this is me.

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I wanted to do something different than my normal blog. I wrote this last summer and I really haven't shared it with anyone. I guess it is something that God has been doing inside of me for a while now. It seems like when I am close to God he gives me words like this; when I'm not, I have nothing to say.

I am a speechless prophet, seeking the one who gives me words.

This is our cry. Voices from this generation sing out

Spark a fire to engulf our souls

Put a prophetic vision on our tongues

Our faith is too small, our lives are to quite

Bring us to a new place

Past our fathers hollow tradition and our mother--s easy comfort

May our eyes see what you see

May our ears hear the crying of your hurting children

May our feet bring the gospel to the wandering

Quite the voices of the false prophets

Kill our bitterness and materialism

Bring us to a new place oh God

Old men dream, dreams

Young men see visions

What does all this mean?

Help us to understand.

Let our voices cry out to a lost and dying generation

Wake up oh sleeper and rise from the dead

May your breath give life to our dry bones of fading passion

Warriors, fight like you once did

Prayers once again intercede

Revolutionaries rest no more

Healers have lost their faith

Apostles remain still,

the prophets remain quiet

Let the dancers dance once more,

Let the lips of the singers sing a new song

Let our hands heal diseases, and our voices raise the dead

This is our cry -- Voices from this generation sing out

Our words will not be quieted

Our spirits will not be tamed

Rise up and take a stand

Let us trample on injustice

And dance in His presence

Fire fall

Wind blow

Spirit come

--- Patrick Fore, July 2006