Take your first step towards a life of peace.

There's a quiet ache many of us carry—a kind of hum beneath the noise of our everyday lives. It shows up when the room is still, when we can't sleep, or when we feel we have to be everything to everyone. It's called anxiety. And it's more common than we admit.

But what is it, really? Anxiety is not just nervousness before a big test or butterflies before a speech. It's something deeper. It's the persistent sense that something is wrong—either with the world, with our lives, or with ourselves. It's the gnawing belief that we are not safe, not enough, not in control.

And yet, for many of us, it's become so normalized we hardly question it.

The Story We Believe

Jamie Winship, a former police officer turned identity coach, says that anxiety often reveals the story we're telling ourselves—the story we believe about who we are and how the world works. According to Winship, "You will live out the story you believe." That means if we believe we're only as valuable as our productivity, we will live in fear of rest. If we believe our worth depends on others' approval, we will panic at the thought of failure or rejection.

Winship's work centers around replacing false identity with true identity—one rooted not in performance or perception, but in peace. And he suggests that anxiety is often a signal we are living out of a false identity. It's the warning light on the dashboard of the soul that says, "You're not aligned with truth."

That's a radically different way to think about anxiety—not just as something to be managed, but as something that can lead us toward truth.

The Ache for Control

John Piper, a theologian known for his writing on joy and trust, frames anxiety as the heart's resistance to surrender. In his words, "Anxiety seems to be an intense desire for something, accompanied by a fear of the consequences of not receiving it." In other words, it's the space between our longing and our inability to guarantee the outcome.

Whether it's about finances, relationships, health, or the future, anxiety thrives in the gap between what we hope for and what we fear will happen. It feeds on our desperate need to control what is uncontrollable.

Piper points us toward trust—not as a blind leap, but as a daily, sometimes moment-by-moment, decision to place the weight of our worries into hands bigger than our own.

The Invitation to Honesty

The Bible doesn't gloss over anxiety. In fact, it speaks to it directly. "Do not be anxious about anything," Paul writes in Philippians 4:6, "but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God."

This isn't a command to just "get over it" or pretend we're fine. It's an invitation—to bring the real, raw parts of ourselves into the open. The original Greek word used for "anxious" (merimnao) literally means "to be divided or pulled apart." That's what anxiety does. It splits us—between faith and fear, peace and panic, the present moment and all the "what ifs" of the future.

But notice what Paul says: "Let your requests be made known." Not hidden. Not polished. Known.

And that's where freedom begins.

You're Not Alone

One of anxiety's worst lies is isolation. It whispers, "You're the only one who feels this way," or "Everyone else is handling life better than you." But the truth is, anxiety is a deeply human experience. Even Jesus, on the night before His crucifixion, sweat drops of blood in agony (Luke 22:44). He was not distant from fear—He stepped into it and carried it.

We don't need to hide our anxious thoughts. We need to bring them into the light—with God and with others.

That might look like a conversation with a friend who's safe enough to be honest with. It might mean reaching out to a counselor or walking with a faith community that won't shame your struggle. But whatever it looks like, it requires stepping out of silence.

The Way Forward

If anxiety is a sign that something in our story needs attention, then maybe the goal isn't just to get rid of it—but to listen to it. Not to agree with the panic, but to trace it back to the story it's rooted in.

Ask yourself: What am I afraid will happen? What belief lies underneath that fear? And most importantly—is it true?

Jamie Winship says that when people start living from the truth of who they are—beloved, secure, and free—their lives change. Not because circumstances magically improve, but because they're no longer living under the tyranny of a false story.

And here's the good news: that truth is available. You don't have to earn it. You don't have to pretend you're not anxious. You just have to be willing to ask honest questions and receive honest answers.

Anxiety isn't something you have to fight alone. It's not a flaw to be ashamed of. It's an invitation—a doorway—to something deeper, more real, and more whole.

Let's walk through it together.

We tend to think of peace as the absence of noise, conflict, or stress. A silent morning. A clean inbox. A moment when the phone isn't buzzing and the world isn't demanding. But real peace—deep, lasting peace—is something else entirely.

It's more than a fleeting break in the chaos.

Peace is a sense of well-being beyond your circumstances.

That kind of peace doesn't depend on things going right. It holds steady even when life feels unsteady. It whispers calm when your world is loud. It anchors you, not because the storm has passed, but because something deeper has taken root inside.

So how do we get there?

The Peace We Think We Want

For many of us, peace feels like a finish line—something we'll reach once the job is secure, the relationship is healthy, the diagnosis is clear, or the to-do list is complete. But that kind of peace is conditional. It only lasts as long as our conditions do.

Jamie Winship, a former police officer who now works in conflict resolution and identity restoration, challenges that mindset. He says, "Peace isn't the absence of conflict; it's the presence of truth." In his work around the world—in war zones, in leadership coaching, in everyday lives—he's seen that when people know who they are and what is true, peace becomes possible, even in the hardest places.

According to Winship, the key isn't controlling your surroundings. It's living from your true identity—an identity not shaped by fear, pressure, or performance. When we live from a false self, we live anxious, reactive lives. But when we operate from the truth of who we are—beloved, secure, known—we become unshakable in the face of circumstances we cannot control.

The Struggle for Control

John Piper, a theologian and author, frames peace as the result of trust—specifically, trust that there's a purpose in the uncertainty. He writes, "The presence of peace is not the absence of trouble, but the presence of God." That's not just a religious idea—it's a way of understanding peace that doesn't rely on things being easy. It means you can be in the middle of grief, tension, or transition and still feel a deep current of steadiness inside you.

But that kind of peace doesn't come from pretending everything is fine.

It comes from letting go of the need to control everything—and from facing the real fears that live underneath our stress. Piper points out that the opposite of peace isn't pain—it's unbelief. It's the suspicion that we're alone, unsupported, or unworthy. Peace begins where that suspicion ends.

An Honest Invitation

The Bible often talks about peace not as a product of effort, but as a gift—a posture of heart and mind that is freely available, but rarely forced. In Philippians 4:7, it's called "the peace that surpasses all understanding." That means peace that doesn't make sense on paper. Peace when there's no resolution. Peace when the ending is still unknown.

It's important to note what comes just before that verse: an invitation to bring everything—every fear, every anxious thought, every need—to the surface. Not to hide it. Not to fix it first. Just to make it known.

There's something powerful about honesty. We often think vulnerability is the opposite of strength, but maybe it's the doorway to peace. Maybe the reason so many of us don't feel peace is because we haven't allowed ourselves to be seen—not by others, and not even by ourselves.

You Weren't Meant to Fake It

One of the most isolating things about modern life is the pressure to look like we're doing fine. We scroll past curated lives on screens and wonder why ours feels so messy. But no one gets peace by pretending. True peace doesn't arrive through perfection—it comes through permission.

Permission to not have it all together.

Permission to ask hard questions.

Permission to be fully known.

Living from Peace

So what does it actually look like to live from peace?

It might look like slowing down when your instinct is to push harder. It might sound like telling someone you're not okay instead of hiding behind a smile. It might feel like choosing presence over perfection.

Peace isn't passivity—it's confidence without striving. It doesn't mean life will stop being hard. But it means you'll be rooted even when the winds come. That kind of peace isn't something you manufacture. It's something you receive. And often, the first step toward it is the hardest one: admitting that you need it.

You're Not Alone

Peace is not for the polished. It's not for the people who seem to have it all figured out. It's for the honest, the searching, the weary. It's for anyone willing to ask, "What if there's more than just surviving this?"

You don't have to get your life in order before you find peace. You don't have to silence every doubt or fix every flaw. You just have to stop pretending. Because real peace—the kind that goes beyond circumstances—is closer than you think.

And it begins with truth.

We have been created for, and called into community, by God, who is Himself community. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Henri Nouwen once wrote, “God has made us into his people by calling us out of “Egypt” to the “New Land,” out of the desert to fertile ground, out of slavery to freedom, out of our sin to salvation, out of captivity to liberation. All these words and images give expression to the fact that the initiative belongs to God and that he is the source of our new life together.” And it’s with gratitude to God that we can give ourselves to others in community.

Isolation is living without light. No light, no life. The things that lead to death grow in the dark. For example, anxiety and depression grow in the dark. And in the dark, what grows doesn’t get better, it just gets bigger. Richard Baxter said, “In this dark, disordered condition, you're unfit to judge your own condition or the way to approach your duty.” Lies also get louder in isolation. Lies like we’re all alone. And because the Lord often uses others to communicate His love, when we live in isolation we lose our ability to believe that we are loved. That is right where the enemy of our souls wants us. But Jesus said, “the truth will set you free” (John 8:32). A relationship with God and others is not out of reach. Truth can be found in Christian community. That is good news! That is the Gospel!

Community is where others care for us, and where we care for others. In Christian community this is lived out with great purpose under the power of the Holy Spirit. It is the only way to live in obedience to God. “Carry each other's burdens and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ (Galatians 6:2). That’s why God baked the need to need, and the need to be needed into our DNA. When we start thinking that weakness is wrong, we are the ones who are actually wrong. In fact, Jesus said “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). Together we can reject the rugged individualism that leads to reckless isolationism. And although we have been invited out of isolation, we must be intentional. Christian community must be calendared. So, I may not know you, but I know God, and with His help I know you can be responsible enough to reach out for relationship.