“From Unexpected Places to True Peace”

Scripture to Ponder: Micah 5:2

This past Lord’s Day, we took a closer look at how God often chooses humble, overlooked settings as the stage for His greatest works. We saw, that He selected a small village and a young, unassuming woman to begin the grand story of salvation. This theme reminds us that God’s hand frequently moves where the world least expects. As we look toward our next Sunday’s message, we’ll explore how this pattern—God’s glory shining through what seems ordinary—prepares us for something more profound: a peace so deep and lasting that it changes everything.

We know how God picked Bethlehem—hardly worth noting on any map—and Mary, a young girl of no worldly rank, to usher the Messiah into the human story. These choices were not accidents. They reveal a Lord who works through those who don’t have resumes or reputations to impress anyone. If the creator of the universe gladly works through overlooked people and places, what does that tell us about the kind of salvation He brings?

This question matters as we step into the next portion of our Advent journey. If the beginning of Christ’s arrival involved people and towns that seemed unimportant, then the rescue He provides might also have qualities we don’t immediately anticipate. We might expect a victory marked by thunderous power or dramatic displays, but God’s approach teaches us something different. The child born in Bethlehem doesn’t just bring a moment of relief or a short-lived comforting feeling. Instead, He introduces a profound, healing peace—a kind of wholeness we desperately need, he brings ‘Shalom’.

In our everyday thinking, “peace” often means simply the absence of trouble or the silencing of arguments. We assume that if nations sign the right papers or if we personally find a clever way to calm our nerves, we’ll achieve peace. But consider God’s pattern: He isn’t satisfied with half-measures. If His Son’s arrival involves unnoticed places and humble people, perhaps His peace also reaches much deeper than a mere pause in hostilities.

Think about that for a moment. The kind of peace Scripture describes—known by the Hebrew word shalom—is more than quietness. It’s a state where everything is set right, aligned with God’s good design. As we prepare for the sermon that will focus on this peace, give yourself a chance this week to reflect: is God only interested in fixing some circumstances, or is He aiming to heal the root problems in our relationship with Him and with each other?

If Bethlehem’s obscurity and Mary’s humility were the chosen tools for God’s grand entrance, then the salvation He brings must also address our deepest fractures. True peace must tackle the alienation between humanity and God, and from that restored bond, ripple outward to heal the rest of our lives. Just as God’s plan unfolded quietly and humbly, so does the peace He offers—often coming gently, yet powerfully, into the spaces we thought were too ordinary for divine attention.

You might be feeling a measure of chaos this week—perhaps a frantic schedule, strained family ties, or that nagging sense that something is amiss in your own heart. As we approach the Sunday service on The Peace We Desperately Need, ask yourself: have I settled for a shallow definition of peace? Have I only sought relief from surface-level stressors, ignoring the deeper need for God’s transforming grace?

Consider this: If the Lord chose people like Mary and places like Bethlehem, He can certainly step into your routine and your hidden struggles. The same God who wrote His story in quiet corners of history is fully capable of restoring shalom in your heart’s private corners.

This week, take a few moments in prayer or quiet reflection. Ask God to uncover where you might be patching up your problems with quick fixes rather than inviting His true, lasting peace. Let the humility and faith of Bethlehem and Mary encourage you: God has never been deterred by smallness or obscurity. Instead, He delights in showing up where nobody expects, bringing life and wholeness.

We anticipate that in the upcoming sermon, we’ll see that this humble beginning leads to a kind of peace unlike any the world can offer. The angels announced it not to kings in palaces, but to shepherds under a silent sky. Think about that: divine glory shining among ordinary folks who were just doing their jobs at night. If God met them there, He can meet you here, in your own ordinary day, in your modest hopes and quiet fears.

As Sunday approaches, let hope rise in you. The pattern God has established—using the overlooked to reveal His glory—signals that His peace will be equally surprising and profound. Trust that the Prince of Peace, who once lay in a manger in a humble town, can bring deep rest and reconciliation into your life this Advent season. Let this expectation shape your prayers and your reflections, knowing that real peace—true, profound shalom—is not just an idea. It’s a gift He longs for you to receive.