Matt Chandler - The Advent of Peace

There is a set of subversive expectations that we are steeped in when it comes to Christmas. Books, movies, and the lore of the holidays promise all things can be made right and complete through the magic of the season. Our human hearts are desperate for this relief and it is found in Jesus Christ, our Prince of Peace. The Advent of peace is now.

Show/hide text

Good morning. I’m probably only going to speak for about 15 to 20 minutes, seriously, because of my voice and other elements. There is a kind of set of subversive expectations that we can’t help but absorb around this time of year, Christmas time. We’ve been steeped in it our whole lives; this is the time of year when Buddy will be reconciled to the father who abandoned him, and it doesn’t matter that Ralphie is going to shoot his eye out—he’s going to get the Red Ryder BB gun. The Grinch’s heart will grow three sizes during this time of year, and Scrooge will magically become a generous and kind human being. Clark is going to get that bonus check just in time to put in the pool, right? This is what you and I are steeped in during this Christmas season, right? This is the message we’ve received about this magical time of year our whole lives. It works because it pulls on what Ecclesiastes 3:11 calls «eternity in our hearts.» All of these movies, all of these shows, yes—reconciliation will happen, forgiveness is possible, I am wanted, loneliness will be driven out of my life, and relational reconciliation with people I love will occur, even though Uncle John wears me out. This is the year! Even though my kids are wayward, this is the year that it all comes together. On Christmas morning—actually, it is Sunday morning—magic happens.

The reason why these stories are told during this time is that you have the Hallmark Channel, and it’s all you’re watching, right? The reason this works is that you and I live in a house built by the Kingdom of God. These things captivate the secular, the atheist, the believer, the Buddhist, you name it. The reason we are all drawn in is that it touches a hopeful part of us. The problem is that the promises of the Kingdom, without the King, will always leave us frustrated, empty, and waking up to the realization that our hope has failed us. If you’re like me, I think it’s not even front-of-mind—that this is the year that everything happens. It’s just a kind of nostalgia, a feeling that maybe this is the year when my sister and I will be reconciled. Maybe I’ll get the opportunity to convince Cousin Bill that he’s voting the wrong way for the good of the Kingdom and country, of course! It’s just a hope that these strained relationships and broken parts of us will be mended. Or maybe, in the deepest part of who we are, that kind of subversive question rolls around in there: Am I wanted? Can I be forgiven for the things I’ve put my family through, for the things I’ve failed at? Am I really wanted? Can I truly be forgiven?

See, I don’t know if you know this, but «Buddy the Elf» is a masterclass in broken family dynamics and a picture of reconciliation. Oh my gosh, look! He not only has been reconciled, but all the past has been undone, and they saved Christmas together! This is the message, and it provokes something in us because, listen to me, it is a shadow of something real. The hope that you and I have is for internal peace and external peace. Can I be forgiven? Am I actually wanted? Can I be reconciled to the world around me, to the relationships that are strained, or can I delve deeper into those relationships to make them more meaningful and create in me a sense of stability and belonging?

The reason why Advent starts the Christian calendar is that it roots our hope in an ever-increasing peace available to those who will submit to the lordship of Jesus Christ. The coming of Jesus ushers in an opportunity for peace. Those shows evoke hopes in the deeper parts of our being. Advent, the Christian calendar, starts with «Peace has arrived, and He has a name.» So, as we orient our hearts heading into this last stretch before Christmas morning, it’s important that we don’t get caught up—in all the fun of utensils, trees, getting everyone’s presents ready, deciding what we’re having for lunch, and all the details of where people are going. We must not lose sight of the fact that, as fun as all of that can be, it is a shadow of a greater reality. If you worship the shadow and not the reality, then you will have that weird moment when you take everything down and your house looks plain again. The lights are all gone, and some of the aesthetic beauty of this season vanishes. Then it feels plain, and it feels empty.