Be Still, The King Is Coming

In the moments when you’re drowning in despair, your breath stolen from you by fear and anxiety, it’s hard to lift your head, to shift your focus from outside your circumstance. In those moments, while you spend all your energy to keep your head above sadness and doubt, it seems all you can find in the dark are cinderblocks and no life jackets.

Whatever your situation, these moments come as a result of different types of fear and suffering. What we need in those times is a word of hope, a breath of encouragement, a whisper of a time to come, when the forecast will change forever and the crushing force of the sea will die down and be no more.

Over the past year, I came across an excerpt from author Randy Alcorn that gave me a tangible sense of hope unlike any other. It brought tears of hope and joy every time I revisited the pages.

Wherever you are, soak this in. Sit in Alcorn’s imagery. Close your eyes after reading it a few times and picture it in your mind, but more importantly, in your soul. Let the hope of the King’s Victory bring you peace, joy, excitement, and great gratitude this morning, this afternoon, this evening, and tomorrow.

“The battle cry of a hundred million warriors erupted from one end of the heavens to the other. There was a war on that narrow isthmus between heaven and hell, a planet called earth. The air was filled with the din of combat – the wails of oppressors being slain and the joyous celebrations of the oppressed, rejoicing that at long last their liberators had arrived.

Some of the warriors sang as they slew, swinging swords to hew the oppressors with one arm and, with the other, pulling victims up onto their horses.

The long arm of the King moved with swiftness and power. The hope of reward that kept the sufferers sane was vindicated at last. No child of heaven was touched by the sword this day, for the universe could not tolerate the shedding of one more drop of righteous blood.

Heaven released fury. Earth bled fear. It was the old world’s last night.

At the Lion’s nod, Michael raised his mighty sword and brought it down upon the great dragon. His muscles bulging at the strain, Michael picked up his evil twin and cast the writhing beast into a great pit. The mauler of men, the hunter of women, the predator of children, the persecutor of the righteous shrieked in terror. The vast army of heaven’s warriors cheered.

The battalions of Charis gazed upon the decimated face of the earth, the scorched soil of the old world. Nothing had survived the fires of this holocaust of things. Nothing but the King’s Word, his people, and the deeds of gold and silver and precious stones they had done for him during the long night since Eden’s twilight.

Soldiers dropped their weapons, crippled tossed their crutches and ran, the blind opened their eyes and saw. They pointed and shouted and danced, throwing their arms around each other, for each knew that any now left on earth were under the King’s blood and could be fully trusted. The King gathered children upon his lap. He wiped away their tears…

The sound of a great multitude, like the roar of rushing waters and loud peals of thunder, shouted, “Hallelujah! For our Lord God Almighty reigns. Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory! For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready.”…

All eyes turned to the King. The entire universe fell silent, anticipating his words.

“I will turn the wasteland into a garden,” the King announced. “I will bring here the home I have made for you, my bride. There will be a new world, a life-filled blue-green world, greater than all that has ever been. The Shadowlands are mine again, and I shall transform them. My kingdom has come. My will shall be done. Winter is over. Spring is here at last!”

A great roar rose from the vast crowd. The King raised his hands. Upon seeing those scars, the cheering crowds remembered the unthinkable cost of this great celebration.

Warriors slapped each other on the back. The delivered hugged their deliverers, enjoying a great reunion with those once parted from them.

The multitudes innumerable began to sing the song for which they had been made, a song that echoed off a trillion planets and reverberated in a quadrillion places in every nook and cranny of the creation’s expanse. Audience and orchestra and choir all blended into one great symphony, one grand cantata of rhapsodic melodies and sustaining harmonies. All were participants. Only one was an audience, the Audience of One. The smile of the King’s approval swept through the choir like fire across dry wheat fields.

When the song was complete, the Audience of One stood and raised his great arms, then clapped his scarred hands together in thunderous applause, shaking the ground and sky, jarring every corner of the cosmos. His applause went on and on, unstopping and unstoppable.

Every one of them realized something with undiminished clarity in that instant. They wondered why they had not seen it all along. What they knew in that moment, in every fiber of their beings, was that this Person and this Place were all they had ever longed for…and ever would.”

Jonathan C. Edwards (@NotThePuritan)

Jonathan (M.Div, Th.M) is the Director of Curriculum for Docent Research Group. He is the author of "Left: The Struggle to Make Sense of Life When a Parent Leaves," available now!

View Bio

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *