First keep peace with yourself, then you can also bring peace to

Thomas à Kempis, the humble monk whose pen gave the world The Imitation of Christ, spoke with eternal clarity when he wrote: “First keep peace with yourself, then you can also bring peace to others.” In these words lies a truth as ancient as humanity itself—that no man or woman may pour from an empty vessel, that no hand can offer peace while the heart burns with turmoil. For the one who is fractured within will spread discord without, while the one who has mastered their own soul becomes a fountain of calm for all around them.

The origin of this wisdom comes from Thomas’s life in the quiet cloisters of the 15th century. He belonged to the Brothers of the Common Life, who sought not power or prestige but holiness through simplicity, humility, and devotion. From this life of prayer and contemplation he understood that inner peace was not a luxury, but the very ground upon which all virtue rests. Without it, words of comfort ring hollow, and deeds of love collapse under the weight of inner strife. With it, even the smallest act carries the power to heal.

This truth is mirrored in the stories of history. Consider the example of Mahatma Gandhi. Before he could lead a nation in nonviolent struggle, he spent years disciplining his own heart—renouncing anger, pride, and hatred. It was his own peace within that made him a source of peace without, able to inspire millions to resist tyranny without striking a blow. Contrast this with leaders who, consumed by their own unrest and bitterness, spread only division and bloodshed to their people. The heart of the leader becomes the destiny of the multitude.

Peace within is not passive—it is a heroic conquest. To master one’s fears, to quiet the storms of anger, to tame the cravings of pride and desire—this is no small feat. It is as mighty as any battle fought with sword and shield. For the fiercest enemy is often the one within, and only when that enemy is subdued can one stand before the world as a true bringer of peace. Thomas à Kempis understood this deeply: that the peacemaker must first be at peace.

And what is the fruit of such peace? It is patience where there might be wrath, compassion where there might be judgment, forgiveness where there might be vengeance. The one who dwells in peace spreads it effortlessly, like a lamp that lights many others without diminishing its own flame. Such a person becomes an anchor in times of storm, a refuge for the weary, a guide for those lost in conflict. True peace begins not in treaties or proclamations, but in the silent transformation of the human heart.

The lesson for us is clear: do not rush to fix the world while neglecting the disorder in your own soul. Begin by seeking peace within yourself—through reflection, prayer, meditation, or honest self-examination. Ask yourself where restlessness, resentment, or fear rule over you, and learn to release them. Only then will your presence bring calm instead of agitation, healing instead of harm. In this way, each person becomes a peacemaker, and the peace of the world is built not from the top down, but from the heart outward.

Practically, this means tending daily to the garden of the soul. Rise each morning with intention, pause in the midst of conflict to breathe, forgive before bitterness takes root, and speak words that build rather than destroy. Cultivate peace within, and you will find yourself carrying it into every conversation, every relationship, every act. In this way, Thomas’s teaching lives on—not as a distant monastic ideal, but as a daily discipline for all who desire to change the world.

Thus we return to his timeless wisdom: “First keep peace with yourself, then you can also bring peace to others.” Let it be etched into your heart, for it is a map to transformation. The wars of the world may rage, but if within your heart there is peace, you become a seed of hope. And as more seeds are sown, the barren soil of conflict can bloom into a garden of harmony for all humankind.