Acts 16:9-15; Psalm 67; Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5; John 14:23-29
The Rev. Candice B. Frazer
The world is not a safe place. It never has been.
Oh, we may feel relatively safe—safe enough to complain about crime, poor education, the stock market, or the latest news. We call it a dangerous world from the comfort of our homes, offices, or maybe during coffee hour after church. But many of us have never truly known what it means to be unsafe. That’s beginning to change—and that makes these times even more challenging.
The other day, I saw a quote from writer Michell Clark that said,
“We weren’t designed to process global tragedy at breakfast, respond to work emergencies at dinner, and fall asleep doomscrolling at night. Our nervous systems never consented to this arrangement.”
I believe there is a lot of truth in that statement. The earliest part of the brain to evolve is the brain stem—often referred to as the “reptilian” or “lizard brain.” This region is responsible for detecting danger. It’s where our fight-flight-freeze instincts originate. Without it, humanity wouldn’t have survived. But in today’s world, it’s overstimulated, leaving us in a state of chronic anxiety.
You might recall the concept of BANI—Brittle, Anxious, Nonlinear, and Incomprehensible. In a BANI world, anxiety becomes our default. And when our lizard brains are stuck on overdrive, this state of anxiety becomes more pronounced.
The second part of the brain to evolve is the limbic system, often called the “dog brain.” I like to think of it as the Golden Retriever brain. It governs emotion, connection, and community. This brain is drawn to belonging—especially to those who feel familiar or non-threatening. But when we over-rely on it, it leads to tribalism—an “us vs. them” mentality that isolates and divides.
When our lizard and dog brains dominate our thinking, fear becomes the foundation of our decisions. We try to control our environment by limiting or excluding those who are different and perceive the “other” as threatening.
The last part of the brain to develop is the neocortex, or what is called the “owl brain.” This is the rational brain. It doesn’t react only to threat or comfort—it processes, evaluates, and weighs options. It’s capable of seeing nuance and making thoughtful decisions. The owl brain is not motivated by fear but by discernment, creativity, and risk-taking.
But let’s be honest—most of us are not living from our owl brains. We’re stuck bouncing between our lizard and dog brains. So when Clark says our nervous systems never consented to constant threat and negativity, perhaps the real issue is that our spiritual, emotional, and social systems have broken down.
The truth is the world hasn’t changed that much. We have. We’ve become more reactive, more fearful, more dependent on control than on trust. Our need for certainty and security has outpaced our belief in what is good, true, and beautiful.
Think back to the Last Supper—the night before Jesus would be arrested, tried, and crucified. He knew exactly what was coming. Yet at dinner, he talked about love and home and peace. He didn’t speak about the cruelty of Caesar, the corruption of Pilate, or the injustices of Jerusalem’s leaders. Instead, he spoke about love—about abiding with those who are stuck in fear and habitual negativity in order to share the Good News with them.
Jesus understood the disciples’ brains were wired for fear. He knew they’d default to panic and confusion. He didn’t meet their fear with more fear—he offered them something radically different. He gives them peace.
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.”
This peace is not a fleeting emotion or an abstract ideal. It is not escapism or temporary relief. It is not just a concept. Jesus gives to his followers his own inner peace—calm in the storm, centered in love, grounded in truth. The peace of Christ is empowering. It’s not the absence of trouble, but the presence of God in the midst of it. It is not simply relief from stress, but rest for our souls. True peace is not just a distraction or a vacation at Disney World, it guards our hearts and minds and leads us through the challenges of this world to the life triumphant.
The world tells us peace is comfort, distraction, or luxury. We think of peace as a moral responsibility or a fragile state we must preserve by avoiding conflict. But the peace Jesus gives is none of that. It is a choice—an act of the will. It is a way of thinking that engages our owl brain: a rational, grounded understanding that peace is rooted not in circumstance, but in relationship with God.
Jesus knew the world would always offer chaos. That’s why He clarified, “I do not give to you as the world gives.” The world gives peace by numbing or distracting. But true peace—the peace of Christ—is different. It’s empowerment. It doesn’t just calm your nerves; it guards your soul. The world tells us it can solve our problems, preserve our comfort, and protect our interests. But that’s a lie. As followers of Christ, we know a greater truth: our hope does not lie in this world. God is writing a bigger story—one we may not fully see, but are a part of nonetheless.
Even now, amid confusion and anxiety, God is not absent. Christ has already overcome the brokenness we face. We can receive the peace of Christ, but unless we cultivate it, we cannot carry it into the world. We must train our minds to rise above fear. Our owl brain must take the lead—not our lizard or dog brain. This is spiritual work. It’s emotional discipline. It’s how we become peacemakers, not just peace-receivers.
In a BANI world, peace is not merely a comfort—it is a calling. You are called to:
- Speak peace into the anxieties of your soul.
- Build bridges where others build walls.
- Name your pain rather than suppress it.
- Show gentleness in a harsh world.
The peace that Christ gives is not the world’s kind of peace—but it is the peace we so deeply desire, whether we are lizard-brained, dog-brained, or owl-brained.
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you…
Amen.