On Christmas Eve we light the Christ candle, the center of our Advent wreath. By recovering Advent’s light, we return to Jesus himself—the one whose birth, life, and cross revealed what God’s reign truly looks like. In Christ, divine power entered the world through vulnerability; divine justice arrived through mercy. His coming was—and remains—God’s peacebuilding revolution: nonviolent, enemy-loving, and world-renewing.

In much of modern Christianity, love has become a sentimental feeling of warmth toward family, affection toward God, or admiration toward others. But biblical love is not an emotion; it is a revolution of relationship. It names God’s self-giving solidarity with a wounded world. It is the choice to draw near when fear pushes us toward distance.

Every Advent, the third candle burns for joy. Yet this word, like “hope” and “peace,” has been emptied of its full power. In much of modern faith, joy has become a synonym for positivity—the demand to keep spirits high, to smile through discomfort, to make worship cheerful even when the world is not. But the joy of scripture arises from trust that God’s future is breaking into the present.

Every Advent, the second candle flickers for peace. Yet like hope, this word has grown soft in the Christian imagination. “Peace” has come to mean inner calm, social quiet, or the absence of visible conflict. But throughout Scripture, peace is not just the absence of conflict, but the presence of justice. The Bible’s peace—shalom—names the wholeness of creation restored, the healing of injustice, the reconciliation of enemies, and the overthrow of every false order built on domination and control.

Advent begins this Sunday, and this week's Advent theme is HOPE. Today, hope often sounds like wishful thinking. We use the word to describe personal aspirations, feelings, or a positive outlook. But biblical hope is not optimism. It's born in the midst of despair—in exile, under empire, among people who have every reason to give up.

At Peace Catalyst International, we believe that peace is not just an ideal—it’s a way of life, a calling, and a daily practice rooted in God’s mission to heal the world. That’s why we’re thrilled to announce our partnership with St. Stephen’s University (SSU)—a graduate school of theology, peace, and reconciliation located in New Brunswick, Canada. This partnership represents an exciting step forward in the formation of a broader ecosystem of peace theology, peace education, and peacemaking practice.

The word “gauze” likely traces its origins to the Arabic ghazz or gazzā, referring to Gaza—a city once renowned as a center of textile production and trade in the medieval world. For centuries, Gaza’s artisans wove fine fabrics exported across the Mediterranean and the Islamic world. Over time, the term “gauze” became synonymous with loosely woven fabric, eventually becoming indispensable in medicine—used to bind wounds and stem bleeding.

How can Christ’s teaching of neighbor-love — when taken seriously — offer a path toward a just, flourishing, and reconciled future? Watch our conversation with author and peacemaker Andrew DeCort to discuss his book, Reviving the Golden Rule: How the Ancient Ethic of Neighbor Love Can Heal the World. We explore the roots of this ancient yet essential teaching, reflect on examples of how Christians have lived this out in powerful ways, and discuss how Christians today can meaningfully model neighbor-love in our relationships, communities, and politics.

I’ve written these words not as a creed, but as a compass. For years I’ve watched the language of “peace” get hijacked—used to justify silence, to avoid discomfort, to flatten stories of injustice. Inspired by those who refuse silence, this oath is for all who choose peace with justice.