This time of year, everything around us seems to sparkle with Christmas joy. The tree in the town square is glowing, Christmas music drifts from every speaker, and twinkle lights turn even the most ordinary street into something magical. It’s the season of cozy traditions—cookies in the oven, the fireplace crackling, and the familiar readings we love so much: shepherds, angels, and a baby lying in a manger.
But every now and then, Advent surprises us.
I joked recently that the lectionary sometimes feels like playing the “Pastor Edition” of the TV show Chopped. Instead of being handed garlic ice cream and crunchy cheese curls, I get handed John the Baptist shouting:
“Repent! You brood of vipers!”
Not exactly the stuff of greeting cards.
And yet, there is a strange, holy wisdom in hearing John’s voice during this season. Advent isn’t just about cozy scenes and familiar carols. It is about preparation. It is about honesty. It is about clearing a path for Christ to come close. And sometimes the truth-tellers of Scripture show up right when we need them—even if their message sounds a little sharp against the backdrop of twinkle lights.
The Peaceable Kingdom We Still Long For
Alongside John’s fiery call to repentance, the prophet Isaiah paints one of the most beautiful scenes in all of Scripture—a vision of creation at peace:
- Wolves resting beside lambs,
- Cows and bears lying down together,
- Children leading wild animals without fear.
It is the kind of world we dream of when we sing, “Sleep in heavenly peace.”
Isaiah’s vision isn’t sentimental. It’s not a greeting-card fantasy. It’s a picture of a world set right by the Messiah—a world healed, restored, reconciled. A world where no one is hurt or destroyed. A world where justice and compassion are the very air we breathe.
It’s the world our hearts still long for today.
The Part of Isaiah We Often Skip Over
Between Isaiah’s tender images of animals and children is a passage we sometimes glide past:
“He shall judge with righteousness for the poor
and decide with equity for the oppressed…
Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist.”
Before there is peace, there is justice.
Before the manger, there is preparation.
Before “Silent Night,” there is the voice crying out in the wilderness.
John the Baptist stands on that bridge between promise and fulfillment. His words feel intense because the moment is important. He wants us awake. He wants us ready. He wants nothing to stand in the way of the peace God longs to give.
Changing Course: The Heart of Repentance
The word repent can feel heavy, but it simply means to change direction. To look at our lives with open eyes and say:
“Something needs to shift if I want to walk toward peace.”
In A Christmas Carol, Ebenezer Scrooge meets the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come and asks the question that echoes through every repentant heart:
“Are these the shadows of what will be,
or of what may be only?”
Scrooge discovers what John the Baptist wants us to discover too:
The future can change. Our course can be redirected. Peace becomes possible when we turn toward it.
A Christmas Truce in the Middle of War
One of the most extraordinary moments of peace happened on Christmas Eve 1914 along the Western Front of World War I. Soldiers from opposing armies heard each other singing carols. They saw small Christmas trees glowing along the trenches. Soon, men who had been enemies hours earlier met in No Man’s Land to exchange gifts, share food, and take photos together.
No one ordered a ceasefire.
They simply acted as if peace were possible.
For one holy night, it was.
Isaiah might say the wolf lay down with the lamb.
John might say repentance took root.
We might say that, for a moment, the Kingdom of Heaven drew near.
The Christmas Message Hidden in John’s Cry
So what does all this mean for us—people decorating trees, planning dinners, wrapping gifts, and trying to find a little peace of our own?
It means this:
Christmas isn’t just about celebrating the birth of Jesus.
It’s about making room for Him.
It’s about sweeping the “path” of our hearts—clearing away resentment, softening our voices, opening our hands to the poor and the lonely, choosing forgiveness when it’s easier to hold a grudge, and living with compassion in a world that sometimes forgets what compassion looks like.
It’s about recognizing that the world doesn’t have to stay the way it is.
Isaiah reminds us that peace is possible.
John reminds us that peace begins with repentance.
Jesus shows us that peace takes on flesh—our flesh—when we live by the Spirit.
“War Is Over… If You Want It”
Last night as I baked cookies, Christmas carols played softly in the background. When Jimmy Buffett sang, “War is over, if you want it,” I thought of Isaiah, John, Scrooge, and those soldiers in 1914.
Peace doesn’t float down from the sky like a snowflake.
It comes when hearts change.
It comes when people choose another way.
It comes when we make room for the Christ who brings justice and healing.
And that is the heart of Advent.
Not just waiting for Jesus to be born in Bethlehem,
but preparing for Him to be born in us.
May this Advent be a season of clearing paths, softening hearts, and choosing peace—
a season when the Kingdom of Heaven feels just a little nearer,
and the world looks just a little more like Isaiah’s dream.