The Gift of Peace

The world is constantly moving fast. You know it too. My mind moves even faster. There’s always something—ministry, deadlines, friends, expectations, noise. Everything feels loud even to my Deaf ears. And when the Christmas season comes around, all of it seems to get louder.

And honestly, it’s hard to find peace these days. Not just because the world is broken, but because sometimes my own heart feels that way too.

I think when we read Isaiah 9:6, it should stop us in our tracks, though. It stops me—maybe it stops you too. Prince of Peace. Just saying that slows my heart a little. Peace isn’t something we have to chase. Peace has a name. Peace is a person. Peace was born for you and me.

When Isaiah wrote those words, Israel was living in darkness. They were tired of waiting, tired of wondering if God still saw them. Yet He promised a Savior who would carry the weight of the world on His shoulders, not ours.

Then, hundreds of years later, that promise came true. A baby was born in Bethlehem. The most unexpected gift. The most unexpected way for peace to enter the world. Heaven came down—quietly, humbly.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I expect peace to come when I finally get things under control. When the to-do list is done, when life calms down, when everything finally makes sense, but that’s not how peace works. Jesus didn’t wait for the world to calm down before He came. He entered right into the chaos. He still does. It’s His way.

A few months ago, I felt completely overwhelmed. Leading, serving, trying to meet needs while running on empty. I remember one night sitting alone in my office after everyone had gone home. The lights were low. The background music on the TV was the only sound. And I just sat there. Tired.

I opened my Bible and began to read Isaiah 9:6 again. I’d read it before, but that night it felt different. “The government will be on His shoulders.” Pause and read that again. Slowly. Now read it again.

I just sat there and thought, God, I’ve been carrying too much.

It was like He whispered back, Brandon, peace doesn’t come when you carry it all. It comes when you let Me carry you.

That night didn’t fix everything, but it changed something in me. Peace isn’t about less responsibility or fewer storms. It’s about trusting the One who’s in control of both.

Maybe you feel that same pull this Christmas—wanting joy, but feeling the weight of the world. Maybe things at home aren’t easy. Maybe your mind won’t slow down. Or perhaps you’re just tired.

Here’s the truth: peace isn’t a mood. It’s a miracle. Jesus didn’t come to give us a temporary calm; He came to give us Himself. His presence is steady, unwavering, even when life isn’t.

If you’ve ever felt that deep quiet after chaos—that stillness where you just know God’s still here—that’s what He’s offering again this Christmas.

So how do we unwrap peace?

It’s not by doing more. And it’s definitely not by trying harder.

We unwrap it when we pause. When we breathe. When we say, Jesus, I need You here.

When we open our hands, when we let go of control—that’s when we make room for the Prince of Peace to do what only He can do. Settle our hearts. Reorder our thoughts. Remind us we’re not alone.

This Christmas, I want to challenge you—and myself—to find one quiet moment. Maybe early in the morning, before the noise, maybe late at night when everything’s still. Sit in His presence. No checklist. No agenda. Just stillness.

Because peace doesn’t show up in our striving, it comes in the whisper of His presence.

The same Child who brought peace to the shepherd field is the same Savior who brings peace to your soul today.

And I’m praying—truly praying—that you’ll feel that peace again this Christmas.

This devotional was written by Brandon Gaskin, the Minister of First Dallas Deaf.

Two Questions for Thought:

1. What’s one thing you’ve been trying to carry that Jesus is asking you to let go of?
2. How can you make space for peace—real peace—this Christmas season?

Daily Challenge:

Today, take 10 minutes to sit quietly with God—no phone, no music, and no distractions—and thank Him for being your peace.