This Is Why He Waits

The sun. Like a bridegroom coming forth from his pavilion, he comes out of his tent in the early morning. Adorned for his bride, he comes.

The birds begin their days work.

Dew glistens the ground. Mist came up from the earth and watered the ground.

Man. Formed from the dust of the ground.

I whisper. Words should not disturb the sacredness of this morning altar.

"Thank you for another day."

"Where is your God?", they say.

Seconds to minutes. Minutes to hours. Hours to days. Days to months. Months to years. Still, He does not come.

He waits. He tarries. For this.

"The Lord is not slow in keeping His promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance."

(2 Peter 3: 9)

Somewhere in a jungle of forest or concrete. Somewhere in a mansion or a thatch roof shack.

Somewhere on a Walled Street. Somewhere in a food line.

Somewhere next door. Somewhere on the other side of the world.

Somewhere.

Today.

Someone will confess with their mouth. Someone will believe in their heart.

He waits. He tarries. For this.

For this one.

From afar off He sees. The dead come to life. The lost found.

Today may be the day.

For the one you have been praying for. 

The eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth. 

The ninety-nine are left.

The angels rejoice.


The Son. Like a Bridegroom coming forth from His pavilion, He comes out of His tent in the early morning.

Adorned for His bride, He comes.

He looks down from the banister of Heaven.

He waits. He tarries. For this.

He wouldn't have missed this one for the world.

.