When the World Had No Word for What They Saw

The Christmas carol plays softly in the background: “Peace on earth, good will to men.” We’ve sung it a thousand times. We’ve written it on cards, stitched it on decorations, and repeated it like a mantra every December.

But if we’re honest, doesn’t it feel a little hollow this year?

Political tribalism tears families apart at the dinner table. Racial tensions never seem to heal. Social media echo chambers make it impossible to agree on basic facts. Christians can barely stand to be in the same room with other Christians over secondary issues. And we’re supposed to believe in peace on earth?

In 1863, the poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow asked the same question. As the Civil War raged and his country tore itself apart, as he mourned his wife’s horrific death and tended to his wounded son, he penned the words to “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.” In despair, he wrote: “There is no peace on earth, I said, for hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Was the angelic proclamation at Christ’s birth just beautiful poetry? Or can the promise actually be kept?

The City Where Enemies Became Family

The answer is found in an unlikely place: a bustling Roman city called Antioch, decades after Christ’s resurrection.

Acts 11 takes us back to the aftermath of Stephen’s martyrdom, when persecution scattered believers throughout the Roman Empire. Most of these early Christians did what made sense—they preached to Jews only. Stay with your people. Keep it safe. Don’t rock the boat.

But some believers from Cyprus and Cyrene did something radical. They began speaking to Greeks also, preaching the Lord Jesus. And Acts 11:21 tells us something astonishing: “The hand of the Lord was with them, and a large number who believed turned to the Lord.”

This wasn’t just intellectual assent. These people—Jews and Greeks who had every reason to hate each other—were turning to the Lord together. They were worshiping together. Living together. Becoming something the world had never seen before.

The news spread fast. So fast that the church in Jerusalem sent Barnabas on a 300-mile journey to investigate what was happening in Antioch.

Grace That Could Be Witnessed

Here’s what I love about Acts 11:23—when Barnabas arrived, he “witnessed the grace of God.”

Not felt it. Not heard about it. He could actually see it.

I’ve only experienced this a handful of times in my life. Once was in Ethiopia, visiting a tribe that just years earlier had settled their conflicts by hacking each other to death with machetes. But the gospel had come. Lives had changed. And when I arrived, I didn’t encounter violence—I encountered joy unlike anything I’d ever seen. Former enemies praying for me. Worshiping with me. Receiving me as family.

That’s what Barnabas saw in Antioch. The grace of God wasn’t just a theological concept—it was visible in the transformed lives of people who should have been enemies but had become family.

And the world noticed.

A Name for Something Never Seen Before

Acts 11:26 drops this detail almost casually: “The disciples were first called Christians in Antioch.”

We take that word for granted. But this was the moment it was invented. Up until this point, followers of Jesus were viewed as just another sect of Judaism—like the Pharisees or Sadducees, but with some different beliefs about the Messiah.

But in Antioch, something was so radically different that outsiders looked at this movement and said, “We need a new word for this.”

They didn’t call themselves Christians. The world named them that. The world looked at their worship of Christ, their commitment to the apostolic teaching, their fellowship across impossible cultural barriers, their sacrificial love for one another, and said: “You people belong to Christ. You’re Christians.”

I wonder what the world would call us today if we didn’t identify ourselves.

Peace That Goes Deeper Than Politics

Here’s where the story gets even more beautiful. Acts 11:27-30 tells us that when the prophet Agabus warned of a coming famine in Judea, the believers in Antioch—including all those Greek converts—immediately took up a collection to send relief to the Jewish believers in Jerusalem.

Think about the historical context. Earlier in this same chapter, some in Jerusalem were questioning whether Gentiles should even be included in the church. There was suspicion. There was debate. There was a wall of hostility.

But now? Now when Greek believers hear that Jewish believers are in trouble, their response isn’t “let them worry about themselves.” Their response is radical generosity. Sacrificial love. Family caring for family.

This wasn’t tribal loyalty. This was the family of God in action. And the watching world couldn’t ignore it.

Peace on earth isn’t found in political compromise or coexist bumper stickers. It’s not found in pretending our differences don’t matter or avoiding difficult conversations. Peace on earth is found where Christ is proclaimed as Lord. That’s the only place enemies can become family.

When a Son Embraces His Father’s Killer

The most powerful modern example I’ve ever encountered of this kind of reconciliation came through a testimony I heard in 2006 at a youth conference.

Steve Saint and a man named Minkaya stood on stage together, sharing their story. In 1956, Steve’s father Nate Saint—a missionary pilot—and four other missionaries went to reach the Waodani tribe in Ecuador with the gospel. The Waodani were known as the most violent people on earth. They didn’t even have a word for peace in their language.

Minkaya was one of the warriors who speared those missionaries to death. He personally killed Nate Saint.

That should be the end of the story. Permanent division. Understandable hatred. Justifiable revenge.

But representatives of the martyred missionaries—including Nate’s sister Rachel and Jim Elliot’s widow Elisabeth—went back to that tribe. They learned the language. They told them about Christ. And Minkaya believed.

More than that, Minkaya adopted Steve into his family. The son embraced his father’s killer not just with forgiveness, but as family. As a grandfather.

When a reporter told Steve, “I could understand forgiveness, but this is almost morbid,” Steve responded: “It doesn’t make sense unless you put God in the equation.”

That’s what the lordship of Christ can really look like. Not just overcoming worship style preferences or political differences, but a son embracing his father’s killer as family because Christ is Lord over death itself.

What Does the World See When They Look at Us?

Back to Longfellow’s poem. He didn’t end in despair. As he sat mourning on Christmas Day 1863, he heard the bells ringing, and they cut through his pain:

“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, good will to men.”

God is not dead, and He is not asleep. The promise of peace on earth is real—but you won’t find it if you don’t look in the right place.

The Apostle Paul, who ministered in Antioch and saw this unity firsthand, later wrote in Ephesians 2:14-16: “For He Himself is our peace, who made both groups into one and broke down the barrier of the dividing wall… so that in Himself He might make the two into one new man, thus establishing peace.”

Jesus Christ IS our peace. In Him, believers can lay down our agendas and put that peace into practice.

What Would They Call You?

If the world couldn’t see your church sign or hear you identify as Christians, what would they name you based solely on what they observe?

Where Are the Walls?

What walls of hostility still stand in your life that Christ’s lordship should tear down? Political? Racial? Economic? Generational?

Is Grace Visible?

Could someone walk into your church, your small group, your family and actually witness the grace of God at work the way Barnabas did in Antioch?

What Will 2026 Look Like?

As we head into a new year, will you commit to living in such a way that the watching world sees Christ in you—not just hears your doctrine, but sees your love in action?

The Gift Too Good to Keep Confined to December

The church at Antioch made the angels’ promise real. Peace on earth. Good news for all people. They didn’t just talk about unity—they lived it so radically that their sacrificial love became visible proof of Christ’s transforming power.

The church’s united proclamation reveals Christ’s lordship to a watching world. It’s not about our programs or our buildings or our cultural influence. What the world needs to see is only what the grace of God can do—when people who have every human reason to stay divided become united under the lordship of Jesus Christ.

They saw it in Antioch. They gave them a new name because they’d never seen anything like it.

They can see it in us too. Because of grace. Because Jesus Christ truly is Himself our peace.

That’s the good news of great joy for all people. And it’s too good to keep confined to the month of December.

Listen to the full sermon here: Antioch – Acts 11:19-30

Preached December 21, 2025 at Howell Bible Church