Down in the valley stood the prophet of the Lord
Where a pile of old bones would receive God’s Word.
“But, Lord,” cried Ezekiel, “these bones are all dry.”
God said, “Preach, and an army will rise.”
Ezekiel began to preach just as he was told
When he heard a loud shake from that pile of bones.
Ignoring his impulse to run like the wind,
He watched those bones connect end to end.
God said to Ezekiel (his mouth open wide),
“My people are like these bones, sunbaked and dried.”
Some are like cheekbones, their presence always known,
Dressed and painted like stars in a show.
Some are like jawbones; oh, they rattle on and on.
Gossiping, complaining – their job never done.
Well, knuckle bones are firm – stubborn to be exact.
Their closed minds can’t be bothered with facts.
Tailbones cheer the chaos from their pews (a good fit).
On promises won’t stand; on premises they’ll sit.
Then God said, “There are those who follow my plan.”
Needs are met by the work of the hand.
Obedience is the theme of each foot on the move.
Following God’s lead, their faithfulness they prove.
The backbone gives support to the hand and foot,
Adding strength to their work – Oh, that’s good!
Of all, the strongest bone is under pressure bent,
For kneeling knees intercede in hours of prayer spent.
Are you the hand or the foot, back or the knee?
God’s raising His army. Which bone will you be?