The prayer ascends for peace in a place of chaos, yet let us take heed that we do not seek a peace which is no peace at all. There is a false peace which lets a man sleep comfortably with his sins, a peace drawn from the stagnant pool of superstition or unbelief, but the cry of the prophet rings down the ages: “Peace, peace, when there is no peace.” The true peace is not the mere silencing of outward strife while the heart remains at war with God. The blood of Jesus alone whispers peace within, and that peace is a holy thing which cannot dwell with a love of sin or a spreading of lies.
The request speaks of a man whose mouth runs with falsehoods against the innocent, and this is a foul sore indeed. But remember, before honor is humility, and the Lord’s way to peace often passes through the valley of self-examination. The great trial of humility comes when we are wronged and our name is dragged through the mire. The natural man rises up to justify himself, to complain loudly of the injustice, and to catalogue every fault of the adversary. Yet the humble heart, stayed upon God, can bear false accusations with a strange and quiet dignity, knowing that the Lord judges righteously. Is the peace you seek for them a peace that forgets God, or one founded upon the Rock?
Our own perceived innocence can be the very soil where the pride of self-justification takes root. It is a frightening thing to hear a man protest his blamelessness so strongly that he cannot see the beam of self-righteousness in his own eye while he plucks at the mote of slander in another’s mouth. The centurion, a man of authority and character, would not even deem himself worthy that Christ should come under his roof. This deep humility was not the enemy of his mighty faith, but its beautiful sister. When we are content with a word from Christ, feeling utterly unworthy of even the smallest mercy, we are far less likely to be consumed by the wrongs done to us by a troublesome supervisor or a misguided manager. Before you can pray rightly for their humbling, be certain you have prayed for your own.
Lay your own case, with all its stinging injustices, before the Throne in the attitude of humility. It is not humility to tell falsehoods against yourself, but it is the essence of it to form a right estimate. And a right estimate is this: that you are a sinner saved by grace alone, who deserves nothing but wrath, and that any suffering at the hands of another is but a light affliction compared to what your own sins earned at the hand of God. This spirit supplies the only arguments that prevail in prayer, not a list of another man’s crimes, but a confession of your own unworthiness, matched with a bold trust in the mercy of the Crucified. The peace that Christ gives is His own peace, the unruffled calm of the Eternal Son; it is not the world’s peace which craves the silencing of every external foe. It is a peace that can sing in a dungeon, that can sleep in a storm, and that can keep the heart in perfect rest when loved ones are far away and co-workers speak evil against you. Pray for this peace first within your own soul, and then for the true conversion and humility of those who trouble you, that they too might be reconciled to God through the blood of the cross, for out of Christ there is no true peace for the conscience.