“A virgin shall conceive.” Isaiah told God’s promise hundreds
of years before the baby arrived. To a people living in darkness, Isaiah
prophesied a great light. Hope was kept alive through the years by other
prophets but many everyday Israelites must have doubted on their deathbeds that
Messiah would ever come. And yet, as a culture, they waited. And waited. And waited.
And waited. They waited for God to do what he said he would do.
And one raucous, holy night when Bethlehem
was so full of visitors the innkeepers were renting the animal’s quarters, hope
was vindicated. The virgin bore the promise. The bloody, pink body burst forth
from Mary’s body, adding the smells of childbirth to the smells of the cattle. Hope
made flesh.
I’m waiting, too, aren’t’ you? Waiting not just for that
grown-up baby’s return, but also for God to make good on the smaller promises. Some
of us are waiting for a healing. Others wait for a job. Many wait for redemption
of old pain.
In our waiting, let’s take hope from Israel’s waiting.
The second coming is as sure as the first. The smaller promises will
also be delivered unto us—healing, provision, redemption. With hope, let us
wait.
Maranatha, Come Lord Jesus.