Glimpses

Glimpses. There are glimpses, these days, of that much-longed-for Awakening. There is cold blood in my veins still surviving in circulation, probably from these several long, fruitless winters. But the old blood, frozen and slow, seems to be now overtaken with a New Wine that is as old as You. It’s warming UP, as summer ends and winter will be here soon…let’s hope and pray that the spiritual seasons reverse and not follow suit.

Oh Blood, warm and full of life, pump and pump and pump. Revive this
belabored heart, this forgotten filling station, kickstart it…light a match…I don’t care…blow the place up! Birth a fuel fire with endless pipelines full of napalm-inducing Holy Spirit. Pump and pump and PUMP. Pressure. Back pressure. Force the slag down the line. Push. Turn it up! TURN IT UP! Gushing…I want it gushing out of this chest! Heart of fire. Burn, burn, burn…come on, BURN BURN, BURN!!!

Take another look…as the heat causes blurry visuals.

Glimpses of a man on fire. Flames ripping through his chest. A tattered rib cage. Flayed skin, cauterized to the crisp. This guy is in trouble. Yet, it seems to be the fire that flows through his charred carcass that is keeping him alive. Flames of life. Keep him alive. This process, anywhere else on earth, under any other circumstances, to anyone else under less Spirit-intoxication, would already be dead. But he is not. He is MORE alive.

This man has set himself on fire…out in the middle of nowhere…so people could come from miles around to see how in the world he burns. What an oddity, a modern-molten monstrosity. Golden pipes of oil. Eyes like lamps. His hair burnt so bad it is made thin and white like ash. And the night’s stars are besetting his background. Odder still…it seems the lava-like flow of Revival flame that has melted most of this man’s face clean off, now seems to have become a shinier-than-anything-I’ve-ever-seen sword. A sword? That can’t be right….

Another glimpse. This scene has changed. This man is not the same anymore. This isn’t even the same guy. He must have burnt away in the awe of the exchange. HE. IS. NO. LONGER. THERE.

Now, as I look again. There is a striking white steed. A tattooed thigh. This is hard to take in. This is a King. This is a Lord.

I know Who this is now….

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About Joshua M. Brindle

Child. Father. Husband. Herald. Writer. Messenger. Psalmist. Poet-Prophet. Biker. Beard-wearer. Teacher. Pastor? Follower. Disciple. Disciple-er. Bearer of the Torche. Keeper of the Flame. Waver of the Banner. Running the race. Fighting the fight. Revolutionary...hopefully.
This entry was posted in Biblical Manhood, Flame, I AM RESISTANCE!, Poet-Prophet, Revival, Tribe of Judah General and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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