For as long as I can remember, my favorite Christmas movies have been war movies. I know it seems a bit unorthodox, but while everyone debates the canonicity of Die Hard, I slip comfortably below the radar, wrapped in the warm embrace of my own hagiographic epics of great American valor. From Gary Cooper’s Tennessee turkey shoot in Sgt. York to the careful-but-spirited American POW Christmas celebration under the thumb of a snowy Nazi hellscape in Stalag 17, I can make even the most minor connection between war and the holidays to ease my Christmas conscience. Of course, this shouldn’t be a bridge too far for anyone because White Christmas—arguably the greatest Christmas movie ever made—is itself a war movie.
None of these measure up, though, to the modern gold standard, Band of Brothers. Besides being an incredible story about some of the most arduous battles of my grandfather’s service, a particular scene has always stuck with me. On a bleak and miserably frozen Christmas Eve night, the frantic sounds of bombardment during the Battle of the Bulge give way to an eerie calm as the carol Silent Night emanates from within the trenches. There may never be a stranger environment for an impromptu men’s chorus belting “sleep in heavenly peace,” yet, even if only for a few short moments, Christmas brought peace.
This may seem like Hollywood fiction, but it actually happened.1 In fact, historically speaking, Christmas ceasefires were not wholly uncommon—the most famous being the Christmas Truce of 1914, in which 100,000 British and German troops gave up arms in exchange for gifts and even football (read, soccer)!2 Even amidst our most craven human designs underfoot the machinery of war, the arrival of the Messiah proves itself a show-stopping glimpse into the antidote of peace for a world marked by the terminal disease of chaos and disorder.
Peace is powerful, and it is a predominant theme in the narrative of the incarnation, as well as within the fabric of the person of Christ (for example, he is the Prince of Peace,3 the angels announced peace on earth to the shepherds, and numerous hymns and carols expound on “peace”). Still, you might be surprised to learn that peace is meant to be more than a feeling. Spurgeon noted, “Perfect peace with God is the grandest thing in all the world with which to travel through life.”4 “To travel with”—there is an action involved. Just like it was action and not simply the experience of peace that uprooted evil in these great wars, peace empowers and emboldens the believer to live a life on mission, in obedience, and full of blessedness. The birth narratives of the Gospels give us a glimpse into this relationship and can inspire us to live our lives outward off the springboard of peace in kind.
The Peace of the Promise Moves us to Hopeful Anticipation
The world largely operates on promises. Many people own a home only because they have promised to pay the bank back. Marriage vows are often just a list of promises. My children usually only quiet down when I promise them something. Promises take uncertainty out of the future, but they only work when the person making the promise has demonstrated the trustworthiness of their word. For us, on the other side of history (and aware of the power of John 1:1), we can look at the ways God has kept his word and we can know that he will continue to keep his word.
Consider the genealogy from Matthew or the story of Simeon in the book of Luke. In the genealogy, not only do we see Jesus’ lineage through key figures in Israel’s history, we also see how it embodies the persistent hope of an undeserving people awaiting their Messiah. This lineage, encompassing patriarchs, kings, and unexpected figures like Tamar and Ruth, illustrates God’s unfolding plan across generations. Simeon, promised by the Holy Spirit that he would witness the Messiah, sees in Jesus the realization of centuries of expectation (Luke 2:30).
Like Simeon and the Israelites, who had long endured with hopeful anticipation, we are encouraged to live out the peace of God’s promises. Their stories remind us that our waiting and faith are not in vain for ourselves or our children. In the advent of Jesus, we continue to see how God fulfills His promises, inviting us to await his workings in our lives with confidence and a hopeful and expectant heart.
The Peace of the Plan Moves us to Enduring Faithfulness
If you’ve ever been on vacation with my dad (I have), you will quickly understand that there is much peace to be had when there is a plan (something you’ll see he has in common with Joseph). Confronted with Mary’s unexpected pregnancy, Joseph initially plans a quiet separation, a decision born out of concern and respect (Matthew 1:19). However, this plan changes dramatically after a divine revelation in a dream: “But as he considered these things, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, ‘Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit'” (Matthew 1:20, ESV). This revelation imparts peace from understanding his part in God’s grand plan, shifting his perspective, and guiding his actions.
Joseph’s response to this revelation is a testament to his faithfulness, and his journey is a poignant example of how recognizing and trusting God’s plan can bring peace, even in impossible situations. Joseph’s story invites us to find peace in the knowledge that God’s plan for our lives is far greater than anything we could manifest for ourselves.
The Peace of the Proclamation Moves us to Bear Witness.
Receiving long-awaited news often brings a deep sense of peace. Even if it is bad news, we still find peace that the hardest part, the waiting, is over. Be it a phone call from the doctor or news from a job search, we have all experienced the peace accompanying revelation. This is powerfully illustrated in the angel’s announcement to the shepherds in Luke: “And the angel said to them, ‘Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.’” (Luke 2:10-11, ESV) Their response to this news reflects an immediate embrace and eagerness to share it: “And when they saw it, they made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child” (Luke 2:17-18, ESV).
In this spirit, we, too, are called to communicate this good news. The angelic declaration at Jesus’ birth models our mission to witness. In spreading this message, we contribute to the peace that Christ embodies, inviting others into the life-changing embrace of God’s love and grace.
The Peace of the Praise Moves us to Gratitude.
That we have someone worth praising—who has promised to always be with us—brings us tremendous peace, and that peace pushes us towards gratitude. Mary’s Magnificat, a song of praise (Luke 1:46-55), beautifully captures this sentiment. Her spontaneous outpouring of gratitude and reverence, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,” reflects a deep recognition of God’s greatness and mercy. This heart-space of gratitude is born from her understanding of the magnitude of what is unfolding through her. She demonstrates a humble willingness to be part of God’s grand narrative.
Similarly, Zechariah’s prophecy (Luke 1:68-79), after being rendered mute due to his initial disbelief, is a powerful expression of worship. When his speech is restored, his first act is to praise God, showing how worship realigns us with God’s promises and fosters a spirit of thankfulness, even after periods of doubt or silence.
Gratitude is not merely a feeling but an active posture. It involves acknowledging God’s greatness, mercy, and faithfulness, and should lead to a transformative peace that reshapes our perspective. In a world often focused on the temporal and material, this posture of gratitude rooted in divine worship offers a powerful counter-narrative, steering the human heart towards a deeper understanding of, and connection with, the architect of every good and perfect thing.
The Peace of the Presence Moves us to Joy
As children, for most of us, everything was better when our parents were around. They protected us, provided for us, and genuinely cared for us. I’ll never forget the day I found myself accidentally clinging to the wrong mom on the elevator at Macy’s when I was very young. Oh, the terror I felt and then immediate relief when I turned and found my mom. There is peace in the presence of powerful love.
In the Christmas story, we see this exemplified in the womb of Elizabeth—one of my favorite bible stories. When Mary, carrying Jesus, visits Elizabeth, John the Baptist leaps in Elizabeth’s womb (Luke 1:41) because he recognized how near Christ was. This leap, described by the Greek word “σκιρτάω” (skirtao) in the New Testament, signifies an instinctive reaction of joy at the presence of the Savior. The same word, interestingly, is used in the Septuagint to describe the struggle between Jacob and Esau in Rebecca’s womb (Genesis 25:22). This connection offers a profound theological contrast: Where once there was division and struggle in the womb of Rebecca, now there is unity and joy in Elizabeth’s womb, symbolizing the reconciliation brought by Christ.
John’s leap in Elizabeth’s womb reminds us that Christ’s presence transforms our reality, turning division into unity, and strife into joy. We too can claim this joy, and use it as a reconciling force against those that would instead divide.
Conclusion
One of my favorite Christmas songs is “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.” Not only do I love the prose of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (his version, “Christmas Bells”), but the story behind it is remarkable, and, you guessed it, it’s a war story. Written on Christmas day in 1863, it was the result of the outpouring of grief he experienced after the loss of his wife and after his son had been severely wounded in battle. When I hear the song, I intently feel the emotional climax in the middle stanza:
And in despair I bowed my head:
“There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“For hate is strong, and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.”
It can often feel like there is no peace on earth, but the story of the incarnation is richly permeated by it. It’s there for us to remember and there for us to be moved. As we’ve seen throughout the Gospel accounts, peace felt is peace half-realized. We are in a war, a war for ourselves and a war for our family, friends, and loved ones. In many ways, this war has already been won, and when Christ entered the world robed in flesh, he brought with him the peace of this certain outcome. The King of Kings had come, and with him, through his peace, we are moved to hopeful anticipation, enduring faithfulness, witness-bearing, gratitude, and joy. Therein lies a battle plan built on victory.
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men.”
- https://popularmilitary.com/christmas-miracle-wwii-proves-things-can-still-sacred-war/#:~:text=However%2C%20a%20smaller%20and%20lesser,boy%20who%20refused%20to%20forget ↩︎
- https://www.telegraph.co.uk/sport/football/teams/england/10455611/England-v-Germany-when-rivals-staged-beautiful-game-on-the-Somme.html ↩︎
- Isaiah 9:6 ↩︎
- https://www.spurgeon.org/resource-library/sermons/shoes-for-pilgrims-and-warriors/#flipbook/ ↩︎
