Dry Bones, Awaken!

Utah High Desert

My dry bones lay on the battle floor.

Yielded.

Inside of me.

After the fire. The war.

That burned away the flesh.

Laid on God’s altar.

The test.

Tests.

Submission requires so much rest.

To die. To surrender.

Peace, at best.

White-flagged, bones, stripped of my flesh,

finally yielded to the war inside.

And, out.

Picked, finely clean by the buzzards,

God allowed.

Removing what’s not of Him.

You know, pride. Ego. The hardness inside.

All that it entails.

Pecking through the shell that blocks what God speaks,

from Him, through others, through the winds,

please, never cease.

The winds wax, they wane,

blowing through, then pulls away,

the debris that no longer has a place to cling.

Til nothing remains for my flesh to sing.

The rains follow.

Drops, showers, quench the pain.

My tears attest.

Yes, the rain, the storms, cleansing what tries to remain.

Cross in the clouds

The Son reigns, He shines above it all,

as I rest, squirming at best,

beneath the Son. The beaming Light.

Whitening the stains,

the scars from too much flight,

from His path.

Barren bones lay dead,

awakening through His grace.

The voice calls beyond the dessert.

Surrounding my soul.

“Come, breath, from the four winds and breathe into these dry bones,

that they may live.”

Oil, sweet oil, flows from the mantle above,

as the vase breaks–

through.

The anointing.

The fragrance of God, leaving nothing to expose.

It’s revealed.

Polishing the bones with the oil of grace.

Awaken me back, more broken, yet more whole,

for your Holy Spirit to live.

To thrive.

Not merely survive.

My bones start to rattle against the ground where I lay,

from the battle around, He chose me to raise.

Up from once ashes, heaped here, around

The breath of God calls to me,

the dry bones

–dead upon the ground,

Waiting for His hand to fasten these bones as He desires.

Waiting, waiting, for the pieces to reveal.

In the waiting, the real work is sealed.

A Voice calling beyond the wilderness,

once crowding out my soul,

“Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our Lord.”

These bones rise up, fastened back for Life.

A fresh wind is moving,

lifting me up,

stronger for the war.

All for Life!

Abundant Life!

Found surrendered to the Lord!

Warrior Princes Rising Up For Battle

[Ezekiel 37, Isaiah 40]