Calm during the storm

By Tony Lobl—London, England

The shrieking winds and gray, foreboding skies painted a vivid and accurate picture of my inner mental turmoil that stormy winter day. I no longer recall the issues that were distressing me, but I remember the moment when the gale howled loudest and my inner landscape got gloomiest.

At that moment, a simple idea sneaked into thought and out-whispered the physical and mental storms clamoring for attention. It was this: that I could claim my peace in the midst of the storm. I didn't need to wait until the winds died away to affirm the presence of peace. I didn't need to wait until the emotional turmoil settled down to accept the actuality of peace.

Despite the evidences of evil—and the atmospherics that were playing a fittingly dark tune outside—I intuitively felt that what Christian Science terms animal magnetism was already nothing. That is, all that opposes or contrasts with or distracts from God, who is infinite good, is without true existence or influence. This thought brought complete inner stillness before anything else had changed.

I remember that moment, and other moments like it, when I think about nations at war, or opposing sides facing off against each other in a civil war. I had never faced so stark a challenge to my sense of peace. But could I—would I—reach that same recognition of unconditional peace if I were forced to carry a machine gun into battle, were hunkered down under a barrage of bombs, or found myself staring down the wrong end of a tank's barrel? The spiritual principle that allowed me to attain a feeling of unconditional peace at that dark moment would seem to apply. But what about practicing such a principle under extreme circumstances?

I don't know what I would or would not be able to do. But I know that I can hope and pray for those who are on the line, whether soldiers or civilians—and on both sides—that they do find that inner, spiritual clarity which allows them to feel a peace despite the circumstances, a peace that draws them closer to God.

Each moment of spiritual peace glimpsed, despite a raging storm, lends credence to the existence of a divine dimension, including a peace that is totally unshakeable. And I have heard and read countless reports of moments like that, from spiritual seekers around the world, even during times of war. Such a peace isn't an elusive prize waiting to be won, but a spiritual reality awaiting our individual and collective awakening to its eternal presence and reality.

Awaking to this peace involves spiritual effort, including persistent prayer that can help cultivate the practical ideas that move forward hopes for worldwide peace. Such prayers can be in response to the political and diplomatic needs ahead of a war, the fears and alarms during it, and the reconstruction efforts after it.

War, as a colleague reminded me, has a huge impact on those directly involved and on their families, as I know all too well from my family's suffering during two world wars. But the scope of war's impact, whether we're affected directly or indirectly, can include the experience of spiritual peace right in the eye of the storm. It's part of the calm that comes from both the little and big transformations in our lives that reveal God's reality, power, and presence.

For all involved in war, I pray for peace within the storm, just as I pray to see and respond to God's urging of humanity closer and closer to total disarmament of the thoughts that lead to war.

Send a comment to the editors

NEXT IN THIS ISSUE

Article

Becoming an instrument for peace

April 14, 2003

Contents

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit