That noise made when you attempt to hold in your loud cry, deep, and stuck in the pit of your stomach, is not one that I care to hear too often, if ever. Yet, that noise followed by fat tears were ones I heard and felt that afternoon, only to hear them on the phone later on from a friend in a completely different, yet still so painful, situation and life. It’s as if this was what Paul talked of in Romans 8:26, those groanings too deep for words. I tried to figure out how to say it in a more beautiful and inspiring way, but the truth remains plain: life is hard, and we are all fellow sufferers.
From the post from last week on Micah 4, and the ones prior to those here and here, I have to reiterate: these promises, this hope, was something that seemed wildly impossible with the state of what they lived in and were seeing in that moment. Bruce Waltke and other scholars in the book of Micah go as far as to say that this could be something Micah is proclaiming to a tiny little remnant while Sennacherib of Assyria is laying siege against Jerusalem. Yet, these promises, this hope of the Messiah, one who would come and right all wrongs, who would be their ultimate ruler and King that brought true shalom to their lives, was something Micah called them to imagine. It’s out of this that we get a picture of salvation.
Come, Lord Jesus, come.
We cry out in hurt because we know within our bodies that this is not the way it was supposed to be. Lament is as much a cry of faith as these verses here, holding both in tension as we wail and rejoice in perpetual advent. We live knowing that the Messiah has come and is coming, a conundrum of sorts that defines who we are as Christ followers, the tension of the pilgrim who makes her home. This hope that we imagine and see not fully, with glimmers here and there of God’s Kingdom already at work, with brokenness around us still that we are begging to be fixed, this hope is very bold and worth staking our lives on.
Although the season of advent awaits for us yet this year, we live in it still, following after the footsteps of our ancestors here in Micah, this great cloud of witnesses. Let us hold fast, let us be faithful, let us have paradoxical imaginations that push us not only to ache for His second coming, but to put our hands to the plow. The weak will be made strong. He is our peace.
Come, Lord Jesus, come.