One of the most frequently repeated commands we see in the Bible is this: “do not fear.” There are many reasons why we might be afraid. There are right reasons to feel fear. If you’re hiking Mt. Hood and a mountain lion crosses your path, you would be afraid. If you see your child running across a busy street, you would feel a swift sense of panic and fear. These experiences of fear arise from an immediate and real threat of danger and should drive you to action. So when you see the mountain lion on the hiking path, your senses become heightened, your focus narrows, and you back away slowly, careful to not make any sudden movements. When you see your child gearing up to sprint across the busy street you are filled with adrenaline and you rush quickly to your child, yelling, “stop!” These experiences of “fear” are right and appropriate responses to real imminent danger.
But there is also a wrong kind of fear. A kind of fear that we might know by another name—anxiety.
“Anxiety is not mere concern,” one biblical scholar explains. “It is not the type of fear that helps us survive in a dangerous situation. It is not concern for the moment that we put our sixteen-year-old behind the wheel for the first time or for our sick child’s health. Rather, it is an ongoing, fearful restlessness wherein we imagine hypothetical circumstances of loss. The anxious one is ‘playing the prophet’, as [another author] says, ‘by looking into the possible futures and imagining what it might feel like to lose something we love’. Therein, common anxiety develops when we fear losing something we find truly precious.”
I think this biblical definition of anxiety is so profound. If I were to ask you, “What are you anxious about right now?” you might talk about,
- Your career—finding a job, keeping a job, not burning out in my current job
- Your relationships—what do people think of me? Do I have enough friends? Do I have a best friend? Will I ever get married? Will my marriage always be this hard?
- Your finances—will gas prices ever go down again? Will I have enough money to pay my bills this month? Will I ever get out from under this debt? Will I have enough put away for retirement? Will I have enough right now in my retirement?
- Your future—will my children be walking with the Lord in 10 years? Will I lose my health? Will I die alone?
But I would argue that all these examples—career, relationship, finances, future—are merely symptoms of deeper, heart-level fears—the truly precious things we fear to lose.
- Maybe the truly precious thing that you fear losing that is wrapped up in your career is your sense of identity: “What does my work say about who I am as a person? Am I smart enough? Capable enough? Will my work make any significant mark on this world?”
- Maybe in your relationships, the truly precious thing you fear losing is your sense of worth: “Do I matter to other people? Am I worthy of being loved?”
- In your finances, maybe the truly precious thing you fear losing is not the bigger vacation or the padded retirement account, but your sense of control: “What if we don’t have enough, and I can’t fix it?
- Or in your future, maybe the truly precious thing you fear to lose is your sense of security:* “*What is going to happen to me and my family? Will we be OK?”
The siren call of anxiety is so alluring because it gives us this illusion of control. “If I live in this state of ever-vigilant fear of all the bad things that might possibly happen to my children, maybe I can protect them.” Or, “If I just hyper-analyze everything that I say to every person that I speak to, maybe people will love and respect me.” Anxiety can feel productive, but it is a cruel master.
And as if all of this weren’t enough, it seems like everything in our world is also conspiring to fill us with perpetual anxiety over an ever-increasing number of things we can’t control:
- Never ending news cycles that show us the latest tragedies in nations thousands of miles away from us.
- Social media feeds filled with friends and influencers whose glamorous lives that feel so far out of our reach.
- And now, it even appears that some companies are working to create new reasons for us to be anxious. I wonder if you’ve begun to receive these targeted ads on Facebook and social media helpfully informing you about all of the hidden things in your diet and lifestyle that are secretly killing you, like microscopic toxins in your cookware, and your mattress off-gassing deadly fumes into your bedroom while you sleep. In fact, for about two weeks Melissa kept getting these targeted ads informing her that the real reason our kids keep getting sick is because of these tiny parasites that are swimming around in their guts. But!—fortunately, there was this new supplement that this company was selling to save our children!
We have more information at our fingertips, more global connectivity, and more conveniences than any previous generation, and it’s led us to believe that what we have as a result is more control. But we don’t. It’s an illusion. And I believe it is this mental gap—the gap between what control we think we have, and what little control we actually have that has led us to become this anxious generation.
Maybe this leads you to wonder if our generation is more anxious today because we simply have more things to be anxious about than generations before. But I think the truth is a bit more nuanced than that. I think the truth is that we simply have different things that we are anxious about than Christians in the past.
This morning we’re going to be looking at Paul’s letter to the church in Philippi. You might have heard Philippians referred to before as the “Letter of Joy.” And this is true. Paul speaks of “joy” and “rejoicing” 16 times in Philippians—more than in any other of his letters. But the reason Paul so readily commends this deep joy to the Philippians is because they had many reasons to be anxious:
- Paul, their father in the faith, was in prison, and there were some who were (strangely) preaching the gospel in order to further “afflict” Paul in his imprisonment (1:12-18).
- There were false teachers confusing the church with teaching that directly opposed the gospel and encouraged works of the law over faith in Christ (3:1-2)
- The Philippians also had further “opponents” of some kind outside of the church who were causing suffering among the believers (1:28-30).
- Sadly, there was also suffering and conflict arising from those within the church that was producing anxiety and despair (4:2-3).
These first-century believers, like us, had much to be anxious about. But as we’ll see in our text this morning, the prescriptions the Lord gave to these anxious first-century saints, and the prescriptions he now offers us through his Word are not what we might expect.
Let’s turn now and read our text, Philippians 4:4-7, page 982:
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Pray
In our text this morning we will see Three Surprising Prescriptions for Anxiety.
Prescription #1: Rejoice in the Lord
Philippians 4:4 “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice”
Right away, I wonder if you, like me, are struck by how simplistic this feels at first blush—almost cliche. It feels a bit like telling a depressed person, “Stop it! Just be happy!” If you right now feel like you are in the grip of anxiety, how does this land on you—”rejoice?” It might feel like the Lord is calling you to do something that you are incapable of doing. As I have struggled in my own life with anxiety that at times has felt utterly crippling, I would read passages like this and think, “Lord, I would love to feel this way! The very reason I can’t rejoice is because I feel like I am being smothered by my anxiety. Please take away this anxiety so that I can rejoice!”
Maybe you’ve felt this too, or are even feeling this now. But I think these feelings arise from a misunderstanding of what “rejoicing” actually means. You might define “rejoicing” as an expression of an already-present joy. And that is certainly a true definition:
- In Luke 1:47, Mary after hearing of God’s promise to bring the Messiah through her is filled with wonder and joy and says, “My spirit rejoices in God my Savior.”
But there is another side to the coin of rejoicing that we often miss, and the side that I think Paul wants us to see here in Philippians. Rejoicing can be a natural overflow of an already-present joy, but rejoicing can also be a command, a conscious act of the will to summon your mind and your heart to see and savor the Lord truly in all his glory and goodness and to remember how faithful and kind he has been to you.
- Psalm 43:5 “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.”
- Habakkuk 3:17-18 “Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the LORD; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.”
I think we get another clue that this is the kind of “joy-summoning” rejoicing Paul is calling the Philippians to because of the context we have at the beginning of Philippians 4. There was a sharp disagreement between fellow believers in the church. We don’t know what this disagreement about, but it was serious enough that it was affecting the unity and the joy of the church as a whole. But look with me at the end of verse 3—What is the basis upon which Paul summons these believers to reconcile? He effectively tells the church leaders to remind them that “your names are written in the book of life! You have been redeemed from your infinite debt of sin to God and have eternal life in store for you! Remember what you have in Christ! And in light of this, be reconciled to each other. Put this disagreement behind you and forgive one another.”
And that’s the context that brings us into verse 4: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice.” These two believers who were in a disagreement that was sharp enough and public enough to warrant a special call-out by Paul were likely not experiencing a great deal of “inner joy.” And yet, the command the Lord gave to these Christians through Paul, and the command he now gives to us is this—rejoice!
Look with me again at verse 4. Notice the location of our rejoicing: in the Lord. Friends, this is how rejoicing can function as a prescription against your anxiety. Your joy does not need to be contingent on your circumstances. I don’t think I’m saying anything you don’t know or haven’t heard before, but is this actually an operating belief in your life? Most of us assume that joy is on the other side of our problems—”If I can just get through this busy week at work, or get past this test, or get back on good terms with this friend or family member, then my anxiety will clear and I’ll be able to experience joy.” But there are a couple of problems with that line of thinking:
First, you have no guarantee that the week following your busy week won’t be even busier and harder than the one before. You have no guarantee that you will pass the test, or that the relationship will be restored.
Second, you can’t set your hope on outcomes God has not promised. God has not promised you a life free from stress and hardship. In fact, what he has promised the Christian living in this world that is broken by sin is a life that will be filled with stress and hardship.
I’m convinced that much of our anxiety comes from this unbiblical belief that life shouldn’t feel this hard. We think that freedom from anxiety is only possible when we have lopped off every serpent head of stress in our lives. We say things like, “I just can’t relax until I know this person isn’t mad at me.” Or, “I won’t be able to feel any peace until this big work project is behind me.” Or, “I just can’t think about anything else until I receive this medical diagnosis.” We are filled with anxiety over things in which we have zero real control.
So, how then if you are feeling this kind of anxiety can you rejoice in the Lord? Let’s me give you three ways:
First, remind yourself that God is in control of your life, not you. Your anxiety might give you the illusion that you have control over your life, but you don’t. God does.
Remember the parable of the rich man Jesus gives us in Luke 12:16-20:
“The land of a rich man produced plentifully, and he thought to himself, What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops?’ And he said, ‘I will do this: I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.”’ But God said to him, Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’’
Second, remind yourself of the character of the God who is in control of your life.
In Matthew 6 Jesus speaks to our anxious hearts:
Are you not of more value to God than the birds of the air that he provides for?
If God clothes the lilies of the field with such glory, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?
Don’t be anxious about you will have to eat, or drink, or wear, for your heavenly Father knows that you need them.
Or Psalm 103:8 “The LORD is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.”
Third, remind yourself of God’s purposes in the hardships of your life.
James 1:2-4: “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”
2 Corinthians 4:16-18 “For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen.”
Friend, you can say to yourself,
God is in control of my life, God is good, and God is working out all things together for my good, to make me more like him and prepare me for eternal life. And I’m going to preach to my soul that is feels cast down within me and riddled with anxiety—O soul, relinquish what control you think you have! Look away from yourself and your present circumstances, and look up to the One who is in control! The One who can be trusted, the One who is preparing for me an eternal place with him. O soul, rest in Him! Rejoice in him!
This is our first surprising prescription to anxiety. But there’s a second.
Prescription #2: Cultivate a Spirit of Gentleness
Philippians 4:4-5 “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand.”
Before we get into the the application of verse 5, we need to first answer two textual questions:
- Does Paul mean “reasonableness” or “gentleness?”
- What does Paul mean by “The Lord is at hand?”
Let’s start with that first question: What does Paul mean “reasonableness” or “gentleness?”
You might be wondering why I titled this second point in the sermon, “Cultivate Gentleness” instead of “Cultivate Reasonableness.” I chose the word “gentle” because I think this translation is more accurate to the Biblical text. In fact, if you’re using and ESV translation, you probably have a footnote next to the word “reasonableness” that says, “or gentleness.” The word that the ESV translates as “reasonableness” is ἐπιεικὲς (ep-eh-EE-kase), a word used 5 times in the New Testament, and in every other place, it is translated as “gentle.”
In the list of elder qualifications in 1 Timothy 3:17, we see that an elder is to be both sober-minded (νηφάλιος—nay-PHAL-ee-ohs) and gentle (ἐπιεικὲς—ep-eh-ee-KASE).
Or in James 3:17, we read that “The wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full or mercy and good fruits, impartial, and sincere.” If this word (ἐπιεικὲς—ep-eh-ee-KASE) is meant to be translated as “reasonable,” it would seem redundant for James to also include “open to reason” and “impartial” in his list.
If you consult most any other Bible translation, you’ll notice that almost without exception, they translate this word in Philippians 4:5 as “gentleness (NIV, NKJV) or “gentle spirit (NASB). Thus, the most accurate translation seems to be, “Let your gentleness be known to everyone.”
Now for our second textual question: What does Paul mean by “the Lord is at hand?”
This is a notoriously challenging passage to interpret. Paul could mean “The Christian can exhibit a spirit of gentleness toward the watching world because he knows that God stands near to aid and uphold him.
Or, “the Lord is at hand” could be referring to Christ’s second coming, meaning, “Christian, you can be gentle toward a world that hates you and resist seeking your own vengeance because Jesus is coming back soon to vindicate you and judge the wicked.
There is much debate over this phrase, and Paul could be implying either meaning (or both meanings), but I’m inclined to agree with John Calvin who sees a connection between Paul’s words in Philippians and David’s words in Psalm 145:18: “The Lord is near to all that call upon him.”
“The meaning,” says Calvin, is this: "Miserable would be the condition of Christians, if the Lord were at a distance from them. But as he has received them under his protection and guardianship, and defends them by his hand, which is everywhere present, let them rest upon this comforting truth that they may not be intimidated by the rage of the wicked.”
So, having attempted to answer both of these textual questions, let’s now consider all of verse 5 together:
“Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand”
Here’s our next question: how should we define gentleness? I think if we survey the whole of the New Testament’s teaching on gentleness, we’d get a definition like this:
Gentleness is a quiet inner confidence in the providence of God that leads to an outward expression of humility, kindness, and patience.
“A quiet inner confidence in the providence of God…
When you realize that it is not you who is in control of your life, but God, and that this God loves you, and is for you, and stands ready to aid and defend you, and you relinquish your control over to him, you will find that the ceaseless fretting and angst that fills your soul with constant noise will be slowly displaced by a quiet, contented confidence in the Lord.
Psalm 131 O LORD, my heart is not lifted up; my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me. But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me. O Israel, hope in the LORD from this time forth and forevermore.
And what should this quiet inner confidence in the providence of God lead to?
“…an outward expression of humility, kindness, and patience.”
When you are like that “weaned child with it’s mother,” confident that all of your needs will be richly supplied, confident that you are safe, confident that your future is secure, it changes the way in which you engage in this world. You aren’t pulled into the vortex of anxiety that the world is wrapped up in—What will happen to the economy? What if the wrong person gets elected? What if I lose my job? What if my health takes a turn for the worse?
If left unchecked, all of these anxious fears will slowly pull you—not into humility, but pride and people-pleasing; not kindness, but selfishness; not patience, but restlessness, anger, and frustration.
But this kind of gentleness changes how you show up to the world.
How can we cultivate this spirit of gentleness that will help break the power of anxiety over us? The answer is remarkably similar to our first point—you preach the truth of God’s Word to your soul.
You know that your sins are far worse than what any critic might say, and you know what you deserve. And yet, miracle of all miracles, God poured out his love upon an undeserving sinner like you!
Psalm 103:10-11 He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;
This leads us to humility, and not just towards yourself, but towards others. If you are slandered or overlooked, you don’t melt into a puddle. You know that God sees you and knows you and loves you. You are secure in Him.
Instead of returning insult for insult, you can respond with the same kindness that God showed you in the gospel.
And instead of being swept up into the same fretfulness and constant impatience
that dominates so many in our modern world, you can respond with patience. You can say, “I know that whatever may come, whether good or bad, it will flow into my life only through the hands of my loving and sovereign heavenly father. He doesn’t call me to know the future; he only calls me to have a child-like faith that he will supply everything that I need, even if right now I can’t see how he will do it.”
If all of this is true—that the Lord is at hand, and that he stands ready to help, sustain, and secure us—this “spirit of gentleness” is really the only fitting attitude, right? I think this is why the ESV chose to translate this word as “reasonableness.” In light of our Father’s sovereign control and all of the promises he has given us in his Son, what other kind of life would be fitting? And it is this spirit of gentleness that seems so noteworthy and strange to our watching world. Paul seems to believe that this gentleness will even be a form of evangelism that should cause others to stop and wonder what is it that makes you act like that? What is the reason for the hope that is within you?
We’ve considered two surprising prescriptions for anxiety: (1) Rejoice in the Lord, and (2) Cultivate a Spirit of Gentleness. Let’s consider our third and final prescription:
Prescription #3: Pray with Thanksgiving
Philippians 4:6-7 “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
Maybe “prayer” doesn’t seem like a surprising prescription to you, but it does to me, mostly because of how obvious it appears to be. If you are in the grip of anxiety, and you finally work up the courage to talk a pastor or a Christian friend, and after listening to you describe your struggle they simply tell you, “Don’t be anxious about anything, but pray.” How might you respond? You might say, “I wish it was that easy! Don’t you think I’ve tried that? Can you please tell me something else or give me something else that can take this away?”
Is it really that simple? That the more you pray, the more peace you will feel? Let’s work towards an answer together.
I want us to notice first an interesting contrast Paul paints for us in verse 6. Look with me at how on the one hand he says, “Do not be anxious about anything,” but on the other hand, he says, “…but in everything (by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving) make your requests known by God.”
It’s like he’s saying, “Believer, in light of God’s love for you and his plan for you, you don’t have anything that you should be anxious about! You are in the palm of his hand, and there is nothing and no one that can snatch you out of his hand.”
But it seems like he’s also saying, “But even though you don’t have anything you should feel anxious about, when you do feel anxious about anything or everything, bring it to the Lord in prayer.”
This should be such a comfort to us! God has great compassion toward us amidst our weak faith. He “knows our frame,” the Psalmist says, “and remembers that we are dust” (Psalm 103:14). It’s similar to the gentle encouragement John gives to his little flock in 1 John 2:1:
“My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.”
We shouldn’t be anxious, but we will be anxious. And what a gift of grace it is that God delights in us bringing our anxieties to him! He doesn’t send us away when we’re anxious, as if it’s an affront on his honor! I love how John Piper makes the connection in this text between prayer and gentleness. He says,
“Burden God with your requests and your cries for help (who can never be burdened) and don’t let these burden other people. Show them servanthood, kindness, mercy, courteous, gentleness, and then you will make the Lord look really good.” (Piper, Look at the Book)”
Burdening God with your anxieties does not dishonor him. No, friend, it actually honors him all the more. Because we are a people ever-prone to anxiety, you must bring your burdens somewhere. If you don’t bring them to the Lord in prayer, you will instead spill that burden onto others. Your family and your friends will begin to feel the weight of your anxieties and all that is wrapped up in them (Am I good enough? Do people like me? Will I be OK?)
But when you bring your burdens to the Lord in prayer, you are acknowledging that only he can do something to alleviate what burdens you—not yourself or others. He wants you to burden him your anxieties! We see a similar exhortation in 1 Peter 5:7: “cast all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.”
Now, is it appropriate at times to unload our burdens onto other Christians? Yes, absolutely! Formal Biblical counseling and heart-to-hearts with mature brothers and sisters can be a wonderful means of grace God can use to help us grow. But the problem comes when we view this not as a supplement to prayer, but as a replacement. Biblical counseling should never be an end to itself. It should function like a mirror to help you see yourself and your troubles in light of what God’s Word says so that you can bring them to him more readily in prayer.
Notice too the manner in which we are to pray. Look with me again at verse 6, it is with thanksgiving that we should “let our requests be made known to God.” Chrysostom, the 4th-century Church Father can help us shed some light on what this means to pray “with thanksgiving.” He says,
“God does not wish that a prayer be merely a petition [a specific request] but a thanksgiving for what we have received.… How can you make petitions for the future without a thankful acknowledgment what God has provided for you in the past?… We ought to give thanks for everything [we have received], even what seems [most painful]. This is the mark of one who is truly thankful. Grief is the outcome for the one who is unable to see past their circumstances. Thanksgiving comes from a soul that has true insight [of God’s goodness and purposes] and a strong affection for God.”
So, when we pray, we don’t make demands of God: “If you really love me, you’ll change my circumstances.” Instead we pray with Thanksgiving, “Lord, I know that your ways are higher than my ways, and even though I desperately want this situation to change, I trust you, and I thank you ahead of time for how I know you will answer this prayer according to your good purposes. Thank you for how you have been faithful to me in the past. And thank you for how you are actively faithful to me right now in my trouble. I trust you, and I love you.”
I want to share a personal story of how this has played out in the life of my family. As some of you know, a few months ago, Elisabeth, our 8-month old had an ultrasound done that seemed to indicate a possible diagnosis of spina bifida, a spinal condition that can sometimes have life-altering affects on mobility and even brain development. Melissa gave me permission to share what her experience was like through this time, and what the Lord taught her. She said,
After two or three days of panicking and scouring the internet for every possible diagnosis and potential outcome for Elisabeth, I reached a point of defeated realization that there was nothing I could do. I desperately wanted to do something—anything to save my child from all the terrible possibilities of a bad diagnosis. Worrying wasn’t accomplishing anything. But in the quiet of my heart, I felt the conviction of the Holy Spirit reminding me, “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his span of life?” I started taking every anxious thought and turning it to prayer. And with those prayers, I felt the peace that though I could do nothing, I was appealing to God, my Father, the One with the power to do far more than I could ask or imagine.
By God’s grace, Elisabeth’s follow-up scan several months later came back clear, and we were filled with such relief and thankfulness for God’s mercy on our daughter. But I think the most remarkable thing as I reflect back on those scary two months is the sense of peace the Lord gave us even before we had received the results, even without any guarantee that he would heal our daughter.
We experienced firsthand the promise of Philippians 4:7: “And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
And brother and sister, this promise that Melissa and I experienced a few months ago is a promise you can experience right now; that as you choose to rejoice in the Lord amidst your trials, as you cultivate a life of gentleness in light of “the Lord being at hand,” and as you bring your daily burdens to the Lord, his peace will guard your heart and your mind in Christ Jesus. Paul describes this as a “peace that surpasses all understanding.” It’s a peace that would not make any sense to the world because it’s a peace that is not dependent on any specific outcome, but on the trustworthiness of the God who says to you, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”
The freedom God promises us in his Word is a freedom from anxiety, not a freedom from concerns. Having many things that concern us is not sinful. The sin comes when we try to deal with these concerns ourselves instead of bringing them to God. These ordinary concerns, when left to stagnate alone in our hearts transform into anxieties that cripple our faith and rob our joy. But instead, your heart was designed to be like tributary, a smaller stream that flows into the bigger, deeper river. When you feel the weight of daily pressures and concerns, these things that feel “too great” or “too marvelous” to you, don’t let these weights stagnate in your mind and heart. You weren’t made for that. Instead, carry them along the channel into the river that is God and let him carry these burdens along.
And the gift you gain when you do this is much more than simply an “absence of anxiety,” like a spiritual Xanax. When you bring your burdens to the Lord, he doesn’t just take something from you—he gives you something too. His peace. His **peace, which surpasses understanding—His peace that makes no sense in light of the trouble you are facing—His peace that will actively guard your heart and your mind in Christ Jesus.
May the Lord help us to see our burdens and our troubles, not as something to simply be rid of, but what they actually are—blessed servants that can lead us to the Lord. May we learn to say with Spurgeon, “I have learned to bless the wave that cast me on the rock of ages.”
