The War on Peace - Advent, Week 2
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Last week in the first Advent sermon, we talked about our addiction to speed, that skip intro button we love to hit on Netflix. This week, I want to talk about our addiction to noise. We live in the age of the notification. We're the most connected generation in human history, yet we're statistically the most anxious. We walk around with plastic earbuds jammed into our ears, listening to podcasts at one and a half times speed because normal human speech is just too slow for us now. We have 24-hour news cycles screaming at us from gas station pumps, airport terminals, and the supercomputers that we carry around in our pockets. If we aren't consuming noise, we're creating it.
We doom scroll through comment sections engaging in digital shouting matches with strangers that we will never meet. And even when the external noise stops, the internal noise takes over. that loop of anxiety, the replay of our past regrets, the what-ifs that keep us staring at the ceiling at 3:00 a.m. And then December hits, the calendar turns, the decorations go up, and the world hangs a sign that says, "Peace on Earth." It feels almost like a cruel joke, doesn't it? Peace in this economy, in this political climate, in this family dynamic.
We treat peace like a luxury item we can't afford. We tell ourselves, "I'll have peace when maybe I'll have peace when the kids are finally out of diapers, or I'll have peace when the bank account hits that magic number." But if that's your definition of peace, I got some hard news for you. You're never going to find it because there's always going to be another bill. There's always another variant. There's always another crisis. If your peace depends on your circumstances being perfect, your peace is as fragile as a soap bubble, my friend.
Welcome to week two of Advent. Last week, we lit the candle of hope. Today, we light the candle of peace. And just like last week, I'm going to tell you that the biblical definition of this word is radically, violently different from what you see on a Hallmark card.
If you didn't grow up in the church, or even if you did, you probably think peace just means quiet. The absence of trouble. Sitting by a fireplace with a cup of cocoa while snow falls gently outside. I'm from Texas, so I don't find that very peaceful, but you might. But that is not biblical peace. That's just comfort. And comfort is fragile.
Comfort breaks the moment the phone rings with bad news. To understand what we're talking about, we have to look at the history. When Jesus was born, the world was actually experiencing a famous time of peace. Historians call it the Pax Romana, the peace of Rome. The Roman Empire had conquered the known world. The roads were safe. Trade was booming.
But how was that peace achieved? It was achieved through the sword. It was peace through suppression. It was the piece of a boot on your neck. Keep your head down, pay your taxes, don't rebel, and you'll have peace. This is the world's version of peace, the absence of conflict achieved by force or avoidance. But the biblical word, the Hebrew word we focus on today is shalom.
You've heard this word, but shalom doesn't mean quiet. It doesn't even mean no war. Shalom means wholeness. It means completeness. It means everything being in its right place. It's the way a brick wall is at peace when every brick is solid and the mortar is holding tight. It's the way a human body is at peace when all the organs are functioning exactly as they were designed.
It's the weaving together of unraveled things. The Pax Romana says there is peace because we killed all the enemies. Shalom says there is peace because we have healed the brokenness. The world's peace says pretend everything is fine. God's peace says let me make it whole. And this leads us to the most important distinction of the morning. Peace is not the absence of trouble.
It is the presence of God in the trouble. Let's go to the text in Isaiah 40. There the prophet cries out, "Comfort, comfort my people, says your God." Now, context matters here. Who is he talking to? He isn't talking to people sitting by a fireplace. He's speaking to Israel in exile.
They're in Babylon. They've lost their homes. They've lost their temple. They've lost their national identity. They're weeping by the river. Their captives are mocking them, shouting, "Sing us a song of Zion." And they can't bring themselves to do it.
They're traumatized. They're anxious. They feel abandoned. And into that darkness, God speaks. But notice what he doesn't say. He doesn't say, "Relax. I'm going to zap you out of there instantly."
He doesn't say, "Don't worry. It's all going to be fine. He says, "Prepare the way for the Lord. Make straight in the desert a highway for our God." Do you hear that? In the desert, God brings peace in the desert. He brings shalom right in the middle of the wreckage.
He doesn't wait for you to get out of the mess to give you peace. He brings the peace into the mess to get you through it. This is where the imagery gets really interesting. Isaiah and later John the Baptist in the Gospels describes the coming of peace not as a gentle snowfall but as a massive construction project. He says, "Every valley shall be raised up. Every mountain and hill made low. The rough ground shall become level.
The rugged places a plain." We usually read this as poetic language, but think about the engineering here. This is earthmoving work. This is violent work. You don't lower a mountain by asking it nicely to move. You use dynamite. You use bulldozers.
Peace is not a passive emotion. Peace is a construction project. John the Baptist appears in the wilderness as the foreman of this project. He's shouting, "Prepare the way." Why? because the king is coming and the road to our hearts is blocked. We have obstacles that are keeping the prince of peace out.
What does this look like for us? Well, first we got the mountains. The mountains in our lives are usually our pride. It's the arrogance that says, "I don't need God. I can handle this. I can fix my own life. I am the captain of my own soul."
That mountain blocks peace because it puts all the pressure on you. If you're the captain, you have to steer the ship through the hurricane. That's exhausting. God wants to bulldoze that mountain. He wants to bring you low to a place of humility because humility is the soil where peace grows. Then we have the valleys. If the mountains are our pride, the valleys are our despair.
It's the depression, the voice that says, "I'm worthless. I'm too broken. God could never love me. I'm too far gone." That's a valley. And God wants to fill it in. He wants to raise you up.
He wants to pour his love into that hole until you are standing on level ground, able to look him in the eyes as a beloved child. This is the work of Advent. It's not just opening chocolate calendars. It's excavation. It's letting God level the ground of your heart so that his shalom can arrive. This brings us to the tension we live in. We know the theology, but we still feel the anxiety.
We know that Jesus, the prince of peace, has come. In John 14, Jesus tells his disciples, "Peace I leave with you. My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives." And here's the contrast. The world gives peace by escape. The world says, "You're stressed.
Here, take this pill. Buy this product. Watch this show. Drink this bottle. Numb out. escape.
Jesus gives peace by presence. He says, "I am going away, but I'm sending the comforter. I will be with you." Think of the story in Mark 4 where Jesus is sleeping in the boat during the storm. I love this story because it's so relatable. The disciples are professional fishermen. They know the water, but this storm is different.
The wind is howling. The waves are crashing. The boat is filling with water. This isn't a metaphor for them. They're about to die. And where's Jesus? He's asleep on a cushion in the stern.
The disciples wake him up and they ask the question we have all asked in our darkest moments. Teacher, don't you care if we drown? Maybe you've asked that this year. God, don't you care about my marriage? Don't you care about my finances? Why are you asleep? But Jesus isn't asleep because he doesn't care.
He's asleep because he knows who holds the ocean. He's at peace because his internal reality is stronger than the external chaos. And when he wakes up, he doesn't just stop the wind. He speaks to the elements. He says, "Quiet. Be still." Or literally in the Greek, "Be muzzled."
He imposes his internal order onto the external disorder. But here's the catch. The disciples were safe before he stopped the storm. Why? Because Jesus was in the boat. Peace doesn't come when the world calms down. Peace doesn't come when your schedule opens up.
Peace comes when Jesus stands in the boat. You see, peace isn't something you achieve. It's something you receive.
So, how do we live this out? If we aren't just waiting for a silent night, but we are actively preparing for the King of Peace, what does that look like on a Tuesday morning? Well, we need to be practical. Here are four ways to wage peace this week. And I use the word wage intentionally because peace is a battle. First, lower the volume. Just like last week I asked you to embrace silence, this week I want you to actively lower the input.
You can't have the peace of God if your mind is constantly at war with the algorithm. We're terrified of silence because when it gets quiet, we have to face ourselves. We have to face our thoughts. But you need to unplug. Limit the news. Put the phone in another room for an hour. Create a demilitarized zone in your house where digital noise is not allowed.
Give the Holy Spirit a chance to get a word in edgewise. Second, excavate the resentment. Remember Isaiah, make straight the highway. What's blocking the road to your heart? Usually, it's a grudge or maybe bitterness. We hold on to resentment because it feels like power. We think, "I won't forgive them because they don't deserve it."
And you know what? That might be true. They might not deserve it. But here's the reality. You can't hold on to resentment and hold on to the Prince of Peace at the same time. You just don't have enough hands. Resentment takes up the space in your heart where peace wants to live.
So this week, do the hard work. Excavate it. Release the debt. You don't have to trust them again, but you have to evict them from your head. Third, be a peacemaker, not a peacekeeper. There is a massive difference between the two. A peacemaker avoids conflict at all costs.
They sweep things under the rug. They say it's fine when it's not fine. That isn't shalom. That's denial. A peacekeeper lets the wound get infected just to avoid the pain of cleaning it out. A peacemaker enters the conflict to bring resolution. They speak the truth in love.
They offer the apology first. They bridge the gap. Jesus said, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God." Why? Because that is what the son of God does. He bridges the gap.
Fourth, we have the anchor. When the anxiety spirals this week, and it will, you need an anchor. You need a word from God. Memorize Philippians 4 6 and 7 this week. Do not be anxious about anything. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
I love that word guard. In Greek, it's a military term. It means to stand century. It means to form a flanks around a city. When you pray, when you cast your anxiety on him, the peace of God stands at the door of your heart with a spear in hand and says, "You can't touch him. He belongs to me." In closing, my friends, the world is loud.
It's angry. It's anxious. It wants you to join in that chaos. It wants you to pick a side, pick a fight, and live in fear. But you belong to a different kingdom. You're a citizen of a city whose builder and architect is God. So this week, when the waves get high, don't jump out of the boat.
Look to the one who's sleeping in the stern. Cry out to him in the storm. Not because he's absent, but because he invites you to cast your cares upon him, and let his shalom settle over you like a heavy, warm blanket. We wait for the day when he will return. We wait for the day when he'll break the bow and shatter the spear. When the wolf will lie down with the lamb, and when war will be studied no more. But until that day, we are the resistance.
Every act of forgiveness is a rebellion against the darkness. Every moment of quiet is an act of spiritual warfare. Every step toward shalom is a declaration of war against the chaos. Peace isn't a fragile candle flickering in the wind. Peace is the fire of God that the storm cannot extinguish. Let this be our prayer. Aba, Father, we confess that we are a people addicted to noise.
We've let the chaos of the world drown out the whisper of your spirit. We've sought peace and escapism, in control, and in numbing ourselves rather than in your presence. Forgive us for believing that peace is a place we find rather than a person we follow. Lord, come into our chaos today. Be the bulldozer in our hearts. Level the mountains of our pride and fear. Fill in the valleys of our insecurity and doubt.
Build a highway in us where your glory can travel. We ask for your shalom, not just for quiet, but for wholeness. Mend what is broken in our families. Heal what is fractured in our minds. Guard our hearts with the peace that passes all understanding. Make us instruments of your peace this week. Where there is hatred, let us so love.
Where there's injury, pardon. Where there's doubt, faith. We ask this in the name of the prince of peace, Jesus Christ. Amen. I wanted to take a moment to tell you about my book, The Broken Mirror: Rediscovering Our True Nature in Christ. Readers call it a fantastic book where you will feel yourself discovering your identity in Christ. One reviewer praised it as five-star material for the spiritual mystic or group Bible study.
It's time to escape legalism and shame. Discover you're already God's beloved child with divine nature flowing through you with what reviewers describe as excellent writing style and elegant pros like a campfire discussion with a knowledgeable and gifted recon tour journey from Genesis to Revelation uncovering your true identity. This book shows how to access God's peace, wisdom, and strength from within. Your struggles become opportunities for divine light to shine through. available in hardcover, paperback, Kindle, and audiobook. The link to the book is in the video description. May God bless your journey along his path for you.
[music] >> White plastic buzz jammed in tight. World spinning by at the speed [music] of light. We're scrolling through the doom, listening fast, trying [music] to make the distraction less. I saw a neon sign down on the street flickering peace to the chaotic beat. But it feels [music and singing] like a joke. Feels like a lie. Just a fragile wish against a stormy sky.
[music] We treat it like a cabin in [singing] the snow. A place we'll visit when we finally let go. [music] But the bills keep coming and the noise won't cease. And we're starving to death for a little bit of peace. [singing and music] But peace isn't quiet.
And peace isn't [music] safe. [singing] It's not a silent night or a hiding place. [music] It's the man sleeping sound while the storm waves [music] toss. It's the anchor holding fast. No matter the cost. Oh, the world gives a pill and escape a run, but peace is the [music] presence of the holy one. Yeah, peace is a [singing] person.
[music] Rome get the peace with the food on the neck. Just pay [music] your taxes and keep the fear in check. But shalom is a stone [music] in the ancient wall. Fitting together, standing tall. It's the healing of the bone, the mening OF THE SOUL. GOD in the rubble making [music] broken things whole. It's not a ceasefire.
It's not a truce. It's the power OF HEAVEN FINALLY CUT it loose. [music] Isn't quiet and peace. [music] It's not a silent night or [music] a hiding place.
It's the man. It's the holding [music] fast. No matter the cost. Oh, walk is a pill and escape a run. But peace [music] is the presence of a holy one. So send in the for me. Clear out the way.
Level the mountains of pride today. Fill in the valleys [music] of DEEP DESPAIR. BUILD A HIGHWAY FOR THE KING. Right there. We're waging a war [music] on the noise in THE NIGHT WITH A FIRE THAT BURNS IN the wind so bright. WAKE HIM UP. CRY OUT IN THE DEEP.
The [music] Savior is with you. He's not asleep. [music] >> [music] [music] >> We are the resistance.
We are the resistance. Every react of forgiveness is a rebel song. Every moment of silence corrects the road.
[screaming] SHALOM [screaming] IS COMING. [music] Shalom is here. [music] Heat. [music] Heat.
