SERMON
God With Us Brings Peace – December 21, 2025
Pastor Paul Georgulis
As we light the candle of peace, Advent invites us to pause and reflect on what we actually mean when we say we want peace. Most of the time, we imagine peace as the absence of disruption—when the noise stops, the conflict is resolved, or the problem goes away. We want peace to look like calm schedules, settled nerves, and clear answers. But Advent invites us to reconsider those assumptions. It suggests that peace can arrive even when life remains unsettled.
Advent is a season that calls us to slow down and pay attention to the gift God brought into the world—and continues to bring into our lives. That gift is peace. Yet peace often feels fragile or just out of reach, especially when life feels full, anxious, and overwhelming. The peace announced at Jesus’ birth was never meant to fix everything all at once. It was about what God was offering then—and what God continues to offer now: a peace the world cannot give and therefore cannot take away.
This leads us to a deeper question—not just what peace is, but why peace was announced at Jesus’ birth. Luke 2:4–14 helps us begin to answer that question. Joseph and Mary are on the move because of a census ordered by Caesar Augustus. They have no choice in the matter, no control over the timing, and no protection along the way. Mary is pregnant, they are far from home, and their situation is anything but peaceful.
It is into that moment—into a world marked by fear, powerlessness, and uncertainty—that the angels appear to shepherds and announce good news: a Savior has been born, and peace is declared. The angels do not announce the end of Roman rule. They do not promise that conflict or suffering will immediately disappear. Instead, they announce peace—peace grounded not in circumstances, but in God’s favor and initiative.
The angels were not claiming that the world suddenly became peaceful when Jesus was born. Injustice still existed. Conflict remained. Suffering did not disappear. What they were announcing was that a new kind of peace had become possible—a peace that would begin the work of restoring what had been broken.
Scripture often uses the word shalom to describe peace. Shalom is more than calm or quiet. It is wholeness, completeness, harmony—life as God intended it to be, with nothing missing and nothing broken. The announcement of peace at Jesus’ birth signals that something has gone wrong with that original vision. Sin fractured what God made whole. It disrupted our relationship with God, distorted our relationships with one another, and left creation itself longing for restoration.
This is why forgiveness is central to the peace Jesus brings. Forgiveness is not the same as forgetting or pretending pain did not matter. It is about refusing to let the past have the final word. When forgiveness remains unresolved, the past continues to shape the present. Forgiveness—difficult as it is—opens the door to healing and peace.
Peace begins when God steps into our story. And that matters, because what remains unresolved within us does not stay in the past—it shapes how we live, how we trust, and how we carry anxiety in the present.
Still, many of us wonder whether peace is really possible now. The world does not feel peaceful, and even when things begin to settle down, peace can feel temporary. The New Testament is honest about this reality. Jesus never promises a trouble-free life. Instead, He acknowledges that trouble will come, while also declaring that He has overcome the world.
This helps us understand why peace is announced before anything else. Peace is not something we earn by getting life right. It is something we receive because of what Jesus has done. As Paul writes in Romans 5, because we have been made right with God through faith, we now have peace with God through Jesus Christ. Peace begins here—with reconciliation with God.
This peace is not something we stumble into or initiate on our own. God takes the first step toward us in Jesus, offering forgiveness and reconciliation. Peace grows as we continue to return to that grace.
Near the end of His life, knowing suffering and betrayal were coming, Jesus promised His disciples peace—not as the world gives, but His own peace. The peace Jesus gives does not always feel peaceful at first. It can unsettle us before it comforts us, calling us to surrender control, trust deeply, and face what we might prefer to avoid. But on the other side of that surrender is a peace that does not depend on circumstances or outcomes.
Jesus does not merely talk about peace—He gives Himself as our peace. As Paul writes in Ephesians 2, Jesus Himself is our peace. Through the cross, He breaks down the walls that divide us, reconciles us to God, and draws us into a reconciled people. This is shalom—restoration and wholeness made possible in Christ.
When the angels announced peace at Jesus’ birth, they were not announcing a temporary calm. They were announcing that the work of reconciliation had begun. This was not a new idea or a last-minute plan. Isaiah promised a child who would be called the Prince of Peace, and Luke shows us that promise being fulfilled—not in a palace, but in a manger.
Peace matters because it tells us that God has not abandoned His creation, but is actively at work restoring it through Jesus. And because of that, we can live with this kind of peace now. Advent peace does not require certainty about tomorrow; it trusts God today. Until God completes what He has begun, we practice peace—not perfectly, but faithfully—through forgiveness, love, and justice.
To follow the Prince of Peace is to become peacemakers, not because peace comes easily, but because peace has already been given to us in Jesus. This Advent, we wait—not in despair or resignation, but in hope rooted in the full story of God’s peace: a manger, a cross, and an empty tomb.
Advent is a season that calls us to slow down and pay attention to the gift God brought into the world—and continues to bring into our lives. That gift is peace. Yet peace often feels fragile or just out of reach, especially when life feels full, anxious, and overwhelming. The peace announced at Jesus’ birth was never meant to fix everything all at once. It was about what God was offering then—and what God continues to offer now: a peace the world cannot give and therefore cannot take away.
This leads us to a deeper question—not just what peace is, but why peace was announced at Jesus’ birth. Luke 2:4–14 helps us begin to answer that question. Joseph and Mary are on the move because of a census ordered by Caesar Augustus. They have no choice in the matter, no control over the timing, and no protection along the way. Mary is pregnant, they are far from home, and their situation is anything but peaceful.
It is into that moment—into a world marked by fear, powerlessness, and uncertainty—that the angels appear to shepherds and announce good news: a Savior has been born, and peace is declared. The angels do not announce the end of Roman rule. They do not promise that conflict or suffering will immediately disappear. Instead, they announce peace—peace grounded not in circumstances, but in God’s favor and initiative.
The angels were not claiming that the world suddenly became peaceful when Jesus was born. Injustice still existed. Conflict remained. Suffering did not disappear. What they were announcing was that a new kind of peace had become possible—a peace that would begin the work of restoring what had been broken.
Scripture often uses the word shalom to describe peace. Shalom is more than calm or quiet. It is wholeness, completeness, harmony—life as God intended it to be, with nothing missing and nothing broken. The announcement of peace at Jesus’ birth signals that something has gone wrong with that original vision. Sin fractured what God made whole. It disrupted our relationship with God, distorted our relationships with one another, and left creation itself longing for restoration.
This is why forgiveness is central to the peace Jesus brings. Forgiveness is not the same as forgetting or pretending pain did not matter. It is about refusing to let the past have the final word. When forgiveness remains unresolved, the past continues to shape the present. Forgiveness—difficult as it is—opens the door to healing and peace.
Peace begins when God steps into our story. And that matters, because what remains unresolved within us does not stay in the past—it shapes how we live, how we trust, and how we carry anxiety in the present.
Still, many of us wonder whether peace is really possible now. The world does not feel peaceful, and even when things begin to settle down, peace can feel temporary. The New Testament is honest about this reality. Jesus never promises a trouble-free life. Instead, He acknowledges that trouble will come, while also declaring that He has overcome the world.
This helps us understand why peace is announced before anything else. Peace is not something we earn by getting life right. It is something we receive because of what Jesus has done. As Paul writes in Romans 5, because we have been made right with God through faith, we now have peace with God through Jesus Christ. Peace begins here—with reconciliation with God.
This peace is not something we stumble into or initiate on our own. God takes the first step toward us in Jesus, offering forgiveness and reconciliation. Peace grows as we continue to return to that grace.
Near the end of His life, knowing suffering and betrayal were coming, Jesus promised His disciples peace—not as the world gives, but His own peace. The peace Jesus gives does not always feel peaceful at first. It can unsettle us before it comforts us, calling us to surrender control, trust deeply, and face what we might prefer to avoid. But on the other side of that surrender is a peace that does not depend on circumstances or outcomes.
Jesus does not merely talk about peace—He gives Himself as our peace. As Paul writes in Ephesians 2, Jesus Himself is our peace. Through the cross, He breaks down the walls that divide us, reconciles us to God, and draws us into a reconciled people. This is shalom—restoration and wholeness made possible in Christ.
When the angels announced peace at Jesus’ birth, they were not announcing a temporary calm. They were announcing that the work of reconciliation had begun. This was not a new idea or a last-minute plan. Isaiah promised a child who would be called the Prince of Peace, and Luke shows us that promise being fulfilled—not in a palace, but in a manger.
Peace matters because it tells us that God has not abandoned His creation, but is actively at work restoring it through Jesus. And because of that, we can live with this kind of peace now. Advent peace does not require certainty about tomorrow; it trusts God today. Until God completes what He has begun, we practice peace—not perfectly, but faithfully—through forgiveness, love, and justice.
To follow the Prince of Peace is to become peacemakers, not because peace comes easily, but because peace has already been given to us in Jesus. This Advent, we wait—not in despair or resignation, but in hope rooted in the full story of God’s peace: a manger, a cross, and an empty tomb.