Christ’s peace rarely arrives as a thunderclap. More often, it comes as glimpses. In small, lived moments of faith, hope, and love that shimmer through our ordinary days. They’re not abstractions; they’re experiences. A breath that steadies us. A kindness that surprises us. A whisper that reminds us we are held.
Sometimes the weight we feel isn’t spiritual at all, it’s simply the heaviness of a mind that loves to wander into the deep places. I know that feeling: the pull toward the waters, toward mystery, toward questions that stretch far beyond the shoreline. It’s beautiful, but it can be heavy too especially in struggling with the heavy issues of dis-ease.
The image of the paralytic man came to mind, how he was waiting by the pool, longing for healing, longing for movement, longing for the water to carry him. There are days when I feel like him, sitting at the edge of something holy, knowing its there but unsure how to step in.
But on a recent walk in nature, the whisper came: Rise up and walk. I will carry you through the deep and heavy places.
Of course it’s really this simple. It wasn’t a command; it was an invitation. An invitation into Christ’s peace, not as an idea, but as a lived experience. An invitation to trust that the One who calms the storm also plays in the waves.
So maybe today we dream a little.
Maybe we let ourselves wade into the water—not to solve anything, not to strive, but simply to feel the coolness of grace around our ankles. Maybe Christ’s peace is less about escaping the deep and more about discovering that He is already there, buoying us, lifting us, teaching us to float.
Let’s dream.
Let’s play in the water.
Let’s rise up and walk in the peace that carries us.
Smitten With Goodness 