The world is starving for real peace. Not fake positivity. Not numbing. Real, steady, “something different about that guy” peace. When the storm hits the office, the group chat, the family text thread—everyone’s watching who falls apart and who stands firm. Brother, your peace is a testimony. Paul and Silas sang hymns in prison. Other prisoners were listening. Your coworkers and unsaved friends are listening, too. They may not have read a Bible yet, but they’re reading your reactions. This doesn’t mean you fake it or never struggle. It means you keep bringing your fear to Jesus until your face, your words, and your choices start to reflect His calm instead of the culture’s panic. Today, ask God for one moment to show His peace through you—a hard email, a tense meeting, a frustrating delay. When it comes, breathe, pray under your breath, and respond like a man who knows Who holds him. Let’s pray together, Good a gracious father GOD, we Thank You that Your peace is not just for me, but also for those around me. Make me a living witness of Your steadiness. In my reactions and choices today, let others sense something different and be drawn to You. Use my calm under pressure to open doors to talk about Jesus. In His Mighty Name, Amen. “Let your moderation be known unto all men. The Lord is at hand.” (Philippians 4:5, KJV) “Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:16, NIV)

Grief is its own kind of storm. A death. A divorce. A dream that’s gone. Part of you knows you “should” have peace, but another part is just broken—and you feel guilty for not bouncing back faster. Brother, God is not rushing you. “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted.” Peace in grief doesn’t mean you stop crying. It means you don’t have to cry alone. Jesus wept at a tomb He was about to empty. He is not embarrassed by your tears. Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is let yourself feel the loss in God’s presence instead of numbing out. Holy comfort shows up where honest sorrow is allowed. Today, name the loss that still aches. Tell God what you miss, what you wish had been different. Ask Him to hold what you can’t fix and to breathe His presence into the empty spaces. Let’s pray together, Father, You see the grief I carry. Some of it is old, some of it is fresh, but it all still hurts. I bring You my sorrow, not just my strength. Meet me in the places that feel empty. Comfort me by Your Spirit and surround me with the right people. Let Your peace guard my heart even as I grieve. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18, ESV) “Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.” (Matthew 5:4, KJV)

You carry a lot of people in your heart—family, friends, brothers in crisis. You listen, pray, show up, carry burdens. But if you’re not careful, their storms can swallow your peace. You start to feel responsible for outcomes only God can control. Scripture tells you to bear one another’s burdens, yes—but never to become anyone’s Savior. There’s only one of those. Real peace in caring for others comes when you learn the rhythm of carrying them to Jesus, not carrying them instead of Jesus. Even Jesus often withdrew from the crowds to be alone with the Father. If He needed to reset, you definitely do. Loving people does not mean saying yes to every request or living constantly on-call. Today, picture the people weighing on you. One by one, place them in Jesus’ hands in prayer. Ask Him how to support them without trying to be their fixer. Let’s pray together, Lord, thank You for the people You’ve trusted me to love. I admit I’ve tried to carry some of them in my own strength. Today I release them into Your hands. Show me when to speak, when to listen, and when to step back. Protect my heart from burnout and fill me with Your steady peace as I care for others. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. “Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2, KJV) “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28, ESV)

Pride is a peace-killer. The need to be right. To win every argument. To be seen or in control. Inside it sounds like, “If I don’t push, I’ll be overlooked.” So you push—and lose your peace in the process. Jesus invites you into a different posture. “Learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.” Rest is connected to humility. When you stop trying to be the center, you finally get to breathe. Humility doesn’t mean you think less of yourself. It means you think of yourself less. You don’t have to jump into every fight, correct every mistake, or defend every action. You let God be your defender. Today, choose one place to step down instead of step up. Let someone else shine. Let the snide comment go. Take the lower seat and watch how your soul relaxes. Let’s pray together,Jesus, You are gentle and humble in heart. I confess my pride and need to be seen or right. Teach me Your way. Make me smaller in my own eyes and bigger in love for others. As I choose humility today, let Your rest and peace settle over my soul. In Your Name, Amen. “Learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.” (Matthew 11:29b, KJV)“Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time.” (1 Peter 5:6, NIV)

Today and every day moving forward, I am going to drop a short devotional and prayer for you my brother. December 13 – Peace with Eternity in View One reason peace slips through your fingers is you’re trying to build a permanent home in a temporary world. Every loss feels like the end because you quietly believe this life is all you’ve got. Scripture pulls back the curtain. “For here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to come.” You are an eternal man passing through a broken world, not a desperate man clinging to every comfort. That shift doesn’t erase grief—but it anchors it. Jesus beat death. That means even your worst-case scenario is not final. The grave is not the period at the end of your story. It’s a comma in the middle of God’s sentence. Today, hold your blessings with gratitude, not a death grip. Enjoy them. Steward them. But remind your heart: my hope is not in this house, this job, this body, or this bank account. My hope is in Christ and the Kingdom that cannot be shaken. Let’s pray together, Lord, thank You that this world is not my final home. When fear of loss or death rises up, remind me of eternity with You. Help me live with open hands and a steady heart, rooted in Your unshakable Kingdom. Fix my eyes on Jesus, my living hope. In His Name, Amen. “For here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to come.” (Hebrews 13:14, KJV) “Since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful.” (Hebrews 12:28a, NIV)