minds. They were experiencing a genuine storm.

Meanwhile, Jesus was asleep.

Terrified, the disciples woke Him:

“Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”

Jesus got up, rebuked the wind, and told the sea to be still. Then He asked His disciples why they were afraid and whether they still had no faith.

It’s tempting to read this passage as a promise that Jesus will remove every storm from our lives.

But Scripture doesn’t make that promise.

The disciples would face many more frightening and painful circumstances after this night.

The significance of the passage isn’t simply that Jesus can make difficult circumstances disappear. Mark is revealing something about who Jesus is. Even the wind and sea obey Him.

The disciples end the story asking:

“Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

That’s the question at the heart of the passage.

And it changes the question I bring to my own life.

Instead of only asking,

“Jesus, when are You going to make this stop?”

I can also ask,

“Jesus, who are You teaching me You are while I am here?”

Healing Doesn’t Mean Pretending the Waves Aren’t There

There is something freeing about recognizing this.

Christian peace doesn’t require denial.

I don’t have to pretend that difficult family relationships don’t hurt.

I don’t have to call something okay when it isn’t.

I don’t have to pretend disappointment doesn’t exist.

I don’t even have to stop hoping that relationships will someday be different.

Healing allows me to tell the truth.

This hurts.

I wish it were different.

I still hope.

And also:

I am okay today.

Those truths can live together.

That feels very different from the way I once understood peace.

I think I used to imagine peace as the absence of problems.

Now I am beginning to understand peace as the presence of Christ within them.

I Don’t Have to Recreate the Family I Imagined

This has been another important realization.

The family I pictured when I was younger represented something important to me.

Safety.

Love.

Understanding.

Forgiveness.

Belonging.

Those desires weren’t wrong.

And the fact that my family hasn’t unfolded exactly as I imagined doesn’t mean I failed to create something good.

There has been love.

There is love.

There have been celebrations, laughter, ordinary days, difficult days, mistakes, forgiveness, growth, and memories I treasure.

One painful incident doesn’t erase everything that existed before it.

Nor does it get to define everything that comes afterward.

I think healing asks me to stop measuring the family I actually have against the picture I created years ago.

Not because I need to lower my standards for love or healthy relationships.

But because real people cannot live inside an imaginary picture.

They have their own stories.

Their own wounds.

Their own choices.

Their own relationships with God.

Their own responsibility for what they choose next.

I can love them without writing their ending for them.

And that gives all of us room to grow.

There Is Goodness Here Too

This is something I especially want to remember.

When we’re worried about one painful area of life, it can become so large that it blocks our view of everything else.

I don’t want that to happen.

I don’t want one broken relationship to become the lens through which I see my entire family.

I don’t want yesterday’s hurt to make me miss today’s love.

There are still conversations to enjoy.

There are still people to hug.

There is still laughter.

There are still ordinary cups of coffee, family dinners, celebrations, grandchildren growing, stories being told, and memories being made.

There are still moments when I can simply be present instead of mentally checking the horizon for the next wave.

Healing is teaching me to notice what is still good.

Not as a way of denying what hurts.

As a way of refusing to allow what hurts to become the whole story.

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I Can Hope Without Standing Guard

For a long time, I think hope and vigilance became tangled together.

If I hoped relationships would heal, I also felt as though I needed to watch for signs that they were healing.

Maybe this conversation meant something.

Maybe that interaction was progress.

Maybe this gathering would change everything.

Maybe everyone was finally moving forward.

That isn’t a peaceful way to hope.

I am learning another way.

I can pray for reconciliation and then live my day.

I can hope someone experiences healing without monitoring their healing.

I can leave a door open without spending my life standing beside it.

I can love someone without making myself responsible for the choices they make.

And I can trust that God is capable of working in lives when I am not watching.

That last one might be the hardest.

But it might also be one of the most freeing.

God doesn’t need me to supervise what I have entrusted to Him.

Peace Can Be Part of My Life Now

I don’t know what every relationship within my family will look like five years from now.

I hope there will be healing.

I hope there will be forgiveness.

I hope there will be opportunities for understanding.

But I don’t want to spend those five years waiting to live.

There is too much goodness available today.

There are people I can love today.

There is work God has placed before me today.

There are things I want to create.

There are places I want to go.

There are conversations I want to have.

There is laughter I don’t want to miss.

There are quiet mornings when I can sit with Christ without trying to solve anyone.

There is a life happening right now.

And perhaps one of the most beautiful parts of healing is discovering that I am allowed to enjoy it.

When the Waves Begin Moving Again

I know myself well enough to know that one devotional isn’t going to erase an old pattern.

There will probably be another moment when something happens, and I immediately start wondering what it means.

Another conversation.

Another family gathering.

Another silence.

Another unexpected situation.

And perhaps I will feel myself becoming watchful again.

When that happens, I want to remember three simple questions:

1. What is actually happening right now?
   Not what happened years ago. Not what might happen tomorrow. What is true today?
2. Is there something Christ is asking me to do?
   Perhaps I need to speak, apologize, listen, pray or establish a healthy boundary.
3. What can I leave with Jesus?
   If the answer depends upon another person’s choices, it probably doesn’t belong in my hands.

Then I can return to today.

Not perfectly.

Not permanently.

Just faithfully.

From Walking on Waves to Walking With Christ

Perhaps this is the part of my story I couldn’t have imagined when I was younger.

I thought healing would look like finally creating circumstances safe enough that I wouldn’t have to worry anymore.

I’m discovering something better.

My security doesn’t have to come from creating a life in which nothing unpredictable ever happens.

No family can promise that.

No relationship can promise that.

Life itself cannot promise that.

But Christ promises His presence.

The little girl who learned to watch the waves doesn’t have to spend the rest of her life watching them.

She grew up.

She built a family.

She loved deeply.

She experienced things she never expected.

And she is still learning.

So am I.

I am learning that peace doesn’t have to wait on the other side of reconciliation.

Joy doesn’t have to wait until every relationship is repaired.

Gratitude doesn’t disrespect the things that still hurt.

And moving forward doesn’t mean leaving anyone behind.

I can love my family, hope for healing, treasure what is good and still allow Christ to lead me into a peaceful life now.

Maybe that’s the new kind of peace He’s been teaching me all along.

Questions I’m Sitting With

1. Where have I been waiting for circumstances or relationships to change before allowing myself to experience peace?
2. What good things are present in my life today that worry has made difficult for me to notice?
3. Can I identify the difference between loving someone and feeling responsible for their choices?
4. What would hopeful prayer look like if I stopped monitoring the outcome afterward?
5. Where might Christ be inviting me to enjoy the life in front of me instead of watching for the next wave?

A Prayer for a New Kind of Peace

Jesus,

Thank You for being with me through every part of my story.

Thank You for the love I have known, the family I have been given and the beautiful moments that remain part of my life even when other parts are complicated.

You know how easily I begin watching the waves.

When uncertainty makes me want to anticipate, manage or fix everything around me, gently bring me back to You.

Teach me to recognize what belongs in my hands and what belongs in Yours.

Help me pray without controlling.

Hope without monitoring.

Love without carrying responsibilities that aren’t mine.

And please help me notice the goodness that is already here.

I still pray for healing within my family. I still pray for understanding and forgiveness wherever they are needed.

But while I wait, teach me how to live.

Teach me how to laugh.

Teach me how to receive love.

Teach me how to be present.

Teach me how to experience the peace You offer today.

When the waves move, remind me that I don’t have to move with them.

You are here.

And I am learning to trust You.

Amen.

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A Free Resource for Your Healing Journey

Healing doesn’t always require finding an answer. Sometimes it begins by creating enough quiet space to notice what we’re carrying and bring it honestly to Christ.

If you’re learning to release what you cannot control and become more present to what God is doing in your life today, my free 30 Prayer Journaling Prompts for the Weary Heart can help you continue that reflection.

The prompts offer a gentle place to slow down, pray, write honestly and spend time with God without feeling that you have to solve everything at once.

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Let’s Keep Walking Together

What has Christ been teaching you about peace lately?

Perhaps your circumstances haven’t completely changed, but you have.

If you’d like, share something you’re beginning to notice about your own healing in the comments. You can also simply ask for prayer without sharing any private details.

Share Your Story

Sometimes we don’t recognize how far God has brought us until we stop and look back.

If you’ve experienced a season when Christ taught you to live differently even before your circumstances changed, perhaps your story could encourage someone who is still watching the waves.

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