As we stepped into the second week of Advent this year, I found myself asking a simple question that I think many of us carry quietly: What are you feeling in this season? Is it calm? Is it joy? Or—if we’re honest—is it more like anxiety or pressure, maybe even a little fear?
Wherever you find yourself on that spectrum, I want you to hear this: Christ’s peace is for you.
Not just for the calm moments, but for the anxious ones too.
That’s been on my heart in this season—because the peace Christ brings isn’t something fragile. It’s not dependent on how well our week is going or whether our to-do lists behave. Christ’s peace is something deeper. It transforms hearts, homes, and entire communities… starting from the inside out.
Waiting Is Part of the Story
I think often about the people of Israel waiting for the Messiah—waiting over 700 years for Isaiah’s prophecy to be fulfilled. Waiting is part of our story. Hope is part of our story. And Advent meets us right there—in the longing.
Isaiah begins chapter 40 with a phrase I treasure deeply:
“Comfort, comfort my people.”
Those words feel like a warm hand on the shoulder. A reminder that God sees us, knows our burdens, and speaks comfort directly to our anxious hearts. But here’s the thing: for comfort to take root, we have to make room for it. We have to receive it.
And that’s where repentance comes in—not as a word of shame but as a word of hope.
Repentance is turning away from what keeps us from God so we can turn fully toward the One who brings peace.
“With Christ in the Vessel…”
When I was a little boy in primary school and Sunday school, we’d sing a simple chorus:
“With Christ in the vessel, we can smile at the storm.”
Even now, those words still calm me. I hope they calm you, too. Advent reminds us that Christ is not outside the boat shouting instructions—He’s in the vessel with us.
But we can’t experience the peace Christ offers if our hands are clenched around fear, resentment, or control. We have to surrender those places, trusting that sometimes the peace we’ve been waiting for is on the other side of a hard decision we’ve been avoiding.
Peace That Moves Us Toward Others
Here’s the part that really stretches me:
Christ’s peace is never just for us. It always calls us outward—toward the broken places in our families, friendships, and community.
Maybe there’s someone you need to forgive this season.
Maybe there’s someone who needs your presence, your compassion, your listening ear.
Peter reminds us, “Cast all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you.”
All—not some. And once you’ve cast those anxieties, once Christ has done His work in you, you’re called to carry that peace into the lives of others.
That’s what it means to embody the Prince of Peace.
The Peace That Found Me
When I came to this country—young, uncertain, overwhelmed—God met me through the love of a faith community. You were the ones who extended peace to me, who made room for me, who showed me the love of Christ in real, tangible ways.
I stand here today because someone carried peace into my life.
And if God can do that for me, He can do it through you for someone else.
Shalom: The Peace That Makes Us Whole
The Hebrew word for peace—shalom—means wholeness, harmony, restoration. This is the kind of peace Jesus brings. A peace that heals the fractures within us and then sends us into the world as healers.
Wesley said it beautifully:
Holiness begins in the heart, but it must be expressed in love toward others.
Inward transformation leads to outward mercy.
That means:
- feeding the hungry,
- comforting the lonely,
- confronting injustice,
- tending to the wounds people carry silently every day.
This is Christ’s peace in action.
Where Do You Need Christ’s Peace Today?
So let me ask what I’ve been asking myself:
Where does Christ’s peace need to enter your life this week?
Is there a relationship that needs mending?
A fear you’ve been carrying?
A hurt you’ve struggled to let go of?
Peace isn’t just a theme of Advent. It’s a way of living. A posture of humility. A willingness to be transformed so we can be instruments of reconciliation wherever we go.
My prayer is simple:
May the peace of Christ fill our hearts, shape our steps, and overflow into every place we are sent.
Not just during Advent, but every day we breathe.