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The world doesn’t slow down for Advent. In fact, the weeks leading up to Christmas often feel anything but peaceful. The pace quickens, expectations mount, and calendars overflow. We talk about peace on earth, but many of us feel the opposite—fragmented, hurried, and weary. Advent, however, calls us back to a different rhythm. It reminds us that the peace we long for does not come from escaping the noise or controlling our circumstances. It comes from the presence of Christ in the midst of them.
The second candle of Advent is the Candle of Peace. Its flame flickers quietly, a soft light in the swirl of activity. Peace, in the biblical sense, is more than the absence of conflict. It is shalom—wholeness, harmony, and restoration. Shalom is what God intended for creation in the beginning and what Christ came to restore. It is the peace that speaks into chaos and brings order, the peace that calms storms and reconciles enemies, the peace that holds steady when the world trembles.
When the angels appeared to the shepherds on that first Christmas night, they declared, “Glory to God in highest heaven, and peace on earth to those with whom God is pleased” (Luke 2:14, NLT). That proclamation was more than poetic; it was prophetic. God’s peace had entered the world—not as a political treaty, not as a fragile truce, but as a person. The birth of Jesus was heaven’s declaration that the war between God and humanity had been addressed. The Prince of Peace had arrived, and His reign would not be of this world’s kind.
The announcement of peace to shepherds was significant. Shepherds were not powerful or influential. They lived on the outskirts of society, unseen and often undervalued. Yet God chose them to be the first witnesses of the arrival of His peace. This tells us something profound about God’s heart: His peace reaches the overlooked, the anxious, the restless. It is not reserved for those who appear to have it all together but is offered freely to those who are simply willing to receive it.
When we look at Scripture, peace is often revealed in the midst of turmoil, not the absence of it. Think of the disciples caught in a storm on the Sea of Galilee, terrified as waves crashed over their boat. Jesus, asleep in the stern, is awakened by their cries. He stands, rebukes the wind, and says to the sea, “Silence! Be still!” (Mark 4:39, NLT). The storm obeys. What follows is not only calm waters but the awe of those who witnessed His authority. The disciples learned that peace is not found in the absence of storms but in the presence of the One who commands them.
In John 14:27, as Jesus prepared His disciples for His departure, He said, “I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.” These words are tender and powerful. Jesus knew that the path ahead for His followers would not be easy. They would face persecution, grief, and uncertainty. Yet He promised a peace that could not be shaken—a peace rooted in His presence, sustained by His Spirit, and anchored in His unchanging love.
The peace of Christ differs radically from the peace the world offers. Worldly peace depends on control—if we can manage circumstances, eliminate threats, or silence tension, then perhaps we can feel at ease. But Christ’s peace is born from surrender. It comes when we relinquish control and trust the One who holds all things together. It does not deny the existence of trouble; it transcends it. Paul captured this beautifully when he wrote, “Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7, NLT).
The early believers knew this peace intimately. They gathered in homes, breaking bread and praying, often under threat of persecution. Their external world was far from peaceful, yet they radiated a calm confidence rooted in Christ’s presence. They were people of shalom in a culture of fear. Their peace was not circumstantial but relational—it came from knowing the Prince of Peace personally.
As we light the second Advent candle, we are reminded that Christ’s peace is not a distant ideal; it is a present reality available to all who draw near to Him. Advent peace begins with reconciliation—with God and with one another. Through Christ, the hostility caused by sin has been destroyed. Paul writes in Ephesians 2:14, “For Christ himself has brought peace to us. He united Jews and Gentiles into one people when, in his own body on the cross, he broke down the wall of hostility that separated us.” The cross dismantled the barriers that divide. Peace is not passive—it is active, redemptive, and costly.
Peace also requires participation. Jesus said, “God blesses those who work for peace, for they will be called the children of God” (Matthew 5:9, NLT). To follow the Prince of Peace is to become a peacemaker. That means confronting division with grace, responding to conflict with gentleness, and extending forgiveness even when it costs us something. In a polarized and anxious world, peacemakers are not those who avoid hard conversations but those who enter them with humility and love.
At a personal level, peace often begins in the quiet spaces where we invite God into our own inner chaos. The demands of daily life, the noise of modern culture, and the pressures we carry can easily overwhelm our hearts. But Advent peace calls us to pause. To breathe. To rest in the presence of the One who says, “Be still, and know that I am God.” Stillness is not idleness—it is sacred attentiveness. It’s the discipline of letting Christ speak into our restlessness and reorder our hearts.
During this second week of Advent, consider creating small moments of stillness each day. Light your candle and sit in silence for a few minutes. Read John 14 or Philippians 4 slowly, letting each word wash over you. Reflect on the areas of your life that feel chaotic or divided and invite Christ’s peace into them. This simple practice—turning attention toward the Prince of Peace—becomes a way of cultivating shalom in your own heart.
Peace also grows through gratitude. Paul’s instruction in Philippians 4:6–7 connects peace with thanksgiving: “Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done.” Gratitude reorients us. It shifts our focus from what is missing to what is already present, from anxiety to trust. When we name God’s faithfulness in our past, it strengthens our confidence in His presence today. Gratitude is one of the quiet engines of peace.
There is also a communal dimension to peace. Advent is not only about personal stillness but also about shared reconciliation. The church is called to be a sign of God’s peace in a fractured world—a community where forgiveness replaces resentment, unity transcends difference, and love casts out fear. When believers live at peace with one another, we become a living testimony of the gospel’s power. In a culture addicted to outrage, the church’s gentle steadfastness speaks volumes.
Yet we cannot overlook how elusive peace can feel. Some reading these words are carrying deep grief, anxiety, or conflict that no candle or carol can easily soothe. Advent does not dismiss that pain. It meets it with compassion. Christ’s peace is not denial; it is divine presence in the midst of our suffering. When Jesus stood before His disciples after the resurrection, His first words were, “Peace be with you” (John 20:19). He spoke those words while His scars were still visible. The Prince of Peace carries wounds. That is how we know His peace can reach our broken places too.
There is profound comfort in knowing that the One who brings peace also understands pain. He does not offer platitudes but presence. He sits with us in our grief, walks with us in our confusion, and speaks calm into our storms. His peace is both a gift and a companion.
As we approach the midpoint of Advent, we are invited to live as carriers of peace. In a season marked by busyness and noise, the most countercultural act we can offer may be quiet presence. Listening without hurry. Offering kindness without expectation. Choosing gentleness over reaction. These are the small ways peace takes root in daily life.
This week, let your candle of peace remind you that God’s shalom is both gift and calling. Christ came not only to bring us peace but to make us peacemakers. Where can you bring peace this week? Perhaps it’s extending forgiveness to someone who hurt you. Perhaps it’s softening a harsh word, offering encouragement to a weary soul, or simply slowing down to notice beauty in an ordinary day.
The world will always have storms. But the peace of Christ remains unshaken.
1. It is the peace that surpasses understanding2. The peace that guards hearts and minds.3. The peace that flows from the eternal presence of Emmanuel—God with us.
As this second candle burns, let it be a symbol of assurance: even in chaos, Christ is near. His peace does not depend on perfect conditions. It is born in the manger of our need, carried in the heart of our Savior, and offered freely to all who will receive it.
So pause. Breathe deeply. Whisper His name. The Prince of Peace has come, and He is with you still.
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