Tears falling down my cheeks,
Ears wide open as I looked ahead,
Listening to the testimonies of the new believers,
The teardrops alternated,
Some were of joy and others of sorrow,
Out of the ten standing up,
I only knew three,
But I cried harder for the ones who I didn’t know,
I sat in awe as I heard how far God had brought them,
They were a testament to the fact that dry bones live.
A young lady,
In her early twenties with a face that looked like it had experienced fifty years of pain,
In such a short period of time she had been through more than many will ever see,
She was only nine when her mothers boyfriend abused the fact that she was only nine,
Waiting for her mother to leave before he entered her room,
Telling her that no one would believe her because he was the only one who would never leave her,
In an empty house where no one could hear her scream,
She took his word as the gospel,
He took her innocence at nine years old,
He abused her trust,
He abused her mind,
He abused her.
She was 19 when she finally told someone,
By that time she had had one too many broken bones and hearts and scars to prove it,
Trapped in a cycle of searching for something to fill her or to feel her.
She was 21 when she encountered Christ,
She saw Him in a boy she used to know,
The young boy she used to know was now a man she could barely recognise,
His face looked the same but his mind had changed,
He had just been released from prison after serving time for GBH and theft,
But if you saw the way he acted you would swear that he was innocent,
As he stood on the pulpit,
He looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly.
She couldn’t believe how much he had changed and she kept on asking questions,
He accepted Christ at one of the services held in the prison by a local churches prison ministry,
She didn’t know what it was but she wanted some of what he had,so after months of talking…
She slowly began to accept his word as the Gospel.
As I sat down at the baptismal service and heard all of these testimonies,
The tears were falling down my cheeks because I could truly see that dry bones live!
In a world of shattered hearts, weary souls and broken bones,
It is so hard to believe the truth,
So we try and heal ourselves with time,
Fragile clay jars in a broken world are bound to get broken at some point,
But as I walk through the valley I cling on to the truth because I know for a fact that dry bones live!