The Whisper Before Thunder

You ever wonder — what’s the point anyway?

I do, every time before I write a single word. I get bogged down checking engagement stats, measuring passion by numbers, wondering if what I pour out truly reaches anyone at all.

Does it match?

The effort, the hours, the pieces of myself I offer up — does it equal the impact I hope to make? Is it worth the investment?

Each time I ask, the answer returns unchanged:

Yes.

If even one soul is soothed or seen through these words, it’s enough.

Such is the cost of discipleship.

I will not complain either way. But solitude comes — thick, still, unending — when distance and time seem to blend into meditation. I’ve been looking toward tomorrow my entire life, and in truth, even now my heart faces it still.

When I say tomorrow, I mean the day He returns.

All that I am is tuned for that moment, like a harp string drawn taut and trembling for its final chord.

I do not ask for dates, times, or signs. No — my questions are simpler:

Have I spoken loudly enough to inspire awe for You, Father?

Have I loved mercy, named compassion family, and returned hatred with love?

Have I kept the faith?

I do not need to know when. When He appears, we will be with Him where He is. End of story.

To crave a timeline is only to seek an excuse — to conceal sin till the last moment.

And yet, lately, the parts of Him within me hum with an unseen vibration, like a note of Heaven strummed upon His harp. Time with God is not time as we know it; it bends beyond comprehension. Still, it is enough to know this:

It is sooner now than it was then.

Each moment creation marches one step closer.

It will come.

The end will not be as many imagine.

It will be a quiet and sleepy thing until He returns —

then the world will be shocked awake,

only to fall quickly back to sleep.

Because the best way to hide a whisper —

is to make them think it will come as thunder.