White washed walls and the tick of a clock. Tiny little heartbeats on monitors. The sun rising as a new day awaits. The first day on earth for some, while others depart from here. My eyes heavy as I wait for 7am. The hum of a hospital ringing in my ears.
The long awaited promise is nothing like what I imagined. It’s more difficult than the season I groaned to leave. The promise is beautiful, yet she has a side to her no one speaks of. She wraps you up in excitement and anticipation, as she drains the life from your very bones. She’s everything you’ve prayed for but then none of it at all, everything clashes into one. Batting her eyes full of wonder while whispering “if this is what you’ve waited for, then what a Father you have.” How can a gift become a burden. How can a heart chasing after the one thing she’s sure of get so beaten and bruised along the way. “Is this what you really wanted?” She whispers, as my body pours into my faded blue scrubs and blood stained tennis shoes. “Is this really what you prayed for?” She questions, as I sit alone in what is deemed my calling. “My my, aren’t you so disappointed in what He has for you?” she cackles, as tears burn my emerald eyes. I stare at her. I see her devilish grin, I hear her soothing voice, I see the way she carries herself. She tries to lure my thoughts into her bedroom of lies. The promiscuity of the promise.
I open my eyes and her cunning words are the first sounds I hear. The same tactics, the same lies, I get lost in a sea of what seems true. Taunting me with the ideas of “is He really that good if you feel like this? Is this really what your life looks like after all you’ve done for Him? Aren’t you devastated? What a fool you are to devote your life to a God who’s promises are nothing that you have asked for.” I am crushed by the promise. I am chained to what could’ve been. I am caught in her web of lies gasping for truth. I am overwhelmed with the weight of it all.
As soon as she rushed in, so did You. Your voice faint, yet a sound my entire being longs to hear. “My love. The promiscuity of the promise is nothing but mere smoke. See, it’s not the promise who’s speaking but the one who’s promise is eternal separation from Me. The one who’s only promise left is dark and pungent. Why, silly child of mine, these promises aren’t meant for your comfort, they aren’t meant for your feelings to be coddled. These promises are Mine. You are Mine. This is all for My name to be exalted, for My kingdom come. I have given you these to not only lift me up and bow your head down, but to be exalted now in the heavens. See, My promises I always keep but sweet love, promises are much deeper than a penny thrown into a well. For I am the well, for I am the penny, for I am all things below, beneath, and between. Ah dear the hardest part, killing your flesh along with the ruler of feelings. He will tell you I do not keep My promises because he still hopes I won’t. Every time he looks at you, he see Me, and is reminded of the promise I have given him. He knows the day will come when it’s time for his promise to be fulfilled. It infuriates him. He tries to rope you in with his smooth talk and empty promises, to try and take what matters most to Me. To convince Me that I am not really who I say I am. What a fool to speak to Me in such a way. He often forgets who created him, who loved him, who chose to defile who. Sweet one, trust that My ways are higher, that My heart is for you. Know that things aren’t always as they seem because your eyes see the promiscuity draped over what is actually provision.”
I held onto my promises with such a death grip my knuckles turned white. He gently placed His hands upon my bloodied fingers and said “release your promise and fall into Mine.” Help me see it’s not about what I envisioned Your provision to look like through mortal eyes, but instead what You see on the thrown in all Your glory. Help me to understand that it’s not about me. Help me to see that the flesh and the enemy are afraid of the inevitable, death, which has already been defeated. A promise that I am rejoicing in, they fight every second of everyday against. See, through fallen eyes promises are promiscuous, full of suffering and eternal damnation, while promises through the Creator’s eyes are full of provision and eternal life.
With a gasp of cold air that stings my lungs and tears streaming down my rosy cheeks, I stumble out of the silver elevator towards my car after a long night of living in the promise. He met me there. Met me in the middle of the provision that is so heavy and reminded me that He indeed proves His faithfulness even when it does not look anything like I had hoped for, but it is everything He created me for.
