The Promise
Author: Bonnie - Atlanta
Category: Creatives
Publish Date: Jan 22, 2011
Views: 14970
I heard the promise. I heard it, but I still do not see it. Again and again I hear them say, Hes coming. The messiah is coming. You will see him where is he? When is he coming? Will I really see him?
Days have passed now. The days turned into months, the months into years, and the years into generations. Still I wait. I wait for my deliverance. I wait for my messiah.
No one wants to see me; everyone refuses to look at me. My soul cries out from within to deliver me, to at least try to listen. But of course no one hears, no one is willing.
I remember the words spoken of long ago do not worry. Hes coming. The Messiah is coming. He will deliver My heart grows faint within me as I Search, as I desire for deliverance, as I desire for 1the Messiahs arrival.
Then one day. I see him. Coming towards me. With no beauty, nothing to attract him, nothing in his appearance for me to desire him. He was simple. He is the carpenters son, I hear, from Nazareth. This, this man, this simple unattra ctive man, he could not be the messiah. He could not be my deliverer. He was no one.
So I lowered my head in shame, hoping to hide my face from him. He was not impo rtant, he was nobody. I hear the footsteps come closer and closer, I dare not look up, and I dare not show my shame to the world.
I see his feet before me, feet that have been blistered from much travel. My daughter, I hear him say. Surely he is not talking to me, does he not know who I am? Does he not know my past? My Sin? My Shame? My daughter he calls out once more. Could he really be talking to me? Would he dare be seen with me in public? No, not it is only to mock me. He would not understand, he would not know. Cupping my chin, lifting my face he calls out to me again My daughter. I look in to his eyes, and I feel a glimmer of hope I my heart. His eyes tell me, to believe, believe that He is able. These eyes dare me to trust, to believe. Oh could it be true? Did the messiah really come for me? Did he really come to deliver me? Should I trust him? Should I believe?
Letting my guard, giving up the little I had, I trusted him. I leaned on him; I gave it all to him. With a gentle smile, and a firm command, I was set free. My Chains were gone, my shame disappeared, and my fear vanished. I was free.
And then I knew. I Knew I had seen Him. The Messiah. He did not come with great riches, or even strength. He did not come with an army, or with power. He came as a nobody, to save everybody. He came as a simple man, to save the simple minded. He came to me. He came to me, not with majesty but with simplicity. Not with questions, but with answers. Not with anger, but full of love. My majesty had come. My Promise, my only hope, had been fulfilled. I heard, but now I saw the majesty. The Promised one.
Days have passed now. The days turned into months, the months into years, and the years into generations. Still I wait. I wait for my deliverance. I wait for my messiah.
No one wants to see me; everyone refuses to look at me. My soul cries out from within to deliver me, to at least try to listen. But of course no one hears, no one is willing.
I remember the words spoken of long ago do not worry. Hes coming. The Messiah is coming. He will deliver My heart grows faint within me as I Search, as I desire for deliverance, as I desire for 1the Messiahs arrival.
Then one day. I see him. Coming towards me. With no beauty, nothing to attract him, nothing in his appearance for me to desire him. He was simple. He is the carpenters son, I hear, from Nazareth. This, this man, this simple unattra ctive man, he could not be the messiah. He could not be my deliverer. He was no one.
So I lowered my head in shame, hoping to hide my face from him. He was not impo rtant, he was nobody. I hear the footsteps come closer and closer, I dare not look up, and I dare not show my shame to the world.
I see his feet before me, feet that have been blistered from much travel. My daughter, I hear him say. Surely he is not talking to me, does he not know who I am? Does he not know my past? My Sin? My Shame? My daughter he calls out once more. Could he really be talking to me? Would he dare be seen with me in public? No, not it is only to mock me. He would not understand, he would not know. Cupping my chin, lifting my face he calls out to me again My daughter. I look in to his eyes, and I feel a glimmer of hope I my heart. His eyes tell me, to believe, believe that He is able. These eyes dare me to trust, to believe. Oh could it be true? Did the messiah really come for me? Did he really come to deliver me? Should I trust him? Should I believe?
Letting my guard, giving up the little I had, I trusted him. I leaned on him; I gave it all to him. With a gentle smile, and a firm command, I was set free. My Chains were gone, my shame disappeared, and my fear vanished. I was free.
And then I knew. I Knew I had seen Him. The Messiah. He did not come with great riches, or even strength. He did not come with an army, or with power. He came as a nobody, to save everybody. He came as a simple man, to save the simple minded. He came to me. He came to me, not with majesty but with simplicity. Not with questions, but with answers. Not with anger, but full of love. My majesty had come. My Promise, my only hope, had been fulfilled. I heard, but now I saw the majesty. The Promised one.
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