I'm not a huge fan of mass sharing or reposting something that someone else wrote but I read this a while ago and actually posted it in a note on my facebook a few years back. I found the original the other day while digging through some old stuff and thought it was appropriate to share with you all. Please do me a favor and read this. It's inspiring.
This is taken from a book called "Red Moon Rising" by Pete Greig & Dave Roberts. I think it's pretty amazing. Let me know what you think.
So this guy comes up to me and says, "what's the vision? What's the big idea?" I open my mouth and words come out like this...
The vision is Jesus - obsessively, dangerously, undeniably Jesus.
The vision is an army of young people. You see bones? I see and army.
And they are FREE from materialism. They laugh at 9 - 5 little prisons.
They could eat caviar on Monday and crusts on Tuesday.
They wouldn't even notice.
They know the meaning of the Matrix, the way the west was won.
They are mobile like the wind, they belong to the nations.
They need no passport.
People write their addresses in pencil and wonder at their strange existence.
They are free yet they are slaves of the hurting and dirty and dying.
What is the vision?
The vision is holiness that hurts the eyes.
It makes chilldren laugh and adults angry.
It gave up the game of minimum intergrity long ago to reach for the stars.
It scorns the good and strains for the best.
It is dangerously pure.
Light flickers from every secret motive, every private conversation.
It loves people away from their suicide leaps, their Satan games.
This is an armay that will lay done it's life for the cause.
A million times a day it's soldiers choose to lose that they might one day win.
That great well done of faithful sons and daughters.
Such heros are as radical on Monday morning as Sunday night.
They don't need fame from names.
Instead they grin quietly upwards and hear the crowds chanting again and again
And this is the sound of the underground.
The whisper of history in the making
Revoulutionaries dreaming once again.
Mystery is scheming in whispers
Conspiracy is breathing...
This is the sound of the underground
And the army is disciplined.
Young people who beat their bodies into submission.
Every soldier would take a bullet for his comrade at arms.
The tattoo on their back boasts "for me to live is Christ and to die is gain."
Sacrifice fuels the fire of victory in their upward eyes.
Who can stop them?
Can hormones hold them back?
Can failure succeed?
Can fear scare them or death kill them?
And the generation prays like a dying man.
With groans beyond talking, with warrior cries, sulphuric tears
And with great barrow loads of laughter!
Whatever it takes they will give.
Breaking the rules.
Shaking mediocrity from its cozy little hide.
Laying down their rights and their precious little wrongs.
Laughing at labels, fasting essentials.
The advertisers cannont mold them.
Hollywood cannot hold them.
Peer-pressure is powerless to shake their resolve at late night parties.
They are incredibly cool, dangerously attractive inside.
On the outside? They hardly care.
They wear clothes like costumes to communicate and celebrate but never to hide.
Would they surrender their image or their popularity?
They would lay down their very lives, swap seats with the man on death row,
Guilty as hell.
A throne for an electric chair.
With blood and sweat and many tears, with sleepless nights and fruitless days,
They pray as if it all depends on God and live as if it all depends on them.
Their DNA chooses Jesus. (He breathes out and they breathe in)
Their subconscious sings.
They had a blood transfusion with Jesus.
Their words make demons scream in shopping centers.
Don't you hear them coming?
Herald the weirdos!
Summon the losers and the freaks.
Here come the frightened and forgotten with fire in their eyes.
They walk tall and trees applaud, skyscrapers bow,
mountains are dwarfed by these children of another dimension.
Their prayers summon the hounds of heaven and invoke the ancient dream of Eden.
And this vision will be.
It will come to pass; it will come easily; it will come soon.
How do I know?
Because this is the longing of creation itself, the groaning of the Spirit,
The very dream of God.
My tomorrow is his today.
My distant hope is his 3D.
And my feeble, whispered, faithless prayer invokes a thunderous, resounding,
Bone shaking great "Amens!" from countless angels, from heros of faith,
From Christ himself.
And He is the original dreamer, the ultimate winner.
I don't know about you but this makes chills run down my back and places a fire in my soul.
I feel like we need an awakening. Makes me think of this song by Leeland. In case you haven't noticed I'm kind of a fan. I'm sure everyone has an artist where you feel the words just connect with what you are feeling and thinking. Leeland does that for me. I love this video too. Makes me want to crawl through the screen and join them.
Leave me comments!!