What’s a promise you made to yourself that you’ve actually kept?
Title: The Vow That Held
This morning, unbearable heat soaked into my body before I even left the house. The air was thick, heavy with the breath of Tropical Cyclone Noul—yet I reported for duty at the hospital. Not out of habit, but out of a vow. A vow I made to the Lord, and to myself: every Saturday, I will be there.
Promises are easy to whisper, hard to live. Marriages fracture, partnerships dissolve, friendships fade—and we shrug, saying, that’s life. But a promise kept is a mirror of the soul. I do not make them lightly. When I do, I keep them—not because I am strong, but because I believe a person stands by their word, and a business by its name. Integrity is not a virtue; it is the very scaffolding of a life.
Among all my commitments, one towers above the rest: the day I received Jesus Christ as Lord. God is faithful; so must I be. For if I break faith with another, I dim the glory of the One who never breaks faith with me.
Today, the prompt asked for a promise kept. This is mine—fresh from this morning’s ward. The patient I counselled left with lighter eyes. My fatigue dissolved in that air-conditioned room, cooled not by machinery but by grace. Beside me, teammates who had just recovered from illness showed up too—each keeping their own quiet covenant. And I remembered: Those who sow mercy reap mercy. His abundance never runs dry.
Scripture says God never breaks His covenant. Man? We falter. But I have seen grace bridge that gap. To those still seeking—may this poem find you in the light of that same grace.
—
✨ The Covenant ✨
The world knows You not in days of gold,
In days of woe, even Your own complain.
The heart of man—so vile, so blind—
Yet in my eyes, Your love remains.
The bounds You draw, the lines You trace,
No mortal mind can see their space.
The hour You seal, the appointed day—
What soul on earth can ever say?
The vast expanse by You was made,
The covenant kept—by You displayed.
A thousand years, a thousand storms—
How long, O Lord, till grace transforms?
—
en yan hua fang 