by Chara Gafford
“Prince of Peace.” The words are so familiar that they often glide past me. Their alliteration makes them easy to say and even easier to overlook. Yet when I pause long enough to consider them, I realize they are filled with astonishing promise and deep joy. Jesus is our Prince—and he is a Prince of peace.
A prince is one who holds authority by virtue of relationship. His authority is not earned through achievement, conquest, or political maneuvering; it flows naturally from being the child of a king. To say that Jesus is a prince is not to diminish his status in any way. Rather, it highlights something essential about his authority: it is integral to who he is. From eternity, Jesus is the Son. He did not become the Prince of Peace by winning battles or outmaneuvering rivals. He is the Prince.
Scripture also calls him “King of Kings” and “Lord of Lords,” titles that place him above every earthly power structure. There is no emperor, president, CEO, or influencer who stands outside his rule. Yet Isaiah chooses to name him “Prince of Peace”—a title that tells us not only that Jesus reigns, but how He reigns.
What Kind of Prince?
When Isaiah first proclaimed that the Messiah would be called the Prince of Peace, his listeners understood the weight of that declaration. Princes in the ancient world had real, tangible impacts on daily life. They led nations into war for political or territorial gain. They increased tax burdens, conscripted young men into battle, threw lavish banquets for themselves and their friends, and took what they wanted from society. In short, bad princes often did the same damage as bad kings.
Our world has not changed as much as we might like to think. We still live under the influence of “princes”—political leaders, corporate executives, social influencers, even family members—who wield authority over parts of our lives. Often, the opposite of a person of peace is someone who constantly stirs conflict: for personal gain, organizational success, national power, or sometimes simply for the drama. The resulting pain is always borne by someone else.
And if we are honest, we must also acknowledge that we ourselves are princes over certain realms of our lives. We have authority—in our homes, workplaces, relationships—and we do not always exercise that authority as princes of peace.
The Prince Who Brings Peace
Against this backdrop, the title “Prince of Peace” becomes all the more striking. Jesus reigns over all, yet he does not come stirring anger or exploiting fear. He comes to make peace—between humanity and the Father, and between people themselves.
Many expected the Messiah to arrive as a military leader, yet Jesus came without an army and was laid in a manger. He did not bring peace by crushing enemies but by forgiving them. He did not ask us to shoulder part of the moral burden while He handled the rest; he took the entire weight upon himself. By his life, death, and resurrection, he closed the gap between God and humanity completely. That is what his peace looks like. It is active and sacrificial.
Jesus does not inflame bitterness or resentment. Through both his teaching and his example, He shows us that his reign is marked by reconciliation, gentleness, and love—even toward those who consider themselves his enemies.
Peace in the Midst of Chaos
This truth feels especially important during Advent. Peace is not my typical experience around Christmas, even though it is something I long for deeply. In the hospitality industry, where I work, this season is unavoidably hectic. We often host events right up until December 23rd, and our team considers it a genuine blessing that we are not open on Christmas Day itself.
Beyond work, this season has carried its share of personal grief and stress, and I know many can relate. Even in years without specific hardships, the anticipation surrounding Christmas can lead to a quiet sense of letdown once the day arrives. Expectations are high, and reality rarely matches them.
That is why I find myself leaning into what it truly means that Jesus is the “Prince of Peace.”
Practicing Peace: Philippians 4
The Apostle Paul offers practical wisdom in Philippians 4:4–9. He does not suggest that peace comes from escaping trouble. Instead, peace comes from the nearness of God—the “God of peace” who is with us. Paul urges us to rejoice, to let our gentleness be evident, and to resist anxiety by bringing everything to God in prayer, with thanksgiving.
This peace, Paul says, “transcends all understanding” and guards our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. It does not deny chaos; it stands watch over us in the midst of it. As we train our minds to dwell on what is true, noble, right, pure, and lovely—and as we put these practices into action—the God of peace meets us there.
Letting God Be God
I am increasingly aware that I cannot manufacture joy or force peace into my life. I am not the Prince of Peace. He is. Advent invites us to let God be God—to stop striving for emotional perfection and instead rest in his rule.
That does not mean ignoring stress or minimizing pain. It means bringing those realities honestly before him. We obey his command not to be anxious by presenting our requests to him, trusting that his peace will do what we cannot.
This is the gift I need most this year—and every year. As we move through Advent, may we encourage one another to watch for the ways God brings his peace into our lives. And may we rejoice together, knowing that we are ruled, loved, and guarded by the Prince of Peace.