The Prince of Peace in a Season of Chaos

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you… Do not let your hearts be troubled.” — John 14:27

I lost my peace somewhere between the frozen food aisle and the checkout stand this weekend.

It wasn’t a major crisis. It was just the noise. The crowded aisles, the aggressive cart drivers, the endless list of things I still haven’t bought. Standing there, my heart wasn’t “troubled” by a great tragedy; it was being slowly strangled by a thousand minor annoyances.

I suspect I’m not the only one.

Actually, I saw it happen in real-time. A guy in the checkout lane next to me just snapped. He was yelling at the cashier over a price check, his face red, his hands shaking. It was ugly.

My first instinct was judgment: “Pull it together, man. It’s just a price check.”

But then the conviction hit me like a truck: That was almost me five minutes ago. Internally, I was screaming just as loud as he was. The only difference between his meltdown and my composure wasn’t superior character; it was that I had been studying John 14 all week.

I had to physically lean on that text like a crutch in the middle of the store. I had to remember that the “Peace on Earth” we talk about isn’t natural.

Jesus knew this. In John 14, He distinguishes between two kinds of peace.

There is the peace the world gives—which is really just a ceasefire. It’s that brief moment when the kids are asleep and the house is quiet and you think, “Finally.” But that peace is fragile. One phone call, one broken ornament, one credit card bill, and it’s gone.

Then there is His peace. “My peace I give you.”

This isn’t a feeling. It’s a garrison. The Greek word Paul uses elsewhere is military—it means to stand guard. Christ’s peace doesn’t promise a storm-free life; it promises a Captain in the boat who isn’t panicking.

The reason we are so stressed is that we are trying to carry the government of our lives on our own shoulders. But Isaiah 9 tells us the government shall be upon His shoulders.

I am slowly learning that I don’t need to hold it all together this week. I just need to hold onto Him.

The shift I’m trying to make: Today, when the anxiety creeps in (and I know it will), I’m trying to stop. instead of fighting it with logic, I’m trying to fight it with surrender.

This week, as you gather with loved ones and navigate the beautiful chaos of the season, remember that you don’t have to carry it all. Enjoy the noise, cherish the people, and let His peace be the gift you bring into the room.

Take a breath. He has us.

Stay Anchored.

humble