By Jeanni Ritchie
Concealed carry is the practice of carrying a weapon—typically a handgun—in a hidden manner, either on one’s person or in close proximity. Permits are issued for such a use.
Yet there’s another “concealed carry” we have automatic rights for as Christian: a peace that transcends all explanation. I’ve watched it change dynamics in conflicts, in chaos, and even in my own home.
A calm spirit can minister to those in the depths of darkness without uttering a word. A peaceful presence can shift the entire atmosphere.
There’s both science and faith behind this idea.
In psychology and neuroscience, it’s called co-regulation. Human nervous systems are not isolated. We constantly read cues from one another—tone of voice, breathing patterns, posture, facial expression. Without realizing it, our bodies adjust to the emotional environment around us.
A regulated nervous system can help calm a dysregulated one.
An anxious nervous system can agitate an otherwise peaceful room.
This is why babies settle when held by a calm caregiver. Why tension spreads quickly in a household. Why one grounded presence can change the temperature of a space without saying a word.
It’s not manipulation.
It’s biology.
And faith has been saying this long before neuroscience caught up.
The Bible doesn’t talk about nervous systems, but it speaks often about peace that passes understanding, about being a non-anxious presence, about the power of stillness.
Be still, and know that I am God. Psalm 46:10
Not perform calm. Not force peace.
Be still.
Jesus modeled this constantly. He didn’t rush to match chaos with chaos. He didn’t absorb panic and reflect it back. He carried something steady—so steady that storms calmed, crowds quieted, and broken people exhaled in His presence.
Peace was not something He did.
It was something He was.
That’s the distinction we often miss.
When we think we’re responsible for keeping everyone okay, we exhaust ourselves. But when we tend to our own inner steadiness—emotionally, spiritually, physically—we become something others can lean against.
Not saviors.
Anchors.
This doesn’t mean we never feel anxiety, grief, or frustration. But we should prioritize self-regulation when we do, knowing we cannot help others without first tending to ourselves.
Because whether we want it to or not, what’s happening inside us leaks outward.
Our breath sets a rhythm.
Our posture signals safety or threat.
Our presence either steadies or stirs.
It’s the quiet power of regulated peace.
Perhaps that’s what it means to be salt and light in ordinary spaces—not louder words, but a steadier nervous system rooted in trust and grounded in truth.
Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is tend our own calm…
and let it ripple.
Jeanni Ritchie writes faith essays in her blog, Faith Unfaded. Subscribe to have them delivered straight to your email: faithunfaded.
