By Chris Richards - Founder, Antiha.org
Published: April 9, 2026
Core Tenets Series

It is 3:00 AM, and the ceiling fan is a rhythmic ghost against the dark. You are staring at it, but your mind is miles away, pacing through a list of things you cannot change. Perhaps it is a looming debt, a fractured relationship, or the general, low-grade humming of a world that feels like it is coming apart at the seams. You try to pray, but the words feel heavy, sinking under the weight of an internal unrest that won't go quiet. You realize, in the silence of your bedroom, that your sense of stability is far more fragile than you ever wanted to admit.
This is the internal tension of the modern soul. We spend our lives trying to manufacture a version of peace that is entirely dependent on our ability to control our surroundings. We think that if we can just get the house quiet, the bills paid, and the people around us to behave, we will finally be at rest. But the moment a single variable shifts: a sharp email, a bad news cycle, a sudden illness: that peace evaporates. We are left grasping for air, wondering why the stability we work so hard for is so easily stolen.
In our culture, "peace" is almost always defined as the absence of something. It is the absence of noise, the absence of conflict, or the absence of stress. We treat it like a luxury or a temporary vacation from reality. Because we view peace as a product of our circumstances, we become frantic managers of those circumstances. We curate our feeds, we avoid difficult conversations, and we retreat into ideological silos where everyone agrees with us, all in a desperate attempt to feel "at peace."
But this version of peace is an illusion. It is a house of cards built on the hope that nothing bad will happen. When we try to control our way to peace, we actually become more anxious, because we realize how little we truly control. This exhaustion is what drives so much of our outrage. When we can't find internal peace, we lash out at the world, demanding it change so that we can feel better. We think we need a better world to have peace, but Jesus suggests we need a better peace to live in this world.
When Jesus sat with His disciples on the night He was to be betrayed, He knew their worlds were about to shatter. He didn't offer them a change in circumstances or a plan for political revolution. Instead, He offered them something that the world simply cannot produce.
“Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you; not as the world gives, give I to you. Don’t let your heart be troubled, neither let it be fearful.” (John 14:27, WEBUS)
This is not a promise of easier circumstances. It is a promise of a different foundation.
In the Greek text, the word used for peace is Eirēnē (εἰρήνη), which refers to a state of untroubled, undisturbed well-being. But in the Aramaic language Jesus likely spoke to His friends, the word is Shlama (ܫܠܡܐ). This word carries a weight that the English "peace" often misses. It isn't just a lack of noise; it is a sense of completeness, wholeness, and the restoration of a debt. To have this kind of peace is to be "all there," anchored and reconciled.

Radical Peace is not avoidance, and it is certainly not silence in the face of evil. It is the internal stability that allows a person to remain functional and loving even when the external world is in chaos. It is the kind of stability that holds, even when everything else is moving. While the world thinks peace is found by running away from the storm, Jesus shows us that peace is found by being so anchored in the Father that the storm cannot move you.
This is why Jesus calls us to be peacemakers, not just peace-lovers.
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.” (Matthew 5:9, ASV)
A "peace-lover" avoids conflict to protect their own comfort. A "peacemaker" moves into conflict to bring this wholeness of God into the mess. You cannot give what you do not have. If your internal state is one of reactive anxiety, you will only add to the noise. But if you are operating from Radical Peace, you become a non-anxious presence in a room full of rage. You become a person who can listen without getting defensive and speak without needing to destroy.
How do we actually get this kind of peace? It isn’t something we can manufacture through breathing exercises or positive thinking. It is a theological reality before it is an emotional one. Radical Peace begins with reconciliation.
“Being therefore justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Romans 5:1, ASV)
You cannot consistently have the peace of God until you are sure you have peace with God. Much of our internal unrest comes from a subconscious sense of being "at odds": with our Creator, with our neighbors, or with ourselves. When we realize that our standing before God is not based on our performance or our political correctness, but on the finished work of Jesus, the core of our anxiety is dismantled. We no longer have to prove ourselves or protect our image. We are free to be still.
We see this modeled perfectly during the trial of Jesus. He was faced with false accusations, mockery, and the threat of a gruesome death. Yet, in the face of the highest possible stress, His stability was unshakable. He didn't scream, He didn't grovel, and He didn't use His power to retaliate.
“But Jesus held his peace.” (Matthew 26:63, KJV)
His silence wasn't the silence of a victim; it was the silence of a King who knew exactly who He was and whose He was. He was operating from a source of authority that Pilate and the Sanhedrin couldn't touch. That is Radical Peace: the ability to be under immense pressure and remain fully yourself, fully loving, and fully present.

What does this look like in a world of doom-scrolling and constant outrage? It looks like a refusal to be "triggered" into hate. When you encounter a headline designed to make you angry, or a neighbor who treats you like an enemy, Radical Peace allows you to pause. It creates a space between the stimulus and your response. In that space, you remember that your peace is not something that person can give or take away.
This stability is the "fruit of the Spirit" mentioned in Galatians.
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith…” (Galatians 5:22, KJV)
Notice that peace is listed alongside longsuffering and gentleness. This tells us that biblical peace is an active, sturdy virtue. It is the strength to be gentle when everyone else is harsh. It is the ability to wait when everyone else is panicking.
Ask yourself: What currently controls your peace? If you lost your job, your health, or your social standing tomorrow, would you still have a reason to be still? If your peace is found in control, it will always be under threat. But if your peace is found in Christ, it is as secure as He is.
We invite you to move beyond the fragile, circumstantial peace the world offers. We invite you to the Way of Jesus, where stability is found not in the absence of the storm, but in the presence of the Savior who walks on the water.
Radical Peace is not found in control: it is found in Christ. It is the stability that allows us to be a witness in a world that has forgotten how to be still.
It Starts With Me. Not Left. Not Right. Anti-Hate.