The Turning Toward Peace
The season is ramping up. Calendars crowd. Travel plans shift. Work piles up before the break. The lists grow louder by the day. This is the point in December when the pace begins to dictate its own terms, and if we’re not careful, we move through the season rather than receiving it.
But Advent invites something different. Peace isn’t the absence of responsibility. It isn’t the quiet of an empty schedule. Peace is something given, even when life crowds the edges. It meets us where we are, not where we wish we were.
This week asks us to stop long enough to notice what’s being offered: a steadiness that isn’t earned, a calm that doesn’t depend on circumstance. A gift that arrives in the middle of everything.
Thomas à Kempis:
“First keep peace within yourself, then you can bring peace to others.”
A Walk into the Quiet Season
The cold arrived before sunrise. Not a biting cold, but the kind that settles low across the ground and reminds you the year is tipping toward winter. We stepped out into it, letting the morning air do what it always does this time of
year — sharpen the senses, slow the breath, draw us into ourselves for a moment.
The neighborhood was still. A few lights flickered on inside houses as people reached for coffee or started their morning routines. Somewhere in the distance, traffic stirred. Even so, the world felt quieter than usual, as if holding its breath before the day took shape.
But our minds weren’t quiet. December has a way of crowding in early: the travel decisions that aren’t made yet, the work that must be finished before the break, the gifts that need buying, the plans we haven’t sorted. The season builds its own pressure, subtle at first, then steady. Even on a morning like this, the lists try to run ahead of us.
Halfway down the trail, the cold deepened and everything around us hushed. It wasn’t silence exactly — more like a settling. And that’s when we noticed it: the season was offering something different from what the calendar demanded. Not escape. Not avoidance. Something steadier.
Peace.
Not the kind we reach for when life finally eases, but the kind that arrives while life is still full. A quiet strength that steadies the inner world even when the outer world keeps moving. We didn’t earn it. We didn’t manufacture it. We simply received it, the way you receive light when the sun finally clears the horizon.
By the time we turned back toward home, the day was waking up. Car doors closing. Kids heading for school. The lists would return soon enough. But something had shifted. We carried the cold morning with us, the slow breath, the steadying calm.
Peace found us on the trail, and it was enough to carry into whatever waited next.
“Underwater” ~ The Violet Burning
This track lives in the tension between sorrow and longing, yet it never collapses into despair. Underwater moves with a slow, aching honesty — and somehow, beneath all of it, a quiet resolve rises. It’s Peace not as perfection, but as presence.
Life Without Lack ~ Dallas Willard
Willard writes with the kind of calm authority that slows the reader down without asking permission. Rooted in Psalm 23, this book explores a Peace that isn’t circumstantial but foundational —
the steady assurance that we are held, provided for, and never abandoned. It’s the kind of peace Advent teaches us to receive.
App: One Minute Pause – John Eldredge / Wild At Heart
Eldredge returns often to the idea that stillness is not retreat but resilience. In this episode, he unpacks how quieting the soul becomes a form of strength — a way of letting God steady the inner world
when the outer world refuses to slow down. His framing fits this week: Peace isn’t found in perfect conditions, but in learning to be present, grounded, and held.
His conversation on the practice of “One Minute Pauses” offers a simple rhythm for reclaiming steadiness throughout the day — a practical entry point into Peace during a noisy season.
Listen →
Peace isn’t always a feeling. More often, it’s a kind of steadiness that rises in the middle of movement. We catch glimpses of it in simple places — the cold air on an early walk, the way the light settles on winter trees, the breath we didn’t realize we were holding. December wants to pull us into hurry,
but Peace keeps its footing. As Thomas à Kempis reminds us, “First keep the peace within yourself; then you can also bring peace to others.” Peace stands firm while everything else tries to accelerate.
“When the rhythm of the heart becomes hectic, time takes on the strain until it breaks.”
— John O’Donohue
Take one minute each morning this week before stepping into the day. Stand still, plant your feet, and breathe in the cold air. Let your shoulders drop. Let your jaw unclench. Notice what you’re carrying that doesn’t belong to this moment. Can you hand that thing over to God? Then release a slow breath
and receive Peace as it is — given, not earned. Carry that steadiness into the next step.
See more on the Virtue of Tranquility, in our Franklin Virtue Series.
Or see more about Advent Week 2 – Peace.
“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.” ~ Isaiah 26:3 ESV
Peace calls us back before the break. It steadies the heart, slows the hurry, and clears enough space for us to breathe again. This week, may we notice where Peace is already meeting us — and receive it with open hands.
Peace and Hope to you in this second stretch of Advent.
Chase The Kangaroo 
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