The quiet land laid desolate. Cursed by the curse of righteousness unknown, ancient Israel's hope suffocated under the draping of imperial robes. Their ears were filled with Heaven's silence of four hundred vacant years. That's ten generations of straining and waiting. Just one word or maybe two of the promised king would suffice, but the most they got was nothing. The land was filled with empty scrolls and silent prophets.Still they waited, salvation their only hope.
Subtly stalking in the shadowy souls of men lurked an oppression more deadly than Rome.
The poisonous lullaby of an age old Enemy gently laced their hearts with dark deep slumber. The quiet earth was lulled fast asleep.
An unsung birth broke under crudely hewn gables. By the notice of stars and angels Righteousness emerged from eternity to spend his first night in a manger. The voice of Heaven finally spoke into the deafening silence! The curse was lifted; Righteousness arrived to be known! But despite the waiting, only few were listening.
Unknown birth, how could this be? Not our king, no, not he!
Sleep blinded eyes but whitewashed over, they heralded the Christ with scoff, scorn and hatred. How could this be the promised One? Adorned with crown thorns and nailed to a tree Jesus faced the Father's just wrath over mankind's sin and satisfied it for all eternity.
Fifty generations later and little has changed. No real righteousness, none good not one. The same wicked lullaby coats our hearts with sleepy pride and calloused good works. Who needs a savior? I'm good enough! We refuse to accept we do not suffice, for if that's the case we lose our autonomy. I long to be God; I covet his control. Alas, through stubborn trial by error I've proven over and again I make the worst idol.
Wake up, sleepy earth! Shake off your slumber! Or rather. Holy Spirit, do for us what we cannot do for ourselves. Unstop our ears. Soften our hearts. Show us the Christ. Speak loudly and gently, whisper shouts of truth until we cannot but hear.
Rejoice and recognize. Emmanuel has come; God is among us.
He is coming once more. This time let's be watching and waiting.
welcome Audrey DeFord is an artist, illustrator, wife, momma, believer. But not in that order. She currently resides in Texas with her husband Sam, baby girl Flora, French bully Shortstack, & 12