Peace on Earth in Midst of Strife

On Christmas Day, 1863, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow sat down and wrote a poem.

It was the very height of the American Civil War. Only a month prior his son had been severely wounded in the Battle of New Hope Church. Two years before, his beloved wife had died in a household accident, the grief of which was so intense that it nearly broke his mind. In the midst of that turmoil of darkness and sorrow, he wrote the following (the whole poem is too long to repeat here, but is well worth reading in its entirety):

“I heard the bells on Christmas Day,
Their old familiar carols play
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on Earth good-will to men!

“And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

…

“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.

“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.”

There seems little need to delve into the myriad of examples of how our own situation parallels that of Longfellow, and how applicable the line “hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on Earth, good will to men” is to the present. You know them as well as I do, and there are plenty of other places to read about that sort of thing.

Besides which, I’d rather take our attention off of the kind of national events that get into newspapers.

In truth, if you’re seeking reasons to lament the apparent failure of the angelic promise of Christmas there is no need to go to a Civil War or a natural disaster or…whatever you would call the events of 2020.

Loneliness, disappointment, and depression will do just as well or better for most of us. Sure things are bad on a global level, but what is that to the fact that maybe we’ve just lost a job, are mourning the death of a loved one, or ended yet another year still single?

Yet every year, amidst whatever personal or historical sufferings or disasters that confront us, we receive that same message from on high: “Fear not, for I bring you good tidings of great joy.”

Those good tidings are not of the immediate end of war, or of the restoration of basic sanity to our civilization. They aren’t even of personal happiness and success, the promise of a better year to come.

They are, “this day is born to you a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord.”

We know, for we are told, that this is good news.

But what does it mean here and now? It clearly doesn’t mean ‘peace on earth,’ at least not in the sense we would expect, for wars and strife still torment us.

Yes, but it means that these things shall not have the final word. Our existence is not limited to this world. For God has come to establish His Kingdom upon earth; a kingdom not of this world. To be of that kingdom is to be in right relation to the cause and center of our being. And God has provided us the means to do this through His son, who is born to us on Christmas day.

That is the peace on Earth that angels proclaimed, and that is the great joy of Christmas; the peace of being in union with God, and the joy of knowing that He has come among us. This is a peace and joy that can and has endured amid the most savage worldly turmoil and most devastating personal tragedies.

Hence the joy of Christmas, the reason why songs of celebration are uplifted every year on this day even from battlefield trenches and terminal wards.

And if that is not sufficiently comforting, then here is something else.

On that first Christmas, remember, no one in the vast Roman Empire knew of those good tidings of great joy, save for a handful of shepherds. No one knew that the world had changed and the position of the human race had been fundamentally altered for the better. No one knew that the fumbling efforts of paganism were about to be replaced by the real thing. The turn happened quietly, uneventfully, right where no one could see it.

In the same way, it might well be that our own time of darkness—whether nationally or personally—may be drawing to its end. It may well be that, even now, the tide is turning beneath us, and events are taking place outside of our knowledge that will change things forever.

To be specific to our own purposes, it may be that even now that particular person is contemplating making a profile, or is starting down the train of thought that will lead her to the site, or that you yourself are beginning to undergo the shift in perspective or habit that will bring her to your attention.

We don’t know. Predicting the future is either a fool’s or a villain’s game; there are simply too many factors involved that we cannot even be aware of, let alone take into account. But we may rest assured that God knows and that He is at work, preparing the ground to His own purpose.

That too is the joy of Christmas; the joy of knowing that God is at work in the world, and thus we need never despair, however, dark things may look. He “is not dead, nor doth He sleep.” Or, as a far greater poet than Longfellow put it, speaking on the same theme, “Be still and see that I am God.”