“Let it rest, and lie fallow.” Exodus 23:11
Parading through the tombs Osteon cries out, “dead man walking!” my stoic step trudges the graveyard path quietly echoing the dormant season of the hallowed dirt Fallow settles white dust blankets the plotted land of dry bones a cocooned season the earth must still Kairos quiets for the fruitfulness to renew the idle land sleeps for the dry bones to ready for the Word Fallow seeps deep into the bones unveiling the shadowed fruit that must be pruned, plowed under to nourish and renew my weary spirit A life’s foundation bulldozed, flattened exposes the rubble and becomes a public spectacle of broken skeletal remains The fallow season is upon and I too must sleep with the earth until his breath waters the dry bones awake that only He can renew I slumber in dreams that long for his breath to resurrect my spirit Kairos returns with the mist of his kiss that gently wakes the fallow His hand steadies as we survey the dormant mess of scattered dry bones that he created, living to house His home I see afresh, the burden of the dry bones so agape deep, I moan under the weight of his love for those he mourns awkwardly, I lift them high to see his love come down I mimic the ass that journeyed the bones from which I came the donkey was birthed a burden bearer I was born to see, but not to bear a gift of vision to point but not to carry home My heart could not hold their footing and buckled under the weight I had forgotten the husbandry yoke needed and collapsed at the dung gate scattering the dry bones He gently maneuvers through the graveyard of dry bones and brings us to the crossroad tree to behold, afresh the marker that gives life to the dry bones He visions me from the lens of his longing and asks, “can these bones live?” “only you know,” I whisper eyes wet, my vision darkly clouds of knowing the words to speak but not to bear He motions to see him bear the burden of the tree to know that he carries more weight than the ass his hands created to carry his own bones home He gives his living marrow in exchange for the dry bones that lie fallow "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani!" He breathes his last I inhale the fragrance of his exhale and drink in his perfumed sweat that moistens the fertility of the parched fruit seeds His naked skeleton resurrects the fallowed dry bones a new sound rattles as the army clumsily rises the fallowed dirt mingles with his spit He gently soothes the manna paste over my eyes to see His Kairos Word I must leave the burden bearing to Him to carry the dry bones home
Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones and say to them dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! This is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to Life. Ezekiel 37:4
So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet – a vast army. Ezekiel 37:10
“I loved you, at your darkest.” Romans 5:8
My Coffin Confessional what boxed secrets lay hidden buried deep within the grave I pause, reflecting on my own heart's coffin buried deep above the grave Zephyr's breath exhales His words echo through the tombs "nothing is covered that won't be revealed or hidden that will not be made known..." convicted, I genuflect in the dirt with empty, open hands I lay down my offering of plastic flowers at the weathered cross a cracked marker for a broken life Zephyr whispers his word that rips the veiled box in two kneeling at the foot of the memorial stone I whisper my confessional tears wash the stone's plastic flowers communion breaks consecrating my coffin confessional that heals the stone's crack His Mercy whispers: "Forgiven, now go in Peace."
“Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.” Proverbs 28:13
“Forgiven, now go in peace.” Luke 7:48-50
“All the lands are at rest and at peace, they break into singing. Isaiah 14:7”
The Christmas Truce of 1914 during the First World War is a profound legacy of Peace, as foe greeted friend with hymns of Silent Night, Holy Night.
Hosanna rang out from the sacred trumpet as the Star of Bethlehem hovered over no-man’s land beckoning comrades to follow it. Laying down their weapons, they arose from the trenches bearing gifts of food, trench art, and smokes. In holy silence, brothers marched towards the space that once divided them.
“Peace, be with you!” “And also with you!”
Halleluiah! Halleluiah! A hallowed night indeed as good will toward men echoed in the trenches. The Christmas Truce of 1914; a holy reminder of our Canadian Forces as we pray, “Thank you for our nations Peace.” Halleluiah!
Peace my friends, Merry Christmas! Jane.
Called to stand with those who serve.