While you are proclaiming peace with your lips, be careful to

Francis of Assisi, the humble saint who walked barefoot among the poor and spoke to the birds of the air, once declared with piercing simplicity: “While you are proclaiming peace with your lips, be careful to have it even more fully in your heart.” These words, like a gentle flame, illuminate the eternal truth that peace is not born from outward speech alone, but from the inward wellspring of the soul. For what good are words of peace if the heart is still bound by anger, resentment, or pride? The lips may deceive, but the heart cannot be hidden—its true state will be revealed in time.

The origin of this quote lies in Francis’s life itself. Born into wealth, he abandoned his riches to embrace poverty and humility, choosing to live among beggars and outcasts. In an age of violence, when Christendom was divided by crusades and feuds, Francis sought to embody peace not only in words, but in every step he walked. When he spoke of peace, it was not a distant ideal but a living reality, nurtured in his heart through prayer, compassion, and simplicity. Thus his warning is clear: peace proclaimed without peace lived is hollow, like a cymbal that clashes but makes no music.

This teaching reflects an eternal struggle: the gap between what is spoken and what is lived. Throughout history, rulers and leaders have declared peace, yet their hearts lusted for power. Treaties were signed, but armies still marched. Words rang out in councils and pulpits, yet suspicion, hatred, and fear poisoned the actions that followed. Francis knew that true peace cannot be manufactured by lips alone; it must first be cultivated in the soil of the heart, where it grows silently until its fruit blesses all who encounter it.

Consider the story of Mahatma Gandhi, centuries after Francis. Gandhi proclaimed nonviolence with his lips, but more importantly, he carried it in his heart. When beaten, he did not strike back. When insulted, he did not curse. His heart was at peace, and thus his words bore fruit, moving millions and shaking empires. Contrast this with leaders who preached peace but harbored vengeance in their hearts; their words soon proved false, and their nations were torn apart by war. This is the difference Francis sought to show: peace of heart gives life to words, but words without peace in the heart are empty breath.

The wisdom here is deeply personal as well. Many speak kindly but harbor bitterness; many promise reconciliation yet secretly nourish grudges. Francis reminds us that the heart is the true battleground. Until the heart is cleansed of anger and filled with love, the peace proclaimed outwardly will always falter. To live in harmony with others, one must first win harmony within oneself.

The lesson is clear: if you desire to be a bringer of peace, do not begin with speeches or proclamations—begin with your own heart. Root out envy, pride, and hatred. Nurture compassion, forgiveness, and humility. When your heart is at peace, your words will naturally follow, and others will feel the sincerity that cannot be faked. Peace must be planted within before it can be harvested without.

Practically, this means examining your own spirit each day. Ask yourself: do I carry grudges? Do I secretly rejoice at the misfortune of others? Do I speak of peace but live in conflict? Begin the work of healing your heart through prayer, meditation, or acts of kindness. Practice forgiveness even when it is hard, and let compassion guide your steps. For when the heart is transformed, the lips need not struggle to proclaim peace—it will flow naturally, like water from a pure spring.

Thus, the words of Francis of Assisi shine with undying relevance: “While you are proclaiming peace with your lips, be careful to have it even more fully in your heart.” Let this wisdom be a torch for every generation. Speak peace, yes, but more importantly, live it. For the truest peace is not heard in words—it is felt in the presence of a soul that has mastered its own storms and radiates calm to the world. Such a soul becomes a living sermon, more powerful than any proclamation, and more enduring than any treaty.