It’s faint, in the distance, the group falls silent. How far, is hard to tell. Yet, it is distinct like the sound of one walking a trail in a thick forest. The sound brings with it a feeling, and it inspires the senses. A smell of pine in the air along with falls crisp morning. Even in the house one feels as if their very souls were as dew settling on the grass. It is both comforting and alarming. Sitting around the table a hush has fallen as they search each others eye’s and yet look past them. It’s hard to think about. It’s wonderful, yet it is also unknown. Silence is broken as one musters up the strength, in a quiet breath, just slightly above a whisper, “He’s coming.”
This is not a new scene. It has played out before. Once in a garden, once in a stable, and now. The feeling of what is to come has been here before and all along. He walked in the garden and we hid in our shame. Later, He was birthed in a stable covered in blood. Then a man He would hang on a tree, bloody, bearing no shame of His own but ours, willingly. He approaches again, to settle accounts, who has enough to pay the debt? No one. Yet, no one need pay anything. The debt has already been paid. Only receive it by faith through repentance. Time whispers, “He’s coming.”
As the foot steps grow louder, you can feel the earth shake with anticipation as it longs for restoration. Nature shifts, the waves roar, the storms rage, but man misses His approach, consumed by self, what must we do? Surely we must do something. Nature becomes humanities focus even while nature whispers, “He’s coming.”
The noise is deafening. It is hard to think clearly. Life consumes, the destroyer wages war on the soul of humanity, whom the destroyer hates, with distraction after distraction. The destroyer knows how, having studied the likeness of He who is coming, the destroyer lays out traps as only the destroyer can do. The destroyers time is running out, with every footstep heard, the noise doesn’t deaden the sound for the destroyer knows all too well his fate. The destroyer hesitant to acknowledge, whispers, “He’s coming.”
Most are unprepared. Many are without understanding. Lost in their perceived reality, devoid of the impending doom. Few have enough oil to get through the night. Night is coming. Do you have enough oil for your lamp? Go and buy oil without money. Put out the distractions from your mind. Sit in silence. Be still. Listen. Get ready. Every soul willingly or unwillingly, whispers, “He’s coming.”
He is coming.
You are loved,
cj
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