From Dust

There is dust everywhere here, covering streets, homes, shoes, people. Sometimes it even comes in storms, making it's way into every corner and crevice.

One morning as I paused on the roof overlooking the neighborhood, minding my own business, my soul still, something happened.

All of a sudden I saw in the spirit the air pulse like an invisible shockwave as I heard Him say, "awaken." It shook my spirit with it's power; with a word He shakes the heavens and the earth.

Awaken, He breathed, as I looked out upon dead men walking, dust blowing through the streets. Awaken, He spoke, over the rooftops of Syrian refugees' homes. Awaken, the desire of hearts for the one true God. Awaken, to the glory of His suffering love. Awaken, long dormant destinies of His beautiful Arab Bride. Can these dry bones live again? Awaken.

Would you animate even the dust, God? Breath life into the atmosphere until Your promises have form, and even mourning is morphed into joy, despair re-formed into praise, ashes take on beauty.