Week 3: Joy
The Invitation of the Living Church in Bethlehem
Bethlehem Is Not a Storybook: An Advent Journey Toward Peace
“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” Luke 1:46–47
The Invitation of the Living Church in Bethlehem
We often feel a tender ache when we read that Mary and Joseph were turned away from the inn. A young mother about to give birth, a weary father doing all he can to provide shelter. It stirs something deep in us. They found refuge not in comfort but in a cave, surrounded by animals and hay, giving birth to the Prince of Peace in humility and vulnerability. And yet even there, joy broke in, the joy of being seen by God.
He saw their journey, their exhaustion, their courage and heaven responded. A star marked the spot. Angels filled the sky with music. And shepherds were told to come and see.
That invitation echoes through the ages.
“Come and see,” say the Palestinian Christians of today.
Come and see the land of the Nativity.
Come and see the Living Stones.
Come and see how faith endures even under occupation.
Come and see what it means to follow Jesus where He was born and where His teachings still take root.
Come and see what joy looks like when it survives the night.
Not Choosing Sides: Choosing to Show Up
This is not about taking sides in a political war. It’s about choosing to see. About stepping across thresholds that others want to keep closed.
When we accept the invitation to “come and see,” we step into solidarity, not to solve, but to witness; not to argue, but to learn. Like the shepherds who left their flocks to behold the newborn Messiah, or the Magi who crossed empires searching for the hope of the world, we are being summoned, not just to remember Bethlehem, but to meet Christ again in His people.
“We Are Still Here”: The Witness of the Church
When Western pilgrims arrive in Bethlehem, what surprises them most is not the ancient stones but the living ones: the people who still gather, worship, and serve in the land of Jesus’ birth.
People like Shireen Awwad Hilal, a humanitarian, educator, and peacebuilder who lives in Bethlehem with her family.
Shireen works with the Shepherd Society, the social outreach arm of Bethlehem Bible College. Her days are spent offering food, medical care, and microloans to those in need. In the wake of devastation in Gaza, the Shepherd Society expanded its aid even further offering hope where governments failed.
But Shireen’s story isn’t just about her work. It’s also deeply personal.
On October 18th, her family church in Gaza was bombed. Her uncle, an engineer, and her aunt, a school principal, were killed. Another aunt, injured so severely she required a hip replacement and underwent surgery without anesthesia.
Shireen’s voice breaks when she tells this story,not in anger, but in sorrow and compassion. Despite this, she clings to the path of peace.
“My daughter is in Montana now,” she shares. “When she told people her family was in Gaza, they laughed. They said the photos were fake. A teacher told students she was spreading lies, even called her a Hamas supporter. Then my family died. Then they began to believe.”
And yet still, Shireen teaches peace. Still, she stays rooted in Bethlehem. She carries joy like a quiet flame, not happiness, but the strength to keep loving. She embodies what it means to forgive seventy times seven, to love enemies, to live the Sermon on the Mount in flesh and blood.
An Invitation from the Church of the Beatitudes
Shireen is not alone. In Nazareth, Pastor Yohanna Katanacho opens his Bible and teaches the Abrahamic Covenant, not as a weapon to divide people, but as a promise that invites all nations to bless and be blessed. At the Church of the Beatitudes, Palestinian Christian teachers guide visitors through Jesus’ words, line by line:
Blessed are the peacemakers. Love your enemies. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.
These aren’t slogans in the Holy Land. They are survival.
To live them under occupation, under the threat of checkpoints, house demolitions, travel restrictions, and bombs, that is discipleship. That is what the Western Church must come and learn. That is the joy of faith that endures when fear should have won.
Ministries of Mercy, Peacemaking, and Hope
In Bethlehem and its surrounding towns, you’ll find ministries like ANAR, where children traumatized by war receive counseling and play therapy. You’ll find the Shepherd Society helping families without homes or food. You’ll find women’s collectives teaching the ancient art of embroidery as a form of resistance and livelihood. You’ll find cooks teaching guests to make maqloubeh and musakhan, not just to nourish the body, but to preserve a culture under threat.
These ministries are not just charity. They are witness. They say:
We are still here.
We have not returned evil for evil.
We still believe in the Prince of Peace.
Their joy is their resistance, the joy of refusing to let hate define them.
Who Is Herod Today?
But as in the original Nativity story, Herod is never far away. Back then, Herod tried to silence hope with violence. Today, bulldozers demolish homes, walls carve up communities, and drones strike neighborhoods.
Modern-day Herods justify these acts with fear, but the result remains: suffering, displacement, death. Herod feared a child because he represented a different kind of kingdom, one not built on swords, but on love. On a different kind of power, the kind that kneels, heals, and walks alongside the hurting.
The question remains: Will we recognize this kingdom? Or will we, like Herod, cling to the illusion of control?
Come and See: An Invitation to Discipleship
The invitation to Bethlehem is not to rubberneck warzones or to collect spiritual souvenirs. It is an invitation to follow.
To learn from people who still love where it’s hard. To pray in Arabic with those who have every reason to give up, and haven’t. To understand the Gospel not as a Western export but as a radical truth born in the margins.
Palestinian Christians are not asking us to fix their problems. They’re asking us to come and see the truth. To walk with them as they walk with Christ.
You are invited. Come and see. Come and share their joy, the joy that is born in faithfulness, sustained by love, and multiplied in peace.
An excerpt from the book, “Bethlehem is not a Storybook, Learning to Listen: A Journey Toward Peace” by Lani Lanchester to be published in 2026.
Advent Practices (Do one today)
- Practice Joy as Solidarity. Reach out to someone carrying grief or isolation. Bring a meal, write a letter, or simply sit and listen. Joy grows when it is shared.
- Sing Anyway. Play or sing a song of joy, even if your heart feels heavy. Let your voice become prayer for those who still sing under oppression. Joy is defiance against despair.
- Support Joy in Bethlehem. Give to ministries that create beauty and resilience like the Shepherd Society, ANAR, or Dar al-Kalima University, where joy takes the shape of art, mercy, and peace.
- Come and See. Reach out to Palestinian Christians through Facebook, Instagram, or their ministry websites. Learn their stories. Pray for their communities. If you can, consider joining a tour or pilgrimage led by Palestinian Christian guides and ministries, those who live the Gospel where it began. They invite you not as tourists, but as guests, to receive their hospitality, share in their kindness, and discover the joy of faith that endures.
Advent Discussion Questions
- Joy as Resistance. In what ways do you see joy as a form of resistance in the story of Mary, the shepherds, and the living church in Bethlehem today? How might choosing joy, instead of cynicism or despair, be a spiritual act of courage in your own life?
- Joy as Solidarity. The invitation to “come and see” calls us not to take sides, but to show up and listen. Where might God be inviting you to “come and see” today to draw near to someone’s suffering or story and find joy through presence rather than distance?
- Joy as Discipleship. The Christians of Bethlehem embody joy through steadfast faith, art, and mercy under pressure. What might it look like for you or your community to practice that same kind of joy, creative, grounded, and sustaining, in your own context this Advent?
