How’s the serenity?

One of the lessons of 2020 that is already loud and clear is that the circumstances of life, from personal to global, can be relied on to be stormy. I shouldn’t be surprised by this, after all Jesus himself did say “In this world you will have trouble.” But this year it’s abundantly clear that we cannot rely on our external world to give us peace. There is much that could be said about trials and troubles, but one thing that is drawing my attention is the invitation to serenity.

Serenity is the quality of being peaceful and calm, and cheerful with it. To be serene is to by marked by utter and unruffled tranquillity whatever is going on.

Serenity, as I see it, is akin to the Biblical concept of peace – a species of peace, really. Serenity gets it’s particular quality from the images of nature it evokes. The word serene derives from a Latin weather descriptor for a calm, clear, unclouded day, free of storms and unpleasant changes. It also brings to mind a glassy smooth body of water.

Serenity has for a long time for me been an illusive state, beautiful but out of reach. It seems a pipe dream, the territory of those who naturally live in a zen-like state, and not of people like me (somewhat highly strung, anxious and perfectionist). Sometimes it has seemed actually comical in how inaccessible it feels.

As a teenager and young adult, one of my family’s favourite movies was Australian classic The Castle. It’s a charming story of simple-minded father Darryl taking on the justice system to defend what’s most precious to him and his family – his home. The movie is full of quotable quotes that have become part of the lore of my family: “What do you call this darl?” in praise of cooking, “Tell him he’s dreaming” for a suspect deal, “It’s the vibe of the thing” as a semi-legitimate legal argument at the law school I attended, and, of course, “How’s the serenity?”, Darryl’s deeply satisfied quip as his family gathered at their beloved, if lacklustre, holiday home (to the accompaniment the bug zapper).

As fun as it is to laugh at Darryl’s high-minded description of barely pleasant environs, I can’t help longing for a Darryl-like discovery of serenity, whatever circumstances I’m in.

I’ve realised that my longing for serenity is actually tied to my longing for God. Why? Because serenity is one effect of him inhabiting me, of me abiding in his presence. Having experienced snippets of that abiding, I long for more.

One of my favourite Bible passages says:

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4: 6-7

This transcendent peace is what I long for. It is the result of a beautiful exchange – my worries given as prayers, with serenity God’s gift in return. When peace beyond understand becomes the landscape of a soul, there is even more space for God.

As inviting as these ideas are, for some of us becoming people of peace feels like a constant battle against ourselves.

I’ve found the Enneagram to be a helpful personality tool for understanding myself and the pathway for my personal and spiritual growth. I identify as a Type One – often known as the reformer. We are a type that is relentlessly compelled, often by an inner critical voice, to do better and be better and make others better. I find it hard to shift my gaze from what is wrong with myself and my world. Among the variety of personality assessment systems (Alicia touched on the MBTI here in a previous post), the Enneagram is particularly useful in pointing towards a way to be most healthy within the personality that you are. I’ve found it surprising that the key virtue that it is possible for a Type One to epitomise is serenity.

Serenity seems the opposite of who I am naturally, but learning that serenity can actually be a characteristic of this personality has awakened my hope and determination of growing in it. It seems that what we find hardest can become our greatest strength.

Growing in serenity requires a release of the desire to be in control and to the need to have and do and be certain things for life to feel right. It needs me accept imperfection and to be dying to self over and over.

Though I’ve come across it lots before, I’ve recently gained a new appreciation for of the Serenity Prayer (read the full version, written by American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr in the 1950s here). Revisiting these words reminds me that a serene state of mind is a gift of God. It requires that release and acceptance – allowing that, although circumstances may be imperfect or painful or difficult, I can be at peace and in joy. It is not passive, but may require action. And it relies on trusting God’s wisdom and guidance.

Committing this prayer to heart may help more of us move towards the beautiful state of serenity that God offers us.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.

Are you someone who is characterised by serenity? What has helped you grow in serenity?

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