The Valley of Dry Bones

[See Ezekiel 37:1-14]

We sometimes come
to these points in our lives,
when it feels that all of hope is gone
and even our bones seem dry.

We look back upon the valleys of our past,
see the skeletons of our dreams
cast upon the stones that have bruised our feet,
making even our hearts seem lame.

Sometimes with gasping breath,
we weep in sorrow for the way so many tomorrows
have ended in the twisted shadows
of disappointment and even despair.

Too often, perhaps,
we chose the way of the warrior,
determined to slice our way through life
and through anything—or anyone—that stood in our way.

We forgot, perhaps, or never knew
the tougher sinews of patience,
the power of waiting upon the Lord,
the strength that comes from being still.

Even when we walk among tombs
where it seems there is scarcely room for hope,
when our bones seem as dry as petrified flint,
when we remember whom we have believed we will see:

There is nothing too strong for the arm of God,
who has made us able to stand in places we feared to trod,
who has made the lame to dance
and placed his praises on the lips of the mute.

Then, when our eyes have been opened by faith,
when our minds have conceived the seed of hope,
and our hearts set on fire by God’s own sweet love,
then we, too, will know the power and the promise

that can set flesh upon the dried skeleton,
breathe life into dust,
and muster an army of thousands upon thousands
from bleached bones littering a desert valley.

H. Arnett

About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Ark City, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-nine years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-eight grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.
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