"See, I will send you the prophet Elijah before that great and dreadful day of the LORD comes. 6 He will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children, and the hearts of the children to their fathers; or else I will come and strike the land with a curse." (Malachi 4:5-6)
These words were followed by four hundred years of silence.
I imagine something theatrical.
A powerful voice declaring these words... the world spinning on end... a people, suddenly deaf to the voice of God.
Like in the movies... the film would play in fast forward, indicating passage of time. Generations would grow old and die. New ones conceived and brought up. The story of a sovereign Lord, of a present deity, would be told by the ones who had felt Him. Who had seen HIs work. But soon, those few would be gone. The story would be passed down--diligently at first, religiously, hopefully.
Surely the Lord would not stay silent long.
The truth would soon become not much more than a bedtime story.
But as always... there are a few children who believe the fairy tales.
Who believe passionately in the truth that is told to them just before they close their eyes.
These are the ones who continued to tell the story.
And after four hundred years... scores of generations and a multitude of decades...
After a winter that knew hope, but no evidence...
Stillness was shattered with words.
As the Lord, who had remained distant for so long, stooped not only to speak, but to live among us. The people who had turned His love and passion into a legend - he came to hold them, and sacrifice himself for them.
No one alive had ever heard His voice, or seen His undeniable glory.
And in a blink of an eye, His voice was heard by the poorest.
By the most unlikely.
And the movie is stopped abruptly. A panoramic view of a hillside... of sleeping sheep...
"Do not be afraid. For I bring to you tidings of great joy..."
The heart of a Father was turned to His children.
And the world would never be the same.
No comments:
Post a Comment