Show Don't Tell: Psalm 123

In a small village nestled between rolling hills, there lived a humble servant named Miriam. Each morning, as the sun cast a golden hue over the landscape, she would lift her gaze toward the grand estate of her master, a wealthy merchant named Benazir. Miriam understood the unspoken bond they shared; her life depended on the slightest gesture from him. As she stood in the fields, hands calloused from toil, her eyes would search for the familiar flick of his wrist or the rise and fall of his brow.

On one particularly tense day, the air was thick with the murmurs of discontent; the townsfolk were restless, mocking those who served the privileged. With her heart pounding like a war drum, Miriam found herself standing before the lavish gates of the estate, her gaze unwavering. “I lift up my eyes to you, to you who sit enthroned in heaven,” she whispered, echoing the sentiment of Psalm 123.

Just as she looked to Benazir for mercy and direction, so too did she look to the Lord. Her spirit felt small amid the contempt of the arrogant, the laughter of the comfortable ringing in her ears. “Have mercy on us, O Lord, have mercy on us,” she cried softly, her voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a fierce longing.

In that moment, Miriam’s eyes remained fixed not just on the earthly master, but on the heavenly one, knowing that even amid ridicule and scorn, her hope lay anchored in the mercy of God. With each passing second, she learned that waiting on the Lord was not a passive act but a profound declaration of trust in the face of adversity. The sun dipped lower, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, but her heart was alight with anticipation—she was waiting for the signal that would change everything.