On page 34 of a favorite book, a poem by John Greenleaf Whittier is quoted:

Drop Thy still dews of quietness
Till all our strivings cease.
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.

My life feels in constant disorder, even when things are picked up, cars are vacuumed, budget is kept to, and schedule is planned--disorder is still the undercurrent of my life. I answer the phone today and someone says "I love calling because there's this deep sense of peace in your voice, even in your initial greeting." And I say thank-you, because, well, what is one supposed to say?

Because I'm fully aware of the deep sense of unrest in my soul and heart. This morning I walk to work and exhale the missteps, the mistakes, and the failures of the week--and oh, they are many. I breathe in dews of quietness. I choose to make strain my slave and stress my enemy--things I order and do not let order me.

But the tension is still there and that is what surprises me. Order is not made of rest or peace, order means work, it means sacrifice, and it means reevaluations every single day. Order means repentance, turning and walking the other direction when we miss the mark. Order means I will my body to serve the Lord. Order means there is nothing in my natural person that is peace-filled.

We pray "Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven" knowing that this earth is not our paradise. But it is our portion and our plot for today--and Lord, we will order it accordingly. We will declare that Your peace is the garment of Your ordered children. We wear it humbly, we wear it proudly, we wear it though we do not deserve it.

Because You have ordered our lives according to Your good pleasure and You have said that peace is ours. So we take it, we thank You, and we are mindful of the responsibility it leaves on us. I order my life with only one confession and wear the testimony in my voice and my posture:

The beauty of Thy peace.