Do you hear the trumpet call?
The call to gather,
the calling together,
the voice crying out in the desert, ‘make straight the way of the Lord’,
the summoning of the Father ‘build up, build up, prepare the road! Remove the obstacles out of the way of my people’
and the crying of the son for His bride to be one.
This is the yearning, the churning in my heart,
the thirst for the first on His heart.
To leave behind the divisions that were brought about by the visions of those whose security was found in religions.
Instead to inherit the inheritance,
the ground taken,
the dreams that were forsaken,
the momentum that brought us here,
the goals buried due to fear.
To reach over the walls that at present we lean on
and join back together the limbs of the bride who for too long
has lain disjointed
not dancing the dance of love to which she was appointed.
Let this be our vision,
to love without measure
and to always behold the treasure
in the soul of the person that to know appears to be far from a pleasure.
To live life not by whimsical principles, tainted until they’ve fainted due to the culture by which they’re repeatedly painted,
but to live by the principles of the Prince himself,
the kingdom of the King.
Let’s no longer dispute over doctrine or form,
but unify in healing the heart of our nation that has been torn
Let us gather at the banqueting table
and drink and eat until we’re unable
to do anything but love
unreservedly, unconditionally, authentically.
And let love be the banner under which we assemble,
and Jesus be the one that to look on we resemble.
This is my prayer,
for the church to wake up,
to shake up,
to choose to be hungry,
to choose to be angry
to choose to feel,
and not reel away from the orphans that steal,
the orphans who cheat, who lie, who truth be told, are scared to die.
That we would love them exactly as they are,
all covered in tar,
in a shiny car,
in a top paid job,
in a business suit,
or with a tough guy walk and stolen goods in the boot,
in the media, in the club, in the supermarket, in the pub.
In the rain when I’m worn out
because it’s not me that it’s about.
I’m sure of this that we hold the answer
to why the girl with the gift never became the dancer,
to why the boy born a prophet lives unaware
of the heavenly secrets concealed in the air,
to why the one with a leader’s voice
never realised they had the choice
to live the dream,
to choose the option,
and here we are with the door
through which comes the sound of the Father affirming
‘I love you and it’s not due to earning,
It’s simply because I do’.
Church, arise from your slumber,
fall in love again with the one you fell asleep beholding and since have only beheld in your dreams,
unable to touch.
there’s a stirring,
an excitement burning,
a renewed mind we’re learning,
a blank page we’re turning to write the next chapter of the history book.
It’s a revival chapter, look,
can you feel it coming?
an earthquake that shook
the very hearts of the angels that are assigned to this age
to welcome the King’s coming at every stage
through the story of time
that is now yours and mine.
Beth Turner ~ 25/08/2011