On Christmas morning in 1863, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow sat in his study, struggling to make sense of a world overcome with grief and conflict. The Civil War had plunged the nation into chaos, tearing families and communities apart. Longfellow felt the weight of that division in his own home: his son, Charles, lay recovering from a severe battlefield injury, and the poet himself was still reeling from the tragic death of his wife, Frances, two years earlier. Making the once-vibrant joy of Christmas feel distant, replaced by a profound sense of despair. As the church bells rang out that morning, their melody carried the familiar refrain: “Peace on earth, goodwill to men.” But to Longfellow, the words rang hollow. Looking out at his broken world, he penned his now-famous poem, “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day,” capturing the bitterness of his heart:

“And in despair he bowed my head;

‘There is no peace on earth,’ he said,

‘For hate is strong, and mocks the song

Of peace on earth, goodwill to men.’”

Longfellow’s lament was deeply personal, but it also reflected the broader turmoil of his time. It is a sentiment we can still relate to today. Since the early days of Covid, the words of his poem resonated amid the violence and uncertainty gripping our world. Wars still rage in Israel and Gaza, where centuries of tension have boiled over into devastating conflicts. In Ukraine, entire cities have been reduced to rubble, and millions live with the daily fear of missile strikes. Even closer to home, political division following elections has left our nation polarized and fractured. Longfellow’s despair could easily be our own: how can anyone find peace in such a broken world? Yet, as the bells continue to ring as they did on that Christmas morning, their unrelenting melody reminds us as it did for Longfellow of a truth more profound than his pain. Moved by the Holy Spirit he began to write:

“Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

‘God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,

With peace on earth, goodwill to men.’”

The bells declared an unshakable truth: God’s promises endure, even when peace seems unattainable. Longfellow realized that the peace proclaimed at Christmas is not tied to the world’s circumstances but is rooted in the presence of Christ, the Prince of Peace. Longfellow’s journey from despair to hope feels remarkably relevant today. The hate he lamented—the “mocking” of peace—echoes in our headlines. In Israel and Gaza, the cries of war drown out the promise of goodwill. In Ukraine, the specter of destruction looms large, leaving families displaced and communities shattered. Much like the Civil War of Longfellow’s time, these tragedies tempt us to believe that peace is an illusion, a hollow promise drowned by the weight of human conflict. But just as the bells called Longfellow to look beyond his circumstances, they call us to remember the deeper truth of Christmas. The angels who announced Christ’s birth did so during a time of political and social turmoil. The shepherds who first heard the words, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men” (Luke 2:14) lived under Roman occupation, a time marked by oppression and uncertainty. Yet the peace they proclaimed was not tied to the Roman Empire or earthly rulers—it was tied to the arrival of the Savior. Similarly, the peace we long for in Gaza, Ukraine, and worldwide cannot come from human efforts alone. It comes from the One who promised, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” (John 14:27)

Horatio Spafford: Finding Peace Amid Personal Loss

The journey from despair to hope is seen in Longfellow’s story and that of Horatio Spafford, who faced unimaginable tragedy and yet found peace in Christ. In 1873, Spafford’s wife, Anna, and their four daughters boarded a ship to Europe. While crossing the Atlantic, the vessel collided with another and sank. Only Anna survived. Spafford received a haunting telegram: “Saved alone.” As Spafford traveled to meet his grieving wife, the captain of his ship paused to show him the spot where his daughters had drowned. It was in that moment of profound sorrow that Spafford penned the hymn, “It Is Well with My Soul.”

 “When peace like a river attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll,

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,

It is well, it is well with my soul.”

Spafford’s hymn reflects the same truth Longfellow discovered: peace is not the absence of sorrow or conflict but the presence of Christ during it. As Paul writes in Philippians 4:7, “And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Both Longfellow and Spafford remind us that the hope of Christmas is not found in our world’s stability but in our God’s faithfulness. The first Christmas was not a time of peace by worldly standards. Mary and Joseph, fleeing oppression and rejection, found refuge in a stable. It was there, in the humblest of settings, that Christ was born—the Savior who would bring peace not just for a moment but for all eternity. The message of Christmas is that God’s peace is unshaken, even when the world seems to crumble around us. Isaiah 9:6 proclaims: “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” This peace does not ignore the pain of our world but meets it head-on. It is the peace that led Longfellow to write, “God is not dead, nor doth He sleep,” and the peace that allowed Spafford to declare, “It is well with my soul.” It is the peace we long for in Gaza, Israel, Ukraine, and in the hearts of all who are weary.

A Call to Hope: As we celebrate Christmas this year, we may feel overwhelmed by the weight of our world’s troubles. Yet the message of Christ remains the same: peace has come, and it is found in Him. Though hate may be strong, the wrong shall fail, and the right shall prevail. Wars will cease, nations will heal, and every tear will be wiped away when Christ’s kingdom is fully realized. Until that day, we hold fast to the promise of Romans 8:38-39: “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Let the bells of Christmas ring louder than the cries of conflict. Let the carols remind us of the One who brings beauty from ashes and joy from mourning. And let us, like Longfellow