Oh Lord… I’ve lived through many seasons but I remember the first whispers. Not mine… the ancient ones. The ones spoken before my bones were formed, when the world was still learning how to hope.
I remember the garden, though I never saw it. A promise whispered through the leaves “The Seed of the woman will crush the serpent’s head” (Genesis 3:15). Even then, You were coming.
Through Abraham’s laughter and Isaac’s altar, through Joseph’s dreams and Moses’ fire, You were threading salvation into our story. And we didn’t always see it but You were always there.
I remember Isaiah’s trembling words “Unto us a Child is born… and the government shall be upon His shoulder” (Isaiah 9:6). I remember David’s voice breaking in song “The Lord said to my Lord…” (Psalm 110:1) and “You will not let Your Holy One see decay” (Psalm 16:10).
We waited, Lord. We waited long.
And then there was a cry in Bethlehem. A manger rocked with glory. And I wasn’t there, but the earth changed that night.
You came. Not with armies. Not with fire. But with skin and breath and tears.
You touched lepers. You walked into storms. You turned water to wine and sinners to saints.
And they hailed You with palm branches once… but oh, how quickly we forget.
They called You King then called for a cross. They sang hosanna then shouted “Crucify.” And still, You came closer.
The veil tore. The tomb broke. And everything we were waiting for stood outside the grave, breathing again.
You came. And You are coming still.
I’ve watched time bend under Your name. I’ve seen kingdoms rise and fall. I’ve watched empires write their stories in stone, and You erase them with mercy.
You said You would come again not on a colt, but on clouds. Not in sorrow, but in splendor.
“Every eye shall see Him” (Revelation 1:7). “The trumpet shall sound…” (1 Corinthians 15:52). And You will wipe every tear, not just with comfort but with finality (Revelation 21:4).
So now I live between Your comings. I breathe between Bethlehem and the Blessed Hope (Titus 2:13). I carry stories in my bones. I carry prayers in my hands.
I pray for the children those who don’t know the waiting, who rush past the wonder. I pray for the weary those who walk through darkness and wonder if light still lives. I pray for the doubters who forget that prophets once wept for joy at glimpses of what we now carry in full.
You came once to save. You will come again to reign. So let us not sleep. Let us not slumber. Let us not trade crowns for comfort.
Before the next branch breaks, before the next trumpet sounds, let us be found watching.
Let us wave our praise, not just in song, but in surrender.
Let us live like You came. Let us long like You’re coming. Let us love like You are here because You are.
And if my voice fades before that day, let this prayer rise in its place Come quickly, Lord Jesus. And let every heart be ready.
Amen.