The Prophets. (Ezekiel and Isaiah)

God brought me a vision with dry bones on the ground;

This valley was barren and as I looked around

The dusty bones began to quiver and shake with anticipation;

A rattling sound, representative of their destination.

An army under One King, armed and ready for war,

A battle in the last says which will not be short of gore.

So I prophesy of these bones and joints and tendons form;

I speak your power and their flesh becomes warm.


But God, only Your breath can make them truly alive.

So Holy Breath of God I prophesy:  In these corpses, you will abide.

Break open old greaves and raise up Your elite,

Armed with the Word, and Gospel-readiness on their feet.

But even among these I sense the enemy sowing fear.

Gift us with wisdom, and discernment to hear

The subtle difference of Your Truth and his deception

So that we don’t fall victim to the cunning art of inception.


High King of Heaven, I pray over this coming day

That You would purify us, so we can walk strong in Your way.

And as we join with the angels singing “Holy, holy, holy!”

God will release the floodgates of blessing and mercy.

“Whom shall I send to save this dying generation?

Who will go for us to bring forth restoration?”

And I cry:  “Here am I! Send me!”

I’m battle-armed and ready, and dying to see

My people to come to know you;

It’s my heart’s cry and all I can do

Is seek Your face now and forevermore.

As I prepare for battle, a violent spiritual war.


And when the bottom drops out, I want you to be all need;

Because you’ll be all I have, I’ve no room for greed.

When my pen runs dry and I’m out of words to sing,

When I’m all washed up, all I’ve left to bring;

It’s more than a song to sing with my voice,

It’s my soul, my living sacrifice, my choice.

To give up control on my life, it’s yours to use,

However you will, and however you choose.


Composed on April 29, 2011.



What would it take for things to be quiet;

For the world to stand still, if only for a moment?

To breathe a cool mountain breeze and look off from the peak.

I want to take in the view of the world from that peak

And realize again, how small I really am.

I want to be alone on that peak,

Just me and my Creator.

I just want a deep breath of fresh, crisp air

And to sit in awe of the majesty of earth;

The footstool of the Heavens.

I want all of my questions not to matter anymore.

To be so enraptured by the Presence of the Most Holy God

That all I can do is be silent and forget my thoughts.

I can’t remember the last time I had a quiet mind.

I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have a worry

Because my mind is so full of worrisome questions about what will happen next,

About where to go from here?

I feel as though I have aged so much these past years.

My soul is so incredibly old.

But my understanding is infantile.

So I live in a constant state of paradox

Just hoping, just praying, just waiting to hear that still, small voice to whisper.

To tell me that everything will be all right.

That although a storm is raging and voices are screaming

And I can’t make out the sound in the noise,

That there is a plan, there is a way.

There is a peace I’ve yet to reveal.

Oh, what would it take for things to be quiet?