Episode Summary
In this week’s episode, Chris and I sit down in her study to talk through the heart behind Oh Night Divine, my new Advent series. It’s a short, intimate conversation about the power of nostalgia and how hope acts as a structure for our days. Enjoy this quiet companion to today’s reflection.
My Peace I Give You
We step now into the second week of Advent, the week of Peace. But the word “peace,” as Jesus uses it in John 14, is so layered and so full of divine fullness that it’s almost impossible to hear it the way his disciples heard it unless we recover what he actually meant when he said, “My peace I give to you. I do not give as the world gives.”
Here’s the full verse:
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” (NIV)
That word for peace is eirēnē, and it is not the Greek equivalent of “no conflict” or “good vibes” or even the sentimental peace on earth, goodwill toward men that we all hear this time of year. Those phrases live on the surface of things, and they aren’t necessarily “bad.” Of course, we want peace in our world—the end of conflict.
But Jesus is speaking of something more dynamic.
He is giving us His peace. Which means: whatever this peace is, it originates from the divine life itself. Take a moment and think about that. I think we too often buzz by these words without considering their actual depth.
This is where C.S. Lewis’s idea of transposition becomes helpful and a necessary theological grammar. Lewis argued that whenever a higher reality enters a lower one, the lower realm can only express it by analogy.
And this, Lewis believed, is how God meets us. He is not reduced to humanity; he is transposed into it. That means he doesn’t lose the fullness of who he is; he is both fully God and fully human. It’s mindbending.
I like to think about it like the full ocean entering the narrow fjord (we discussed this a few weeks back on the podcast). When that happens, it creates a tidal current: the ocean water is still the ocean water, but narrowed into this small space, forming maelstroms, and causing the water level to rise.
That’s a transposition; the infinite (ocean) pressing itself into the finite (fjord) without ceasing to be infinite. This is the shape of the Incarnation. And it is also the shape of the peace Jesus gives.
He is not offering the world’s kind of peace: the negotiated ceasefire, the absence of trouble, or the temporary relief from chaos. He is offering a heavenly peace, originating in the Trinity and given as a gift to humanity through the miracle of the Incarnation.
It is cosmic in scope.
This is the time of year when we celebrate the ultimate transposition of the higher going into the lower. The peace we find through Jesus is his peace. Not the world’s version, but His own. It is not about a feeling, but about a way of being, rooted in his wholeness.
When we have that kind of peace, we can face trials of many kinds because it is a peace not based on human acts. It is the steadying nature of God himself, giving you the peace of mind to endure as you rest in his divine fullness. So, it’s not the absence of trouble, but the presence of Himself.
Today and this evening, take a short walk and reflect on God’s peace; where it comes from, what it contains, and the potential for it to shape your life.
Is it even possible that God has offered you peace, but you have yet to partake of it? We do this, as humans, don’t we? We go out of our way, almost, to muscle through hardship on our own, all the while, Jesus stands there saying, “Here, take my peace. Let it renew and restore you.”
I love how Eugene Peterson frames this notion of peace in his New Testament paraphrase, The Message:
Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life. (Philippians 4:6-7)
A sense of God’s wholeness—he nailed it. In other versions, the final part of verse seven reads like a doxological blessing.
May the peace of God guard your hearts.
Doesn’t that make more sense now, when we understand peace as God’s wholeness? That’s how peace guards your heart. It is him guarding your heart with a divine tranquility that surpasses our comprehension.
Isn’t the Christian life so wonderfully cosmic?
An Invitation
If you’d like to walk through the rest of Advent with me—day by day, under the stars, in Scripture, and in the wonder of Christ’s coming—you can join Oh Night Divineanytime. Each morning brings a fresh reflection, an audio reading, and a simple printable to mark the day.
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