The Lord brought me back to this quote. I know it’s long…but it’s worth the read. I promise.
The vision? The
vision is Jesus– obsessively, dangerously, undeniably, Jesus. The
vision is an army of young people. You see bones? I see an 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 are mobile like the wind; they belong
to the nations. They need no passport. People write their address 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 children laugh and adults angry. It gave up the game
of minimum integrity 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
from their suicide leaps and their Satan games. This is an army that will lay
down its life for the cause. A million times a day it’s soldiers choose to lose
that they might one day win the great “well done� of faithful sons and
daughters. Such heroes are as radical on Monday morning as Sunday night. They
don’t need fame from names. Instead they grin quietly upwards to their the
crowds chanting again and again: “Come on!�
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. Winners? Martyrs? Who can stop them? Can failure succeed?
Can fear scare them or death kill them?
The generation prays like a dying man with groans beyond
talking, with warrior cries, and sulphuric tears. What 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
essential. The advertisers cannot mold them. Hollywood cannot hold them.
Peer-pressure is powerless to shake their resolve at late night parties before
morning light breaks.
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 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. The very Spirit of God is their oxygen. 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 and weirdoes! Summon
the losers and freaks. Here come the frightened and forgotten with fire in
their eyes. They walk tall and trees applaud, sky scrapers bow, mountains are
dwarfed by these children of another dimension. Their prayers summon
the Hounds of Heaven and invokes 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, and
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 “AMEN� from
countless angels, from heroes of the faith, from Christ Himself- the original
dreamer, the ultimate winner.
And that my friend is the vision. Guaranteed.
This is what I want my life to be. This is the vision I live for. Also, take a look at my teammate’s blog and read about a great story that happened last week! Click HERE.
