I Am the Promised One

A retelling for children, based on The Dawn-Breakers by Nabíl-i-A'ẓam (Chapter XVIII, the Examination of the Báb at Tabríz).

In the summer of 1848, soldiers came to a lonely mountain prison called Chihríq, where the Báb had been kept far from everyone who loved Him. They were taking Him on a long journey down to a great city called Tabríz. There, the most important and most powerful religious judges in the whole land were waiting to question Him. Even the young Crown Prince, Náṣiri'd-Dín Mírzá, would be there to watch.

It was the kind of day that could make anyone afraid. But the Báb was not afraid.

Something happened on the road that showed His calm. As the group rode toward a town called Urúmíyyih, the Báb's horse suddenly seemed ready to panic and bolt. His companions were alarmed. But the Báb spoke to them in a steady voice, telling them not to fear, to do as they had been told, and to trust everything to the care of God. And just like that, the horse settled. They arrived safely, the Báb as peaceful as ever.

At last the day of the examination came. Imagine the room: rows of stern, learned men in fine robes, the Crown Prince seated to watch, and one young Prisoner standing before them all. Among the judges was a hard and powerful scholar named Mullá Muḥammad-i-Mamaqání. They thought they would frighten this young Prisoner into taking back everything He had said.

They began with the biggest question of all. For a thousand years, people had been waiting and praying for a Promised One to come — someone God had promised would appear. The judges leaned forward and asked: Was He really claiming to be that Promised One?

A weaker person might have whispered, or made excuses, or tried to slip away from the question. The Báb did the opposite. In front of every powerful person in that room, He answered without a single tremble:

I am, I am, I am, the promised One! I am the One whose name you have for a thousand years invoked.

The room must have gone silent. He had not hidden. He had not softened it. He had said it three times, clear and strong.

The judges did not know what to do. So they tried a smaller trick. They pointed out that some of the verses He had written did not follow all the little rules of grammar perfectly — as if a tiny mistake in grammar could prove anything at all. The Báb's answer went straight past their trap:

The Word of God can never be subject to the limitations of His creatures.

In other words: grammar is a set of rules that people made up, but the Word of God is far greater than any rule that people invent. The judges had no good reply to that, either.

They could not win against Him with words. So, sadly, they did a cruel thing instead. They ordered that the Báb be beaten on His bare feet with rods. It hurt Him terribly. Yet not even that could make Him change one word of what He had bravely declared.

Afterward, He was sent back to His mountain prison at Chihríq. Even there, He kept right on speaking the truth, writing a long letter to one of the most powerful ministers in the country, telling him plainly what was right and what was wrong.

The Báb once shared words that ask each of us a hard and honest question:

Think men that when they say, 'We believe,' they shall be let alone and not be put to the proof?

It is easy to say we believe in something when everything is comfortable. The Báb showed us what it looks like to mean it — to stand tall and tell the truth even when the most powerful people in the world are frowning at you, even when being brave costs you dearly. That is real courage: not the kind that feels safe, but the kind that holds steady when everything around you says, "Be quiet, give up, give in." The Báb never gave in.

This is a retelling for children. For the fuller account, see "I Am, I Am, I Am: The Báb's Examination at Tabríz".

Nabíl-i-A'ẓam. (1932). *The Dawn-Breakers: Nabíl's Narrative of the Early Days of the Bahá'í Revelation*. Bahá'í Publishing Trust. https://www.bahai.org/library/other-literature/historical/dawn-breakers/