Coming: An Advent Poem
Advent is speaking. I’m waiting with hope. This waiting in ache. Still and silent, but listening.
In days past they long-awaited the Messiah; we long-await His return. At times it feels too heavy to bear.
My soul thirsts and pants for the living God to come and blanket me with His ten-times over fulness.
Like the noiseless, constant snow falling, fall on me. Cover me. Coat me with the everlasting love of God while I wait.
For true salvation, and broad in every way, comes only from You.
I wait. I pay attention. I seek. I hope. I pine for His peace. I wait more.
Bonhoeffer reminds me, “...the door is shut, and can only be opened from the outside.”
Advent, though painful, is necessary to refine and produce, like soon-sprouting seeds, the internal parts of me.
And one day, in the waiting, a light will dawn. And the door will open.