This week, according to the order of some Advent services, we celebrate peace.

Ironic, how non-peaceful the first Christmas was according to Scripture and history. Consider:

• An obsessed, paranoid, and cruel regional ruler stopping at nothing to protect his power.
• A larger empire mercilessly taxing even the poorest families within their realm.
• A young woman, and later her betrothed, sacrificing their reputations and risking their personal safety to fulfill a divine request their relatives and neighbors would doubt.
• A baby being born to a terrified, inexperienced mother in the middle of an overcrowded, unfamiliar town.
• A people longing continually (for centuries) to see their bitterness end and their freedom restored.

In light of all these and other non-peaceful factors, how can we celebrate peace when we think of what this season represents? Consider:

• A Father who painfully heard the cries of mourning mothers, and I would suggest deeply mourned with them, even as He ushered his own Son to temporary safety in a foreign land.
• A King who had compassion on the poor and sent His Son as a gift for every person in that empire and beyond, no matter how rich or poor the people were.
• A Sage who was supremely wise in His choice of earthly parents for His Son.
• A Provider who cleared a place for the virgin to give birth without complication – and who gave her the strength and courage to do so.
• A Giver who began to offer sweet living water and the breaking of infinite chains when His gift quietly slid into this dark world.

In moments of personal reflection, I am most thankful for two things. I thank God for the words of peace the angels spoke in the midst of man’s fear. And I’m equally thankful that this peace I celebrate is not dependent upon the absence of the bad, but instead is based on what (or Who) I hold onto in the midst of the bad.

That is the peace and gift wrapped up in infant skin.